Chapter 26 #2
Pressing my lips to his, he lets me in. Tilting his head, he deepens the kiss and I get a small tendril of joy in my gut.
His tongue sliding between my lips, fighting my mine.
My hands snake up to his hair and I grip him tight against me.
Pressing my body completely against his, I lean further down, trying to find the lever to let the seat down.
But I can’t find it. Too many fucking buttons. I need him, and I need him now.
He pushes my hand away, and his chair leans back as far as it'll go which is pretty low, damn near completely horizontal, is this a new feature in expensive cars? I straddle his hips more comfortably as my hands press against his clothed chest. His clothed chest. Hmm.
“Let’s take this off,” I murmur, reaching for his shirt. His chest is so fucking wide, muscled. I love watching him. His light gold skin is so damn lickable. So mine.
Brown broken eyes stare at me and for once a poison isn’t going to fix this issue.
I can’t lose him.
“Elliot, I need you.”
“You don’t–” I cut his words off with a kiss.
Refusing to hear him say the words I dread out loud.
I reach for something just as effective as poison, a pocket knife in my waist band.
Flicking it open, I press the blade against the perfect skin of his shoulder.
Breaking my kiss I grind my hips against his, the friction my body craves sending a shiver through my body.
My hand shakes and a thin line of blood pools around my blade.
“I don’t want to hear that again,” I mutter. Elliot’s eyes stay trained on me. His chest heaves under me as his mind runs wild behind those pretty eyes. He’s thinking. He’s resisting. Too much. Even after I cut him. This isn’t enough.
I move the blade to his neck, “Promise me.”
“I can’t.”
Cut. A tiny little line that’ll heal by tonight.
It probably barely hurts. I can’t even… I can’t hurt this man.
I can’t properly cut him so my marks will scar.
So many people have hurt this man. His birth parents, foster parents, Mrs. Jay.
I can’t add myself to this list. But this hurt in my heart, gosh, this hurt at him pushing me away. Damn it spreads through my body.
“Promise me,” I say again. Desperation slicing through my need to fuck him.
“I can’t lie to you.”
Cut. This time I curve the line. A “D” at the base of his neck above his collarbone. Dribbles of blood on his chest. But it isn’t enough. Nothing will be enough until I know he won’t leave me. He’s stopped glaring at me, his face changing into something worse than a glare.
Something that makes the pit in my stomach drop and my hands shake.
Determination.
His brows come a hair closer to each other as his eyes harden and his lips become taught. Purpose screaming from his pores.
“I need one last taste,” he says. His hands move from my hips to my ribs.
My upper body is thrown forward, toward the back seat.
My dagger cuts his expensive leather seats as I find my balance.
I get a view of the Haven parking lot from his back window as his hands dig into my exposed skin from my dangling loose top.
My hands hold me up from his back seat and my lower half is still in the front seat, maybe this is why they made those seats go so damn low. He positions me right over his lips. I can feel his breath hit the front of my sweatpants and my stomach tightens in anticipation.
“My pants,” I breathe, cursing that I put on sweatpants after my shower instead of a dress. He’s gonna ruin them.
“Not a problem.” He kisses my cunt over my pants.
Letting his tongue linger on the front of my pants so he knows I can feel him.
I hear a sharp click of metal against metal.
Oh, he has a pocket knife too. It's milliseconds after my realization that a clean tear sounds in the car and a harsh breeze of air against me.
I shiver, sensitive as ever, as he continues ripping the seam of my pants.
“Elliot,” I gasp as his tongue attacks my pussy.
He licks me with long, savory strokes, taking his time as he riles me up. My arms start to burn from holding myself up and it’s only been minutes, and it turns me on more. The frustration in my muscles from this and training shooting waves of pleasure into my core.
He doesn’t answer me, solely focused on his task of devouring me at my most intimate spot, as it is all self-serving for him.
Yanking my hips forward to meet his mouth better, my knees rip against the leather of his headrest as I fall completely on him.
My knees practically dangle on the sides of his chair as I suffocate him via my pussy.
He doesn’t even choke as I find my footing, adjusting my knee right by his head.
His hands grip my hips and grind me against his face.
Shaking, the pressure in my core builds.
My body wants to curl in on itself but I can’t unless I want to face palm leather.
The frustration at keeping this position turns me like fucking loon.
I drop the dagger, it falling to the floor, my fingers gripping the seat, my breath labored as he eats me fucking whole.
“My favorite fucking meal.” His words brush against me, and I don’t think I can take much more. Fuck. My lack of core strength doesn’t even allow me to run my fingers through his hair, and it irks the hell out of me. “You taste like home, a home I don’t want to leave.”
“Then don’t,” I murmur and grind myself against his face, an amazing fucking brust of pleasure course through my core.
His lips caress my skin as one of his hands moves away from my hips. I lift a bit, hoping he’ll breathe easier, but the thought quickly disappears as he enters a finger into me.
Warmth crawls over my skin as Elliot relentlessly devours me like a starved man. And his starvation for me would be all his fucking fault.
He laps at me while his fingers curl. My core spasms. I’m so close I can taste my orgasm in my throat.
“Elliot,” I moan as he’s wilder. More intense. He digs his nose in my clit just right as his mouth works my lips and his tongue– Fuck.
“Give it to me Diroa,” Elliot groans. His hands gripping my hips and his tongue ravishing me.
Like the last fucking dinner. An uncontrollable cry threatens to leave me and I hold it back.
I can’t… I can’t accept this. This is his goodbye.
It doesn’t take a rock scientist to figure that out.
If I resist, maybe it really won’t end. Maybe I can keep him. Maybe he won’t leave.
“Diora.” His voice isn’t a moan, it registers like a warning in my ear. My skin gets tight as my orgasm tries to push through me.
“No,” I gasp. My forehead resting on the seat. My sweat leaves wet spots on the leather as Elliot enters another finger in. My hips tingle so good and my orgasm is so close but I can’t. I can’t let this end.
My core constricts and I shake with the need to come but I don’t allow it. Cramps force me to heave as pleasure fights to break through the wall I put up.
He pumps his fingers in and out faster now. Readjusting me so he can suck on my clit harder. I can’t… I can’t resist. My mind goes blank. I pant as he builds me up past the point of no return.
“Come Diora.” His voice commands and my body listens. My mind completely lost to the mix of pain and pleasure racking my body.
I come against the flat of his tongue with his fingers inside me as despair fills the empty my orgasm left behind. The sob threatening me finally comes out as tears drip from my eyes. Tears. Actual tears.
He presses a light kiss against me before pulling me back down into his lap.
My pussy is so raw as he sits me down in his lap again and leans his chair back up.
He kisses my forehead and I savor the feel of his lips against me.
I lean against him whipping my tears on his chest and refusing to look up. Fuck. This… can’t be over.
“Your turn?” I brokenly mutter. Trying to slide in his lap, I’m desperate to not let things end, but his hands on my hips stop me.
“Not today, Little Crane,” he sighs as his brown eyes peer down at me. He kisses me. I can taste myself on his tongue. I try to take it deeper, but he doesn’t let me. He leans away from my kiss. I get a rush of disappointment but also something more.
Desperation? I feel him slipping through my fingers, and I don’t know how to get him to stop.
“We have time,” I mutter, wanting to crawl down his lap. It’s not only the fact that I miss the taste of him, but that I know—I can feel—that once we leave this car, it’s over. Something is over, and I can’t—I don’t want… This can’t be over.
This can’t be goodbye.
He doesn’t let me move. My eyes shoot to his in a panic. I try to be seductive, warming, alluring. I don’t know. I need something. I need him.
I touch the side of his face, trying to get him to look at me, and though his gaze reaches my eyes, he’s not looking at me, he’s looking through me.
His eyes fog over, and I can see him slipping back into his mind.
“Elliot,” I say, trying to bring him back. “What’s wrong? Tell me. I can’t fix what I don’t know.”
“You can’t fix this, Little Crane.”
“I can.”
“I have to do this myself.” He sighs. He rests his hand on the back of my head and guides me to lie on his chest. I fall and rise with his breath, and my chest shatters. It constricts with a pain I’m not familiar with, and I wanna meet Elliot’s eyes, but now I can’t.
I’m the one hiding.
I can’t face his goodbye head on. When have I ever been too weak to do… anything.
“Do what, Elliot?” I ask. My voice comes out small, in a way I’ve never heard before, and it makes me want to stop talking.
I have to be strong and yet I can’t. I've always been the strong one. Juliet was my delicate flower and I was the dirt that kept her protected. I needed to be that for Elliot but he won’t let me.
And my heart hurts for it. Physically. My chest aches.
I never thought heartbreak was real before.