Chapter Two Eliott
Dane has my corset top over my head and scattered on the floor within seconds of my bedroom door slamming shut behind us. We stumble in the darkness until the backs of his knees hit the edge of my bed and he drops down onto it, effortlessly pulling me with him as he goes.
His lips find my neck while his hands come up to palm my tits. A shockwave of pleasure shoots through me as his thumb brushes against my nipple, and I arch into his touch.
I’m not under any delusion; there’s no romance in any of this. No sweet nothings whispered in my ear, no longing glances or soft touches with hidden meanings. This is just sex.
But still .
I can’t believe how good this feels already.
Dane works my body like he’s touched it a million times before, responding to my every sigh, moan and shudder. I don’t think I’ve ever had a partner pay such close attention to me before, and the realisation snaps me back to reality with annoying clarity.
The orgasm.
Dane is going to give me my first orgasm.
Should I tell him? I nix that idea almost as quickly as it enters my mind.
That’d be too much pressure on the both of us.
Besides, as long as he keeps doing what he’s doing, which is currently sucking on my nipples as another hand fumbles with my pants, there’s a chance I might just get there without having to say a word.
‘Your ass looks great in these,’ he murmurs as he dips his fingers beneath the waistband of my pants. ‘But they’re a pain to get off.’
I laugh and lift my hips to help him pull them down. ‘Good to know they did the job.’
He hums appreciatively as the pants slide down my thighs and wastes no time at all in palming the newly revealed skin there. ‘I like what’s underneath a little more.’
My heart does a silly little flutter as he sinks his fingers into the soft skin around my hips and pulls me flush against him.
Without the extra layer of clothing between us, it’s impossible to ignore the unmistakable hardness in his own pants right now.
I slide my hands between us and start fumbling with his belt.
He’s trailing kisses along my collarbone and I feel the way his lips curve upwards into a cocky smirk when I dip below the elastic of his boxer briefs and my breath hitches in my throat.
I curl my fingers around his dick and give him a tentative squeeze.
‘ Eliott .’ He groans my name and gives me barely a second to relish in just how low and rough his voice sounds right now, before he leans back onto his haunches. It may be dark, but I can feel his intense gaze burning a pathway down my body as he takes me in.
I resist the urge to place a protective hand over my stomach. I’m not as self-conscious of my body as I used to be, but whispers of my insecurities still linger at times.
‘Fuck.’
Fuck ? And what exactly am I supposed to take from that? Is it a ‘ fuck, you’re so hot ’ or a ‘ fuck, you’re not what I was expecting ’? Or a—
He dives a hand between us and, in one smooth motion, tugs my panties aside.
‘How are you already so wet?’ he murmurs against my lips.
I blink, jolting back to reality for a second. I hadn’t realised he’d got so close again. Before I can respond, he slides a finger inside me, and then another, and then I’m riding his hand while he peppers my neck with kisses.
It feels good.
It feels so fucking good . Dane clearly knows what he’s doing and I can feel the telltale signs of pleasure building in the very depths of my core.
This is it , I tell myself as Dane circles his thumb over my clit and my back arches off the bed. This is it .
My entire body thrums with anticipation.
I’m going to come.
The pleasure builds and builds and builds, like I’m climbing the tallest peak, but instead of reaching the summit, I trip and fall all the way down.
I’ve lost it.
My back slumps against my sheets as I realise the moment has passed me by.
Again.
Dane is blissfully unaware. His fingers are still pumping in and out of me and although I can recognise a tiny pinprick of pleasure stirring inside me, it’s not enough to latch onto.
‘—get a condom?’
I belatedly realise that Dane has stopped fucking me with his fingers and is back on his haunches again. He’s looking at me curiously, his thick brows knitting together in the middle slightly.
‘What was that?’
‘I said I’ll go grab a condom.’ He suddenly looks uncertain, and I realise the look on his face isn’t curiosity – it’s concern. ‘But I don’t have to. Not if you’re not feeling it.’
I feel myself flush beneath him, and I’m grateful that the darkness hides how warm my face must be right now. ‘I’m fine,’ I say as I push up onto my elbows and give him a slow, sweet kiss.
So the foreplay didn’t get me there. That’s fine . The night isn’t over yet. We’ve still got time.
When I pull away, he’s got a dopey grin on his face.
I quirk a brow as I lean back down onto my bed. ‘Condom?’
He hesitates for half a second, then nods and quickly fumbles for the jeans he discarded earlier. I’m sure he finds the condom and gets it on in record time, and the fact that he’s as eager as I am to continue with this sends a burst of confidence shooting through me.
Maybe this time.
He comes to hover over me, his lean and muscular arms bracketing the side of my head as he uses his knee to nudge my legs apart and settle there. ‘You sure?’
I feel a spark of pleasure alight in the pit of my stomach as the weight of his dick rests gently against me. ‘I’m sure.’
He grins, his dimple making a quick reappearance, before he kisses me again.
I get so lost in the kiss – the feel of his tongue against mine, the soft little groans that spill from his lips when I nibble on his bottom lip, how I can feel his heartbeat racing as he presses his chest into mine, like he can’t get close enough – that the feel of him slowly sliding into me makes me gasp.
He groans as he sinks into me, and it doesn’t take long for us to develop a pace that suits us both. Again, it feels good. But it doesn’t go beyond that. It’s not great. It’s not mind-blowing or life-altering. It’s just good . And good isn’t enough for me, apparently.
I try to focus on the small knot of pleasure I can feel building within me, but it’s pointless. I can’t hold onto it for long enough for it to build into something worthwhile.
The realisation that I can’t get there with someone like Dane – who may just be the most attractive man I’ve ever brought back home with me – is a depressing one.
It’s also a realisation I want to deal with alone.
I need this to be over and I need Dane out of here so I can wallow in my own self-pity until Sasha comes sauntering home tomorrow afternoon and she can commiserate with me.
I squeeze my legs tightly around his waist, close my eyes, and huff out a few loud and well-practised moans. The noises come to me with ease. Too easily.
Sasha thinks that it’s terrible that I fake it – ‘ they should know that they suck ’ – but I’ve come to learn that it’s infinitely better than the alternative.
For a lot of men, there’s nothing more ego-bruising than being unable to make the girl you’re sleeping with come.
And I’ve learned first-hand that when a guy’s ego gets bruised, they can get mean.
Cruel, even.
I don’t need that again. Not tonight.
So I dig my fingers into Dane’s skin, arch my back off the bed, and moan like this is the best thing I’ve ever experienced. Like Dane is shattering my whole world with his well-timed strokes, and I’ll never be able to get enough.
Like he’s absolutely ruined sex for me.
I’ve done this move plenty of times before and it usually does the job pretty quickly, but when I peek open an eye, Dane has stopped moving and that curious-slash-concerned look is back on his face again.
‘What?’ I ask, frowning. ‘Is everything all right?’
He blinks at me for a few seconds and then slowly – excruciatingly slowly – pulls out. ‘Are you—’ He pushes himself up, leans back and frowns. ‘Are you faking it?’
Now it’s my turn to blink. I don’t think anyone’s ever been able to tell that I’ve faked before. It’s a terrible thing to brag about, but I’ve got my moaning down to an art. ‘No,’ I lie. ‘No, of course not.’
‘You were!’ His expression flits from offended to amused and back again. ‘Was it not good? You weren’t enjoying it?’
‘You were great!’ My voice rises an octave and I’m not entirely sure why I’m suddenly so desperate to spare his ego. ‘ So good. I wasn’t faking. Come back and finish.’
He shakes his head and, to my relief, his expression seems to settle on amused. ‘No, you’re not feeling it.’
‘I am .’
He exhales a deep breath. ‘Then let’s just say that I’m not feeling it anymore.’
I watch, stunned, as he pushes himself off my bed and starts reaching for his clothes.
‘Dane—’
A small grin tugs at his lips. ‘It’s fine, Eliott.
You changed your mind, no big deal.’ He says it like he really means it, like he’s not at all bothered by the strange turn this night has taken.
‘I had fun and I hope you did, too. Up until…’ He trails off and gestures awkwardly in my direction. ‘Whatever that was.’
My blood feels like fire under my skin, and I can feel it rushing to my face. ‘Yeah. I did.’
He nods, seemingly satisfied with what has to be an incredibly unsatisfying response, and then turns for the door.
‘Wait.’
He glances over his shoulder, a brow raised in question. I fidget with the blanket pooled around me. I should tell him that this has nothing to do with him – that this is definitely a me thing – but the words won’t come. Instead, I give him a sad little smile and he returns it with one of his own.
‘Maybe I’ll see you around, Eliott.’
‘Yeah,’ I say as he steps out of my bedroom and lets the door swing shut behind him. ‘Maybe.’