Chapter 22 #3
“Trust me, I’m going to love it,” he says. He strokes himself, keeping his eyes locked on mine. “But only if you love it, so tell me.”
“I’ll tell you,” I say. Mostly out of desperation.
“Good,” he says. “How do you want it, Secora?”
“I–I don’t…” I arch again, feeling a flare of heat rush through my face. “I don’t know, Elliot. I’ve never…”
“We’ll start slow,” he says. His voice is ragged, the only indication this is torture for him as much as it is for me. “Then, you’ll tell me. All right?”
“Yes,” I say. It’s a plea more than an agreement.
Luckily, it seems to be enough.
He shifts me higher and notches himself at my entrance. I clench my legs around him, shocked at the immediate sense of pressure. Too big. Too much.
“Relax,” he whispers. “I’ve got you.”
It’s what I need to hear. I relax my legs, allowing them to part farther.
Elliot cups one hand behind my neck to keep my head from hitting the bark, and the other beneath my ass.
He presses a soft kiss to my temple, then the edge of my mouth.
When his lips finally meet mine, and his tongue smooths over mine, he presses forward.
I whimper as he inches into me. I make myself as pliant as I can, letting myself soften.
With each shallow thrust, I become fuller and the pressure becomes more overwhelming, until it’s all I can feel.
Just when I’m sure it’s too much, when I’m on the verge of asking him to stop, Elliot grunts against my mouth.
Animalistic and unfiltered. Satisfied in a way I’m sure I’ve never heard him. Heat scorches through me, and I buck in response, making room where I feared there wasn’t any. He slides farther, filling me until he is fully seated. His hips dig against the soft flesh of my thighs.
I open my eyes, only now realizing I’d closed them. Elliot is looking at where we’re joined, his mouth parted, chest heaving with barely restrained breaths. He looks up, eyes dark and desperate and alive.
“Okay?” he asks. His grip tightens over my neck, and I arch in response, clenching around him. He grunts. “Fuck. Careful. You’ll make me come.”
“Sorry,” I say. But I’m not, not even a little bit. I’m smiling, glancing between Elliot and the place he’s buried inside me. I shift again, and we both groan. “You have to move, I think. It’s too…you’re too…”
He pulls out, and the pain is more than the pleasure. I suck a breath through my teeth, my features crinkling.
“It will get better,” he promises. Another thrust. Another. “I promise. If it doesn’t, tell me…”
I dig my fingers into his shoulders and relax into him. The pain…I remember. When Harrison raped me, it’s all I felt. Panic and pain, helplessness and shame. For a fleeting moment, I’m terrified that’s how sex will feel too. That though I’m not afraid, I won’t like it either.
But then…
“Oh,” I whisper. The pain subsides, shifting into something softer yet stronger. It coils through my insides, building with heat and pleasure and it’s suddenly so good I can’t fully process it. I become a mess of discordant mumbling as he fucks me with steady, slow strokes.
“Better?” he asks gruffly. He shifts, moving his hand from my neck to my skirt. He twists it out of the way and presses his thumb to my clit, massaging in tight circles.
It’s too much. Only now, it’s in the best way imaginable. I don’t remember how to work my mouth, so I communicate with my body. I dig my heels harder into his back, urging him closer. I scrape my nails over his shoulders. I shift my hips, meeting his steady thrusts with my own, clumsier movements.
“I should’ve taken this off,” he mutters.
It takes me a moment to realize he’s talking about my skirt. He’s flipped it out of the way again, exposing my cunt to the cool forest air. His cock pumps in and out, shiny and slick with my arousal.
“Next time,” he says. His words are so mumbled, I’m not sure whether they’re for me. “We’re doing this in my bed. Lights on. I’ll memorize every. Fucking. Piece. Of. You.”
Between each word, he thrusts, gradually pumping harder and faster. I tighten my hold on his shoulders and accept that I can’t keep up. He’s fucking me like an animal, too fast and too skilled for me to contribute. I stare at him, at us, in fascination.
“I’m going to come,” I say. It’s breathless, and I’m not sure he’s heard me at first. I’m still staring where we’re joined, feeling halfway in this world, half in another.
“Look at me, Secora,” he says. “Let me watch you come for me.”
I do as he says, but only barely. The intensity of his dark gaze pushes me over the edge immediately. My eyes roll to the back of my head as he thrusts, so deep I can feel him everywhere. I cry out in pleasure, so lost in euphoria I don’t care how loud I’m being.
Elliot surges forward, capturing my mouth with his. He swallows my sounds, claims them as if they’re his, and his alone.
I’m so consumed by my own pleasure I don’t realize Elliot has pulled out until his hot cum spurts against my thighs and the edges of my skirt. He keeps me held to him, hand under my ass, mouth tracing leisurely kisses along my jaw.
“I’ve made a mess of you,” he says. He takes a ragged breath, nipping the edge of my ear before pulling back. “I should say I’m sorry.”
“Are you?” I ask. I’m dizzy and sated, and I must be a masochist for asking such a terrible question.
“Not even a little,” he says. He rests his forehead against mine, his reddened lips curving into a smile. “I’ll clean you up. And then we’ll do this again. And again. And again.”
“Perhaps in your bed next time?” I ask. I’m trying to tease him, but I’m too breathless to pull it off. I sound wistful. Dreamy. “With the lights on?”
“Everywhere,” he says. His lips brush mine before he pulls back. “We’ll do this everywhere. In every way imaginable.”
“Promise?” I ask. I hate the way my voice dips, the way it weakens.
“I swear it,” he says. “However you’ll have me, Secora, I’m yours.”