Chapter 13 #4
My body, despite its physical satiation, was suddenly starving, overcome with need for this man. The roughness of his palms along my skin. His lips, his weight on top of my body.
My hands gripped the side of the chair as he approached, battling against the overwhelming need to stand up, take charge, jump on him and tear his clothes off.
It’s what I would’ve done in the past. Though it was difficult, it was somehow more erotic to deny that impulse to control, knowing that Elliot would tell me what I needed to do.
Gone was the smiling, easygoing, carefree man from dinner. Striding toward me was another beast entirely, with a salacious glint in his eye, an intensity to him that was mine alone.
He pulled out his chair, turning it to face outward so he could sit in it, spreading his legs, never taking his eyes off me.
“On your knees,” he commanded.
My body jolted at the order, the rough, deep baritone of his voice, skating across every inch of my skin, squirreling its way into my pulsating core.
I surged from my chair, quickly stepping toward him and lowering myself onto my knees.
The hardwood floor was rough, cold against my knees, but not entirely uncomfortable. The sensations were welcome, helping to grip me there, forcing me to remain in the present, without my mind wandering anywhere but that current moment.
My hands settled on his thighs, the rough denim of his jeans pressing against my palms. The heat from his muscled legs seemed to radiate through the fabric into me.
I glanced up to his crotch, where his hard cock was already visibly straining against the jeans. My finger twitched with the instinct to reach there, to grab a hold of him. But I stopped, breathing rapidly.
“You’re waiting.” My eyes found Elliot’s. His were dark, hungry and approving. “For me to tell you.”
I nodded, my mouth so dry I found it hard to swallow.
He reached to my hair, which was again coiled in a tight bun at the nape of my neck.
Like he had at the bar, he pulled it from the clip, a clatter sounding when he hurled it at the floor.
Unlike last time, I didn’t protest about some ridiculous designer hair clip.
My lips stayed slightly parted. I was already starting to pant like a fucking dog as his fingers brushed through my strands, massaging my scalp for a handful of moments. Minutes? Lifetimes?
Elliot took care to tuck my hair behind my ears before he leaned back in his seat.
“You can move your hands now,” he said, voice a lower rasp. “Undo my belt.”
Though I itched to lunge for his cock like some sex-starved animal, I forced myself to keep my movements slow, measured, as I unbuckled his belt and undid his jeans.
I was shaking as I pulled him from his underwear, hard and long and perfect. My hands looked positively dainty wrapped around the girth of his cock.
Elliot let out a loud hiss through his teeth as I gently squeezed, not otherwise moving my hand, although the need to do so was instinctual.
My mouth tasted of copper as I realized that I’d sunk my teeth into the flesh of my lip hard enough to draw blood in my restraint, my yearning.
We were suspended in that state for what felt like hours, when in reality it was likely only a handful of seconds. Me holding on to Elliot’s hard, twitching cock, tasting blood and tense with the need to make him cum. For once, my own pleasure was miles from my mind.
“Suck my dick, Calliope.” I could’ve cried out in relief at Elliot’s soft-spoken instruction. Finally, something to do to assuage the hunger inside of me.
As I moved my head to do just that, fingers latched onto my chin, roughly, tight enough to hurt. Just a sliver of pain, though. Nothing I couldn’t handle.
My eyes lifted to Elliot’s, heart galloping, my mouth already moist, ready to take him.
“You don’t touch yourself,” he ordered. “I can tell that your cunt is already drenched, aching for attention. You’re not getting it till I say so.”
I nodded rapidly, desperate for him to release me so I could do what I was told.
Elliot eyed me intently as he pushed his fingers into my mouth. I dutifully sucked them, grazing them with my teeth, warning him of my need for his fingers to swap with his cock.
He slowly removed them, eyes hooded. “Now you can suck it. ” I wanted to beam at his gravelly rasp.
My mouth swiftly found the head, lapping at the pre-cum that had already beaded at the top.
I took him in slowly. He was big, so my mouth could only fit about half of him.
But I continued until I couldn’t anymore, his hand finding the back of my head, exerting a gentle yet exciting pressure.
Not enough to choke me on his cock, but the prospect was there. The power.
It didn’t scare me. It made my already soaked pussy quiver with need, satisfaction. He could make me gag, treat me like a tool, but he wouldn’t.
I moved up and down, my hand working in tandem with my mouth, my knees smarting against the hardwood floor.
Elliot kept his hand on the back of my head, pressure waxing and waning as he emitted soft grunts of pleasure.
My jaw ached from the exertion, my muscles taut, coiled and crying out for release. I hadn’t thought that I could get any kind of pleasure from performing oral sex—and if a woman had told me prior to that, I would’ve called her a liar.
Yet there I was, pleasure burgeoning inside of me from just the act. I’d never climax from that alone, but it wouldn’t take much to get me there. Just some friction and I’d explode.
Though I wasn’t one to quit, to accept failure, I wasn’t sure how much longer I could go.
Elliot was just so fucking big. And I was also greedy, practically mad with need.
Moisture escaped from the corners of my eyes.
From the effort. From the restraint it took me not to take my free hand and put it on my aching clit.
“Calliope.” My name sounded like it was said under water.
I looked up, Elliot still filling my mouth, my vision clouded by tears.
“Give me your mouth.” There was a thickness, a roughness to his voice I didn’t recognize. When I released his cock to properly look at him, I understood why. Elliot’s face was a mask of arousal and of restraint. The veins in his neck were protruding, his brows furrowed, eyes dark with pleasure.
Renewed desire rushed through me like a fucking blood transfusion. I’d done that. Taken him there. I had plenty of power of my own despite being on my knees, taking orders.
My mouth… He’d wanted it. On his, I presumed.
And I so badly wanted to obey his command, wanted him to taste my desire, his pre-cum, everything.
Yet my knees were throbbing, my limbs jelly, so I was doubting my body’s ability to push up to cross the distance to his mouth. I wanted to scream in frustration and shame that I’d sunken to such a state.
When Elliot saw me pause, his hands swiftly went under my armpits, tugging me upward and plastering our mouths together in one smooth move.
I groaned in delight as our tongues met, as he took over the kiss, my own mouth aching from the exertion of stretching around his cock.
He kissed me until the blood returned to my extremities, until it felt like my knees would hold me again, like I was strong again.
Detaching us, he took hold of my neck as his eyes roved over every millimeter of my face. I had no idea what I looked like right then. My lips were likely red, swollen, my hair a mess around my face. Surely, my heated cheeks were flushed by the intense yearning emanating from my every pore.
“You took me like such a fucking good girl.” Elliot looked at me like I was the first sunrise after a month of darkness, his rough voice full of approval.
My tongue darted out to lick my lips, tasting of him.
His eyes followed the movement.
“You can stand?”
Hearing the concern in his voice, I nodded slowly.
“Good.” He manhandled me backward, setting me on unsteady legs.
“Undress.” He was sitting in his chair, cock still out, moist from my mouth and standing at attention, yet somehow, he did not look anything but the hottest man on planet Earth.
I didn’t pause before shedding my dress, relieved to remove the texture that was too much sensation on my skin. The act of tugging my dress off wasn’t sexy; I wasn’t performing some kind of strip tease. But if Elliot had wanted me to slow down, he would’ve told me to.
He didn’t.
In under a minute, my dress was discarded on the floor and I stood panting and naked in front of a fully clothed Elliot. My nipples were hard peaks, my knees quivering from the act of holding myself up. If I so much as brushed my thighs together, I feared I’d erupt.
Though I wanted to move, wanted some kind of release, some kind of mercy against the relentless pounding between my legs, the chills pebbling my skin, I stayed rooted on the spot, my eyes on Elliot, waiting for his command.
He hungrily took in my naked body, his hand going to his cock and giving it one purposeful and impossibly erotic tug as if he couldn’t resist, eyes on me, grunting in pleasure at the single stroke.
“Sit on my cock, Calliope,” he ordered, still holding himself at the base. “I know you’re fucking soaked and ready. And I’ll be paying attention to that cunt later. But for now, I need to fill you the fuck up and feel you come against my cock.”
My body was impacted by the words, my stomach pitching in response to the heat in his tone, at the weight of his wantonness.
On shaky legs, I straddled him on the chair, going on my tiptoes as my thighs stretched at a slightly unnatural angle in order to properly position myself.
I gasped as the head of his cock brushed against my entrance, giving my wet flesh the attention it craved.
Elliot ran his cock along the length of my pussy, torturing me, lubricating himself.
I wanted to cry in frustration, my nails digging into where I was holding his shoulders to steady myself.
Me, naked, teetering above his cock as he was fully clothed below me.
It felt tawdry, like I was his sex slave.
I fucking loved it.
I thought I knew what he was going to do, that he was going to torture me some more, keep me on the precipice of an orgasm. But he didn’t.
“Look at me, Calliope.” Prior to his barked command, I hadn’t realized I’d squeezed my eyes shut.
They burst open, and the second our eyes met, he plunged into me.
I let out a muffled cry at the brutal intrusion and came within seconds of the first surge.
But he didn’t stop, he kept thrusting upward as stars marred my vision, as my body clenched around him, waves crashing over me.
More tears poured from the sides of my eyes at the power of the orgasm, the most intense I’d ever had.
Even stronger than my last time with him.
Last time, when we’d only touched the edge of this dynamic. Of me completely submitting to him.
He kept fucking me, barely having time to recover from the first wave before plunging almost straight into the second.
The sensations seizing my body grew more intense as he let out a grunt as he came.
Feeling his release inside me magnified everything, shooting my pleasure to heights that I didn’t know were possible.
Somehow, he kept going, going until he was fully drained.
By the time we were both done, I’d given him all of my weight, collapsing against him, cock still inside me.
I briefly worried if the chair would be able to hold our weight, but the thought was only fleeting. I couldn’t hold on to anything properly. My body was spent, everything wrung out of me. I felt empty yet impossibly full at the same time.
We stayed like that, both of us breathing heavily, my body covered in a thin sheen of sweat.
Then Elliot grabbed my chin, savagely kissing me. “You think I’m done with you?”
His hand squeezed my bare ass as he stood, somehow expertly stepping out of the jeans that had pooled around his ankles. He was still hard inside me, through another act of Elliot sorcery.
I let out a groan of pleasure, wrapping my legs around him.
“I’m far from fucking done with you, Calliope.”
While carrying me across the room, I didn’t look to see where he was taking us. I didn’t want to. I didn’t care. As long as I was going somewhere with Elliot inside me, I could relax.
As long as I was with Elliot Shaw, I was safe.
The same could not be said for him.