Chapter 4
ELIAS
I've been in a fog for three days.
Three fucking days since I had Elise in my lap, her skin under my fingers, her mouth against mine. Three days of cold showers and sleepless nights, replaying every gasp, every shudder, every grind of her hips against mine.
After team practice, I'm first out the door, phone already in hand. I've typed and deleted the same text to Elise at least twenty times over the past three days. The "practice" excuse is so fucking transparent a child could see through it, but I can't come up with anything better.
I sit in my car, staring at my phone. Finally, I start typing.
Me: Need to finalize reunion details. My place tonight?
Simple. Straightforward. Complete, utter bullshit.
I hit send before I can overthink it again, then immediately regret it. Who the fuck says "finalize details" about a high school reunion?
Three minutes later, she responds.
Elise: Sure. What time?
Yes! 'I'm the king of the world,' I recite in my head, while making a fist and punching the air. Relief floods through me so intensely it's embarrassing. I suggest 7:00, she agrees, and suddenly I have six hours to get my shit together.
I change my shirt three times like I'm sixteen going on my first date. I clean my already-clean apartment and order food from my favorite Chinese dim sum place. I choose a bottle of wine, put it out, then change my mind, re-select, and replace it with another. Then another.
I'm a goddamn disaster. I am never like this, never indecisive.
At 6:58, my doorbell rings.
I take a deep breath, run a hand through my hair one last time, and open the door.
Elise stands in the hallway wearing a simple black dress that hugs every curve, her wavy hair loose above her shoulders. Whatever coherent thought I had flies out the window.
Jesus.
"Hi," she says, a nervous semi-smile on her lips.
"Hello." I step back to let her in, painfully aware of how my apartment suddenly feels underdecorated.
"You look beautiful."
Her smile softens. "Thanks."
"Glass of wine?"
I pour us each a glass. When I turn back, she's standing by the windows, looking out at the traffic below. I walk over, hand her the wine, careful not to let our fingers brush. I'm hanging on by a thread as it is. If we start accidentally touching now, I don't doubt I'll spontaneously combust.
"So," she says after taking a sip, "what reunion details do we need to finalize?"
Her tone is light and teasing. She knows exactly what this is.
"Maybe we should also tell them I've been following your writing career. You know, so it won't seem like we suddenly re-bonded from out of nowhere."
She rolls her eyes. "You mean my non-existent writing career?"
"It exists. I read your work in high school, remember? Was already a fan."
Her blush deepens. Her eyebrows jump, "A fan, huh? You know, I had no idea you even knew I wrote those, and was even less aware that anyone, let alone you..." She pauses, and her blush burns—
"There's a lot you don't know about me." I'm close enough now that her breath coasts over my skin, enough to cause my cock to stir towards attention. "Like how I wanted to ask you to prom."
Elise sucks in a sharp breath, her eyebrows furrow. "What?"
"I was going to ask you, complete with flowers and everything, but then I overheard you telling someone you weren't going."
"I wasn't going because I thought you'd be with Mia."
Shit. Really? "Well, I didn't go either. Couldn't see the point if you weren't there."
The air goes heavy all at once. Her throat moves as she swallows, and my body responds before my brain catches up.
"That's ... that would make a good cover story," she says, her voice unsteady.
"Would it?"
She sets her wine glass down on the side table, and I do the same. We're only a few inches apart, and I can see the flutter of her pulse at the base of her throat.
God, I can't even explain this magnetic pull to her. It's like every inch of my body is screaming for her. Elise is the sole object of my starvation, and I don't even mind at all.
"Elise."
"Yes?"
"I have a confession to make. This isn't about the reunion."
"I know."
"I haven't been able to think about anything else since that day at your apartment."
"Me neither."
"That kiss..." I reach out, letting my finger graze along her jaw.
"Was just practice."
"Bullshit." My hand slides to the back of her neck. "We both know that's bullshit."
She doesn't deny it this time. Instead, she sways forward, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment.
"I've got one more confession to make."
Elise sucks her bottom lip between her teeth, and just like that, my brain malfunctions. "What is it, Elias?"
"I've been really obsessed with you since high school." I swallow hard, clearing my throat. "Correction, even during high school."
Her mouth forms an 'o', and she shakes her head. "That's not possible. No. Why me?"
"Why not? Why the hell do you think I haven't dated all these years? No one could hold a candle to you."
"But you're THE Elias King, and I'm … I'm just me." She means little, plain, underachieving me. But I'm not having that.
"You are more than enough. You're more than enough for me, Elise."
"Maybe we should practice some more then."
Well, damn. With fucking pleasure.
My mouth finds hers with an urgency that surprises even me.
There's none of the hesitation of our first kiss.
This is desperate from the start, all open mouths and searching tongues.
My hands grip her waist, pulling her flush against me.
Hers thread through my hair, tugging just enough to make me groan.
I walk her backward until she hits the wall, never breaking the kiss. Her body arches into mine, and I slide my hand down to grip her thigh, hitching it up over my hip to press closer, grinding against her pussy.
"Elias," she gasps against my mouth.
Hearing my name like that—breathy, desperate, so much longing—nearly makes me come in my pants. I kiss down her neck, nipping at the sensitive spot below her ear, rewarded by the way she shudders.
I lead her to the sectional, sit down, and pull her onto my lap so she's straddling me, just like last time. But this time, I'm not stopping. Not unless she tells me to.
My hands find the hem of her dress, sliding up her thighs to grip her hips. She grinds down against my cock that's already barbell hard.
"Can I take this off?" I ask, tugging gently at her dress.
She nods, lifting her arms as I pull it over her head, revealing a black lace bra and matching panties. A swift, fierce heat sweeps through me, melting my brain into soup.
"Fuck, look at you," I growl, drinking her in. "So goddamn beautiful."
Her hands move to the buttons of my shirt, fumbling slightly in her eagerness. I help her, shrugging it off and tossing it aside. When she presses against me, skin to skin, I have to close my eyes for a moment to regain control.
"Been thinking about this for days, Elise. About you."
"Me too." Her fingers trace the muscles of my abdomen, making them jump under her touch.
I unclasp her bra, sliding it down her arms, and then she's bare from the waist up, her perfect breasts right there in front of me. I cup them reverently, brushing my thumbs over her nipples, watching them harden under my touch.
"So responsive," she smiles, but her sheepishness drops a hint that I'd better not get too vocal.
I take one nipple into my mouth, sucking gently, rolling it between my lips, then with more pressure when she moans.
"Elias…"
I switch to her other breast, lavishing it with the same attention while my hand slides between us, pressing against the damp lace between her thighs.
"Already wet," I growl against her skin. "Is this all for me?"
"Uh-uh," She grinds against my palm. "Just—," she pauses, presses down, "— for you."
I slip my fingers beneath the lace, finding her slick and swollen. Fuck, my self-control is fraying thread by fucking thread. Elise buries her face in my neck, muffling moans as I stroke her slowly. "I want to taste you," I say against her ear. "Let me taste you, Elise."
She pulls back to look at me, eyes wide and dark with desire. For a moment, I think she might say no—might think this is all moving too fast—but then, she nods.
I press a kiss to the inside of her thigh. "Every part of you is so fucking beautiful." Her shyness triggers something inside me. Reminding me to submit to her hesitant cues and to be gentle. Her pace, not mine.
I take my time, kissing up one thigh and down the other, watching her squirm with anticipation. When I finally lean in to taste her with a broad stroke of my tongue on her slit, she makes a sound that goes straight to my cock—half gasp, half moan.
When I focus on the sensitive bundle of nerves at her clit, sucking gently while sliding a finger inside her, she breathes out.
"Elias, oh God. Mmm. Please don't stop."
I don't stop. Not when her thighs begin to tremble, not when her grip on my hair tightens to the point of pain, not when her words dissolve into incoherent sounds of pleasure.
I don't stop, don't relent, determined to give her everything she needs.
Her hips buck harder. In an irregular rhythm, seeming to have a mind of their own. I flatten my tongue on her clit.
"Come for me, Elise. Let me feel you come on my tongue."
That pushes her over the edge. Her body goes rigid, then shakes with the force of her release, her inner walls clench around my fingers, her tasty juices flood my mouth.
I work her through it, lightening my touch as the aftershocks ripple through her, until finally she pushes weakly at my head, too sensitive to take any more.
I press one last kiss to her inner thigh before sliding up to join her on the couch. She immediately curls into me, still trembling, her face and chest flushed, her eyes dazed.
I'm still painfully hard, but I don't care. This moment—her in my arms, sated and soft and weak-limbed—is worth everything.
We lie there for a long time. Her breathing gradually returns to normal. I stroke her hair, her back, unable to stop touching her.
Finally, she tilts her head up to look at me. "You didn't..."
"This was about you," I say, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I needed to show you what you do to me ... what you mean to me."
Elise shifts against me, her hand trailing down my chest to the waistband of my jeans. "What if I want it to be about both of us?"
My cock twitches at her words. "Elise, you don't have to—"
Her fingers pop the button on my jeans. "My turn, Elias."
I lift my hips so she can tug my jeans and boxers down enough to free me.
My cock springs up and wobbles erratically for a second before settling to attention.
A bead of pre-cum springs off the tip. Ready.
When her small hand wraps around my length, I hiss through clenched teeth, fighting for control.
She rubs her thumb up and over the tip, circling the pre-cum around my head.
"Show me what you like," she says.
I cover her hand with mine, guiding her through the first few strokes, showing her the pressure and pace I need. She's a quick learner. She picks up the rhythm and adds a twist of her wrist that has me groaning.
"Like that?"
"Yes, baby. Fuck, that's perfect."
I bite my tongue to regain composure.
She leans down to press kisses along my jaw, my neck, my collarbone, but her hand never stops its steady motion. I'm already embarrassingly close—the combination of going down on her and now her hand on me is pushing me rapidly toward my own orgasm.
My hips buck up into her grip. "Baby, I'm close."
"Good. I want to watch you come apart for me."
A coil of tension rolls through me, and the orgasm hits me like a freight train, my come spurts out in a high arc, again and again, then drops, spilling over her hand and my stomach, my vision briefly whiting out with the intensity of it, and dopamine rising into the base of my skull.
An intense euphoric high blasts through my brain.
When I can focus again, she's looking at me with a mixture of wonder and satisfaction. I pull her down for a kiss, slow and deep, pouring years and years of neediness into it.
I know we're still pretending this is about the reunion, still hiding behind the excuse of "practice" and "planning." Hoping to fool our way through the reunion. But the way she touched me, the way she looked at me...
The only ones we're fooling here are ourselves.
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