Chapter 18 So Domestic
So Domestic
Eli's Search History: can you be jealous of yourself?
Eli
This.
This is perfect.
Just me and my angel. And Graham, stretched out contentedly on the other sofa.
So domestic. Just sitting here, watching a film side by side.
The only thing that would make it better is if we were naked—my cock buried in her pussy. Or her ass. Or her mouth.
Fuck.
I’m so hard I have to subtly adjust myself.
Emily falls asleep before the credits roll, her head lolling until it lands on my shoulder. Even through my shirt, her warmth sinks into my skin and sets it buzzing.
When the film ends, I rise slowly, careful not to wake her, and scoop her into my arms.
She lets out a soft snore, nuzzling into my chest, one hand fisting my shirt like she wants to pull me closer.
God, she’s perfect.
I cradle her as I move us upstairs, carrying her to our bedroom. Gently laying her on the king-sized bed, I help her out of her clothes while she mumbles sleepily.
Adorable.
Her body stretches out before me like a feast. Those perfect tits. That glistening, soaked pussy.
Wait—
Wet.
I groan under my breath.
Even in sleep, she wants me.
Maybe just a taste.
I part her legs, crawling between them until my face hovers over her slick centre—shining, begging for my tongue.
Pushing the mask up onto the top of my head, I press my tongue flat to her, dragging it slowly through her slit.
She moans softly, and I freeze—
My eyes flick up.
Still asleep.
I spread her open, staring down at the wetness coating her thighs. I breathe her in, deep and slow, then lick her clit, sucking it into my mouth.
Fuck.
Her taste is addictive.
Her hips twitch, rolling against my mouth. I hold her open as I dip lower, plunging my tongue into her and fucking her with it.
Then I swap it out for two fingers and suck her clit again, working her from both ends.
“Eli,” she breathes—a whispered moan.
I freeze.
Fuck.
Does she know?
I lift my head slowly.
Her eyes are still closed. Sleep still written across her face.
Maybe she’s dreaming.
Dreaming of Eli.
I don’t know how to feel about that.
She shouldn’t know that he and I are the same. Which means... she’s moaning another man’s name while my tongue is inside her.
Jesus.
I’m jealous of myself.
I told her she’s mine. She shouldn’t be fantasizing about him.
But maybe—maybe it’s a good sign. Maybe she’s ready to accept the truth.
The thoughts tangle, too heavy to ignore. I slip off the bed and pad to the ensuite.
Brushing my teeth, I resent every second I spend washing away the taste of her.
When I return, my mask is back in place.
She’s still asleep, her chest rising and falling, making her tits bounce slightly with each breath.
My cock twitches at the sight.
I wish I could sleep naked beside her. But she already knows my tattoos as belonging to Eli. I keep a long-sleeved top on, but I remove my jeans and boxers.
Sliding into bed beside her, I can’t stop staring. Can’t stop wanting.
My hand wraps around myself and I stroke slowly, watching her. Imagining her waking beneath me. Arching. Pleading.
It would be so easy to just take her. To bury myself inside her and mark her as mine.
She already is.
But I want her to choose it. To submit. To give herself to me completely.
My pace quickens, fist tightening as my hips stutter.
I climb to my knees, release flooding out of me as I come all over her. Painting her in me.
I drag a finger through the mess, then press it inside her still-slick cunt.
Maybe it’ll take. Maybe she’ll get pregnant. Then she’ll have to be mine.
I don’t wipe her clean. I want her coated in me. I’d bathe her in it if I could.
Instead, I curl around her. One arm draped over her waist, the other tucked beneath her neck.
She wiggles back into me in her sleep, grinding her ass into my cock.
I groan. Already hard again.
But I let sleep take me, breathing her in like a drug.