17. Chapter 17 #2
"Sure, go right ahead." He snorts. "Feel me up. Limited time offer. And I still contend that Mariana and Mi Reina are close enough that you should love it."
If you say it a hundred times, fast, they blend together. Come on, try it with me.
He said that to me once, and the memory floats to me all this time later, despite how different everything is. My heart wrinkles.
I follow his shape down his arm. "I can feel the way you're tensing up. Why?"
"I'm making an exception to comfort you. Not to… do… anything else."
"Was that a possibility?"
I stare up at him again. He doesn't say anything.
"One thing I can see," I say. "How impassive you're trying to look."
"Mariana."
"One thing I can hear. The way you say my name."
I bring my hands to his sides, and run them up in the way he used to love. Up his ribcage and around his back.
"You're evil." His voice barely makes it above a whisper.
"What do you think I should touch?" I whisper.
"Depends. Are you still playing that grounding game?"
"Of course." I chew on my bottom lip. "You said I could use you."
"Then touch anything you want. Just this once. Choose wisely."
"Stay still."
I end with my hands behind his neck. I savor his short hair on my palms. I bring down his head.
"I always loved kissing you," I say.
"Good choice," he mutters…
And it's him who puts his lips on mine.
The kiss is slow. Exploring. It's soothing, bringing a deep calm to my insides. Like I can forget all my worries, and let them melt into the darkness, if I hold on to this one bright spot full of light. Of life. Sparks.
Our movements are gentle, but he pushes me against the elevator wall. He kisses my neck. His erection presses against my belly. I arch a thumb down his neck, until I can feel the strong pulse there.
"What I choose is to touch you," I breathe. "All of you."
"Fuck, Mariana."
"Yes. That."
Make me forget. Make me feel. Make me say to hell with everything, and take, take, take.
A burst of air fans my cheek. He stares at me, right here in the dim light. The details on his face hide in the shadows, but I don't need the sun on him to remember every single line.
I used to want to stare at him for hours. The view got sketched directly onto my memory.
Whatever he sees on me makes him relent.
"Just this once." His hands travel up the hills of my waist, until they cup my breasts.
"Last time."
Because maybe I am someone who can be selfish.
Now his fingers journey down my body. "Last time."
"Don't stop." I open a few extra buttons on his shirt. I need his skin. "I want you."
He unbuttons my pants. His eyes are locked on mine. One of his hands dives between underwear and the round of my belly, and my breath catches as soon as two fingers slide between my labia to find my clit.
"You're so wet," he says.
I put a hand on him. "You're so hard."
"Don't make me come."
"Why?" I rub my palm on his length, root to head, making circles at the end with the bottom of my hand. "You want me to edge you? You used to love that."
"Fucking hell." He rubs my clit. I moan. "Eventually we'll get out of here, and I'm wearing pants. Save me the embarrassment of a wet spot, for God's sake."
"I thought you were letting me use you." I whine. "For grounding."
"Right. That's what we're doing."
He pushes his hand forward. Two fingertips rim my entrance.
I shiver. "Too bad I don't have anything to tie your hands together with here."
"Don't start."
"Seeing you strain, your arms bound behind your back, while I rode your thigh or sucked you or rode you…"
"Jesus." He dips fingertips into me.
"You know, there are ways to make sure you won't leave this elevator with a wet spot."
"Mari."
"We can… fuck."
He stops. He heard the frustration in my voice. I cling to him, already missing the effect of his fingers on me.
"We already used the condom—" I start. "I didn't replace it—"
"We won't do more than this." He goes back to playing with me. "You'll leave this elevator walking on clouds."
I moan. His cock jerks under my palm, and I resume my work on him. The way he touches me intensifies, and I echo the change.
"Slow down. Please," he says.
I do, but he doesn't. I close my eyes. Blood rushes in my ears. It pools in my core. I clench on nothing.
"Dom. We didn't use condoms after a while. And I— I've been to the doctor— you must have been too— I'm fine without one if you— if you are. Is it fine?"
"It could be." He makes long passes of his fingers on my clit, to my entrance, where they hook before they return to the most sensitive spot. "But I still won't fuck you."
Rasping breaths. Our voices. Gentle wet sounds and the rustling of fabric. All sounds blend together in the elevator, while heat blooms and expands through me, and if there's enough light around us now, for sure some of it shines from within me too.
I can forget about fears and nerves altogether, when pleasure offers to overtake everything else.
My knees buckle. "Remember how you used to push your cum back inside? We could… you could…"
He makes a groan that has me at the edge.
"Can't fuck you properly without also rocking this elevator too hard. We can't risk it."
"What if… I'd like it if you…" I don't know why I can't finish my sentence.
Maybe because we're not supposed to be doing any of this. But we're doing it. Sweet distraction. Sweet, sweet dream. It feels too good to call it wrong.
"I'll be very still," I manage.
Two, three seconds later, and he makes up his mind.
"Turn around."
His gravelly voice has me whimpering.
I don't fight. I turn.
He pushes against me, flattening me against the wall. "Do you have any idea what that needy voice does to me? Is that why you use it?"
His hand digs into my pants again, rough on my clit a few times. My orgasm tantalizes me, and I'm torn between delaying it or running toward it. I don't need to choose. He pulls his hands away and pushes my pants down, underwear included, to my mid-thighs.
With confident hands, he positions me so my back curves and my ass displays for him.
"Push your clothes down." He touches me from behind, just soft passes of his fingertips over my labia, in the small section he can reach between my thick thighs and ass. "I'm busy."
He presses a finger until he can rim my entrance again. I push my pants down desperately.
I hear rustling behind me. He pulls me from my hips until I take a few small steps back. With a firm hand he bends me down somewhat, then lifts my leg until my knee braces on the handrail.
"Dom," I moan.
"Maybe my cock has the power to cure your anxiety," he rumbles. "Should we give it a good try?"
The hot tip of his erection parts my lips, right where he teased me a moment ago. But he doesn't push. I sway back.
"Don't." One hand goes to my hair. He holds my face against metal, my hair taut among his fingers. "You said you'd hold still."
"I will. I will. Now do it."
"I should take this chance to tell you no." He enters me slowly. Too slowly. "But I'm finding I don't want to, after all. Not today. A fucking exception, you hear me?"