Chapter 22 #2
Then his mouth joins the party. He lowers his head and starts licking my pussy, using the flat of his tongue in long, deliberate strokes. When he starts using his vampire speed to make his tongue vibrate, my eyes roll back and I nearly levitate off the mattress.
“Oh fuck,” I gasp, my hands jerking against the tie. “Fuck, Elliott…”
I arch and writhe, but he just presses his big palm firmer against my stomach, holding me in place and pinning my hands so I can’t grab at him. Then he pulls back, lips shiny with my arousal as his eyes lock onto mine.
“You’re going to come,” he growls, like he’s diagnosing a symptom.
I shake my head, desperate to drag it out, but he doesn’t relent. He lowers his head again, working his fingers and tongue together until I shatter, crying out his name as my wrists twist in the silk.
My climax feels endless. I’m still shaking when he finally relents, sitting up and licking his lips, but he doesn’t stop there. He slips his fingers out, only to push them back in, this time three at once. The stretch burns, but it’s a good burn, and he watches my reaction like a hawk.
“Still feel good?” he asks, one dark brow arching.
I nod, trembling from overstimulation.
“You’re so damn tight.” He crooks his fingers in a come-hither motion that has me gasping. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I can take it,” I insist, even as I wince at the stretch.
“Oh, I know,” he murmurs, eyes darkening. “You can take anything I give you, little mortal.”
The scientist has officially left the building.
Ordinarily, Elliott’s wound impossibly tight, but like this, he’s different.
Calmer, more confident and certain. Because everything is predictable– he’s operating in an environment where he knows exactly what’s happening and is directing every second of it.
He’s also surprisingly filthy, and I fucking love it.
He fucks me with his fingers steadily as his thumb rubs my clit again, and I spiral straight into a second orgasm, clenching down hard on his digits.
Tears leak from the corners of my eyes, and I’m not even embarrassed.
He croons something about how well I’m doing, but I’m too gone to process it, panting and shaking as I ride it out.
Only when I’m limp and boneless does he pull away, sucking his fingers clean before he slides off the bed and strips off his jeans and boxers in one motion. I prop myself up on my elbows, dazed, watching as he fists his cock with his eyes locked on my face.
He’s huge. I mean, I’ve seen it before, but seeing his cock up close like this is even more intimidating. He’s rock hard, the tip flushed and leaking. He notices the look on my face, the corner of his mouth curling in a smirk.
“Still want this?”
I nod mutely, desperate to have him inside me.
He grabs me by the ankles, dragging me to the edge of the bed in one smooth motion.
The platform is just the right height for him to line his cock up with my dripping entrance, but he doesn’t thrust inside.
Instead, he takes his time running his hands over my hips, up my waist, cupping my tits and pinching my nipples until I’m squirming.
Then he finally lines himself up, dragging the broad head of his cock up and down my slit.
“Are you ready?” he rasps.
I nod, barely able to speak.
“Words, Beatrix,” he snaps.
“Yes,” I answer breathlessly.
Elliott starts pushing in slowly, inch by inch, giving me time to adjust. The stretch is insane– so intense that I whimper– but it’s not pain. It’s a desperate, greedy need to have all of him inside me. I arch my back to take more, bucking my hips.
“That’s it,” he coaxes as he slides in a little deeper, his grip digging bruises into my thighs. “You feel so fucking good.”
He bottoms out, hips flush with my ass, and the fullness is almost more than I can take.
He holds there, letting me adjust, then cups my face in both hands and leans down to kiss me.
It’s gentle at first, then rougher, his tongue thrusting deep and desperate.
I kiss him back hard as he starts to move inside me, pulling out halfway before slamming back in.
I scream, but he swallows it, kissing me harder as he thrusts in and out, again and again.
My eyes roll back, hands going slack in the silk tie.
Elliott grabs my wrists and pins them above my head as he pounds into me, keeping his eyes on my face the whole time, like he’s memorizing every reaction.
He’s huge, strong, powerful… and I’m bound, completely at his mercy. All I can do is take it.
A guttural groan rumbles in his chest as he starts hammering into me harder, his thumb finding my clit and rubbing torturous circles around it. I come again almost instantly, body jerking as I unravel beneath him.
He slows, then pulls out, lifting me up as he climbs onto the bed.
Maneuvering me onto his lap, he lines up before lowering me down onto his waiting cock.
I start riding him, using my bound wrists against his chest for leverage, pushing up and rolling my hips.
The angle is insane– I swear I can feel every ridge, every vein, every twitch of his massive dick inside me.
He palms my tits, squeezing hard, then pinches my nipples until I gasp.
“Elliott,” I moan, my head dropping back.
His hand snaps out, fingers closing around my chin and dragging my face down to his. “Call me Eli,” he growls, dark eyes boring into mine.
“Eli,” I pant.
His gaze darkens and he fucks up into me even harder. “That’s it, little mortal. Take your pleasure.”
I buck my hips, meeting him thrust for thrust, riding him for all I’m worth. My clit grinds against his pubic bone, my orgasm building until suddenly I’m clamping down around him, coming so hard my vision whitens.
He lets out a strangled groan, grabs my hips, and slams me down onto his cock as he comes. I feel the heat of him fill me, and it sets off another aftershock orgasm that leaves me gasping and shaking.
When it’s over, we collapse together, my head buried in his shoulder and his arms wrapped tight around me. He doesn’t let go until my breathing evens out and the trembling stops. Then he gently unties my wrists, rubbing the red marks away with careful fingers.
I’m so wrung out that I can barely keep my eyes open, but he cradles me against his chest, holding me like I’m something precious.
“You did so well, Beatrix,” he murmurs, stroking his fingers down the curve of my spine.
“It’s Bex,” I whisper.
Something that sounds suspiciously like a chuckle rumbles through his chest. “I know.”
I don’t remember much after that. Just the soft press of his lips to my forehead, and warmth of him cradling me against his chest as the world slowly fades out.