Thankfully, I don’t have to wait long.
Elijah breezes into my place minutes later and finds me in the bedroom, pulling on an old pair of joggers. He pauses in the doorway, his gaze sweeping deliberately over me.
The air shifts—thick, charged.
“What is it that you want, Elijah?” I ask.
“Quiero probar tus labios.”
I tilt my head, not understanding a word.
He steps closer, pupils dark and wide, taking my face in his hands, thumb brushing across my mouth.
“I want to taste your lips,” he murmurs, translating.
I blink, eyes locked on his. “Elijah, I’m scared.”
He leans in, brushing his nose against mine, fingers slipping gently through the sides of my hair.
“Mmm… of me fucking you, or loving you?”
I shiver as he whispers more Spanish across my lips, words I don’t understand but feel all the way to my bones.
Whatever he’s saying, my body responds instinctively. I grab him by the collar and pull him closer.
My fingers fumble with buttons, but patience drains from me like water. Frustrated, I tear the shirt open at the seams, not caring in the slightest that I just destroyed a thousand-dollar dress shirt.
“Elijah, help me,” I say, my voice shaking as much as my hands. Buttons scatter across the floor like spilled secrets. Without missing a beat, he unbuckles his belt and steps out of his pants. His hands find my waist, fingers curling gently as he pulls me into him.
“Eliiijah,” I groan into the space between us, breath tangled with his, as he sinks onto the mattress, and I fall into his waiting arms.
His mouth crashes into mine as I kick off my pants, a shiver rippling through my entire body when his cock rubs over mine.
“Need to stop,” I pant. “Just… give me a second.”
“Nrgh,” he protests, but I silence him by tracing his lips with my tongue.
“Alex…” he mumbles into the kiss, twisting my name into something dirty and delicious. My hips dip between his thighs, and all of my anxiety suddenly comes to a head.
Tension coils tight in my chest, a silent drumbeat pounding beneath my skin. I draw in a slow breath, steadying the tremble I refuse to let show, and start to count—each number a step closer to the inevitable. Elijah’s lips are still on mine, soft and insistent, unaware of the countdown ticking behind my eyes.
Eight. Nine. Ten.
At eleven, I move.
I skip right over the neck sucking and nipple licking and aim straight for his mouthwatering cock. My lips coast down the center of his chest, and I don’t stop until my chin bumps into his thick crown. It’s just as plush and springy as his lips. I reach down and stroke him, painting precum all over my neck and chin, showering in the sounds of his moans.
They’re like molten metal, heavy with heat, branding themselves into every inch of me.
I guide his dick to my lips, stretching them around his flared head and flicking my tongue along its fat ridge. The taste of him is intoxicating, warm, heady, and I want more—so much more.
He punches his hips, sending his cock sailing straight down my throat. I gag, but recover quickly. The weight of his dick lying across my tongue feels fucking amazing. Heavy and thick. Smooth as the inside of my thigh. I swallow around him, and he mumbles in Spanish, husky, but slow and soft, like he’s whispering a secret to my skin. My lips curl into a smile when his Spanish words mingle with moans.
It’s the most erotic sound I’ve ever heard.
“Up here,” he murmurs, pulling out of my mouth and lifting my body up to his.
I meet him with a blistering kiss, letting him lick his musky scent off my lips. The deep sound of his moan, low and lingering, makes my mouth vibrate with a hunger so wild I forget where I am, who I am—only that I need more of him.
