Grumpy Elf:Have you been good? Only good boys get my cookies.
Chapter Twelve
Kendrick
My heat came in waves, setting me on fire, until the only thing I could focus on was the ache in my hole. The slick running out of me, making the sheets beneath me wet. The endless need that I couldn’t fill, no matter how many fingers I shoved inside myself. No matter how many times I jacked myself off.
It wasn’t enough.
And then there was Balfour.
Ordering me to touch myself over the phone. Ordering me to pretend that my hands were his, my fingers his.
I wanted him.
And when he had bluntly stated he wanted to spend my heat with me, there was no going back.
He was taking forever to get home.Forever.
I thought I remembered him telling me that he was going to get supplies, but I wasn’t sure of anything anymore. Not what time it was, or what day, or even what was real and what was my over active imagination.
Maybe my heat addled mind had imagined Bal calling me. Imagined the phone sex we had had. Where had Bal even been? Surely not the workshop.
That thought, of Bal being in the workshop, in his office, when he had been teasing me with his words, with the sounds of him jacking himself off, made my cock throb with need.
Desire and lust swirled in my belly, like a low buzz that refused to go away.
My hole needed to be filled, clenching and unclenching. Slick ran out of me and I thrashed on the bed. Knees bent, I reached past my balls, sliding three fingers in my aching hole. They went easily. I was sopping wet, and I’d been finger fucking myself for what felt like hours, so I was loose.
My other hand stroked my cock, as I tried to ease the relentless fire inside me that only an alpha knot would put out.
I was so engrossed in touching myself, I didn’t hear the door open, or Bal moving through the cottage. Until the bags he had been holding clattered to the floor, and I blinked my blurry eyes to see him standing in the doorway.
Tall and broad, filling it, his silver hair hanging over his shoulders, his eyes molten fire as he stared at me. As I watched, he yanked at his clothes, ripping seams and popping buttons, until he was gloriously naked and stalking towards the bed.
His cock was thick, long, and standing to attention, bobbing as he moved to where I lay.
My mouth went dry, yet my slick gushed, as I watched him through slitted eyes, moving towards the end of the bed. He knee crawled up it, until he was near my spread legs. Staring at all of me, as I stroked and fucked myself.
His eyes dilated to nothing but black, his tongue coming out to lick his red lips, and one strong hand encircled the wrist of the hand with my fingers stuffed in my hole. The hand on my cock fell away, as I stared at him with lust blown eyes.
Gently, he pulled my fingers from inside me, bringing the slick coated digits up to his mouth. He sucked one, eyes closing as the taste of me hit his tongue, savoring. Then his tongue swirled over the pad of my finger, sucking my finger like I imagined his mouth might feel on my cock.
He did the same to the next finger, and the next, until he had licked up every last drop of my slick. My hips pumped up into the air as he licked me, desperate for friction and something only he could give me.
“You taste like Christmas morning.” He moaned against my lips before capturing them in a bruising kiss, and I tasted myself mingled with him. Peppermint and mocha and spices. Need, desire, and lust.
I wanted to wrap myself around his muscular, long body, until we couldn’t tell where he began and I ended. His tongue left me panting, while his fingers, thick and long, replaced mine in my hole.
I gasped as he filled me, mouthing at the heated skin of his shoulder. Because his fingers were so much better than mine, longer, thicker, more. He plunged them in and out of me, hard and fast and deep, and it was exactly what my body had been craving.
And then he was gone.
Leaving me cold and panting, shivering with need, and whining my anger and frustration.
“Shhh,” his hand slid over my side, my thigh, gentling me. “I’m just getting supplies.”
I couldn’t even comprehend what he was saying or doing. I needed him. Needed his fingers, his mouth, his cock.
