But that disgust, the feeling of absolute horror that persists when anyone else touches me or when I try touching someone else, is entirely absent when it’s her. I don’t even think twice about creating a physical connection, and I never have. Not since the first night we met.
That has to mean something. Even now, with the weight of my dreams and past sitting on my shoulders, tempting me into a spiral of total shame, the only thing I can really focus on is how badly I want this.
Want her.
So when she leans on her knee, sliding it onto the mattress to straddle me, I don’t stop her.
She hums, content, as she settles on my lap, dragging her fingernails down my chest. Her cunt grinds into me as she moves, deftly unbuttoning my shirt. Each release of a buttonfrom its hole feels like she’s plucking at the tendons beneath my skin, making them yield to her touch.
Once she’s finished with all of them, she pushes the shirt aside, leaning in to lick my nipple. The sensitive peak hardens, and she nibbles around it, sending frissons of heat rolling through my abdomen.
Her hand crawls down the center of me, pausing right above the waistband of my pajama pants.
Without warning, she withdraws, climbing off me and then the bed to dart across the room.
My pulse grows uneven. “Elle?”
“Wait a second,” she says, and a moment later, the sound of a match slashing against a striking strip fills the air, and a flame appears where she stands by my dresser.
She lights a few candles, coming around to place them on the nightstand next to the bed, and then waves the flame out.
I grunt as she scrambles back on top of me, pulling me up so she can push my shirt from my shoulders.
“Wanted to see you,” she mutters into my skin, trailing her lips over my collarbone before shoving me back into the mattress.
“Good call.” My hands find her hips, squeezing tight, and then move inward. I skim the tips of my thumbs under the elastic of her panties, just barely resisting the urge to tear them from her.
In the candlelight, she’s exquisite. An ethereal goddess placed on the earth with the sole purpose of driving me mad.
When she shifts, angling her hips so her cunt glides more easily along my length, I suck in a sharp gasp. White-hot need pours into my chest, filling the cavity with its debauched fantasies.
Sitting up straight, she leans over to the nightstand and snatches one of the candles from its perch. As it burns, whitewax drips down the stick, over her fingers—and onto my stomach.
I hiss as the initial scalding sensation ripples through me, instantly cooling as she inches up, tilting the candle to hit another spot. This time, it lands in the center of my chest, and she punctuates the connection with a slow thrust against my fabric-covered cock.
“That feels good, doesn’t it?” she asks in a low, thick voice.
I nod, afraid my restraint might snap if I speak. The muscles in my limbs are taut, pulled to the edge and desperate to be set free.
She holds the candle up as she bends, sliding back toward my knees. With her mouth, she hooks her teeth into my waistband and uses her free hand to help shimmy them down.
That image alone is so erotic that I nearly come from watching.
It’s embarrassing how gone I am for her.
Coming back up, Elle angles the candle above my hips, letting the wax drizzle onto my pelvis. My body arcs off the bed, the heat from the wax lighting my entire body on fire.
A dangerous glint appears in her eyes, nearly eclipsed by the shadows dancing around us. I move fast, snatching the candle from her hands and flipping so she’s lying on her back with me over top of her.
With a sly grin, she wraps her legs around my waist, dragging me against her. Since my pants aren’t pulled up, I can feel just how little material there is between us and how needy she is for me.
She wiggles out of her shirt, her breasts bouncing as she settles flat on her back again, tossing the clothing to the floor. Holding her arms together, she pushes her tits up and out in offering as she flutters her lashes.
Quickly, I shrug out of my clothes.
“Don’t you wanna mark me?” she asks sweetly, softly, so deeply flushed that I feel like I might pass out.
“In so many fucking ways,” I reply, switching the candle out for a new one—this one red. I tip the jar it’s in gently, sucking in air through my teeth when the wax splashes against her smooth, pale skin and she lets out a low moan.
