"I'll flip you over and fuck you so hard you forget your own name."
Heat surges through me at the words. But I shake my head.
"Not yet. Tonight, I'm in charge."
I return my attention to his chest. His right nipple gets the same treatment as the left, my tongue swirling, my teeth grazing. He writhes beneath me, hands flexing on my hips, clearly fighting the urge to take control.
But he doesn't. He lets me explore, lets me set the pace, gives me exactly what I asked for.
I work my way lower. Kissing down the center of his stomach, feeling the muscles clench and release under my lips. The trail of dark hair below his navel leads me where I want to go.
I palm him through his pants. Feel the thick length of him straining against the fabric.
"Off," I say. "Take these off."
He obeys instantly, lifting his hips so I can drag the pants down his legs. His cock springs free, flushed dark and already leaking at the tip.
I wrap my hand around him.
He groans, low and deep. His head falls back against the pillows.
"Your hands," he manages. "I thought about your hands. When you were gone. Couldn't stop thinking about them."
"What did you think about?"
"This." He thrusts into my grip, fucking my fist with shallow strokes. "Exactly this. Your fingers wrapped around me."
I stroke him slowly, relearning his shape. He's thick, heavy in my palm, the skin silky over iron hardness. A bead of precum wells at the slit, and I swipe my thumb through it, spreading the slickness down his shaft.
"More," he says. "Please."
I've never heard him say please before. The word does something to me, lights a fire in my belly that demands I give him everything he wants.
I lower my head and take him into my mouth.
The taste of him explodes across my tongue.
Salt and musk and something darker, something essentially him. I moan around his cock, the vibration making him jerk and curse.
"Fuck. Fuck, Elliot, your mouth—"
I take him deeper. Relax my throat the way I learned to do, push past the initial resistance until my nose brushes the coarse hairat his base. I hold there for a moment, letting him feel the tight heat of my throat, then pull back slowly, dragging my lips up his length.
His hands tangle in my hair. Not pushing, not controlling. Just holding on.
I set a rhythm. Down and up, tongue working the underside of his shaft, hollowing my cheeks on each upstroke. I cup his balls with one hand, rolling them gently, feeling them draw up tight against his body.
"Elliot." His voice is wrecked. "If you don't stop, I'm going to come."
I pull off with a wet pop. Look up at him through my lashes.
"Not yet," I say. "I want you inside me when you come."
He makes a sound that's almost a growl. In one swift motion, he sits up, pulls my shirt over my head, and hauls me into his lap.
"Then stop teasing," he says against my mouth, "and ride me."
The lube is in the nightstand drawer.
