He blows a cool gust of air over my wet center.
I lose it. “Pussy! Okay? I want your beautiful mouth on me.Please.Or I swear I’ll end up sitting on your face and taking it for myself. Are you happy now?”
Wind swirls around us. A low growl of approval is all I get before he locks his mouth over my slit, then licks upward, long and slow. Then speaks. “I love how your pussy needs me.”
I whimper and roll my hips into him. The thoroughness of the way his tongue finds every nerve has my legs tingling. It’s not a ravishing assault, nothing frantic or rushed about it. It’s tortuously slow and delicious. And sopping wet. He peeks up at me, his chin rubbing my clit with the tilt of his head, then returns to his drawn-out devouring.
I stare down at him, his nose against me, his tongue between my legs, slipping all around as if he wanted to taste every bit of me, moaning deep in his throat. His eyes are still pure mayhem, a mess of colors crashing about his irises. It’s a beautiful sight. I can’t take it. The intensity. The pleasure. I want to push him away, but my arms are useless, my wrists sore from how tightly they’re bound by his command.
I pull my hips away, but he grabs my ass and slams me back against his mouth, continuing his wet exploration with renewed force and a long moan. He opens my legs wider and flicks his tongue against my entrance, then presses it inside. And pulls out, then in again, fucking me with his tongue and humming into me. The soft vibration damn near kills me.
“I can’t. I need—don’t ever stop.” I swivel my body around, trying to free my arms. But he has all the control. I’m at the mercy of his strength, his invisible hold, his tongue. Everything tightens. But I don’t want to come yet. I don’t want it to be over. To go back to problems. To a link that might as well be broken. To a realm that wants me dead. To a god I’m supposed to kill. Why can’t I stay in this moment? With his mouth on me?
The temperature drops with my influx of worry. But even with all those thoughts stalking my mind, I can’t hold back forever. Especially not when he shoves two fingers inside me. When he twists them like that. Not when his mouth is everywhere. His tongue and lips find every last patch of sensitive skin. I don’t know how to be quiet, how to control my breaths, hownotto rock into him and light the night with indigo stars.
I thrust my hips forward, and he finally releases my arms. I crash both hands onto his head and hold him tight against me. He wiggles his fingers, another leisurely attack of pleasure, his tongue still lapping at my swollen lips. The wet smack of his mouth releasing and capturing me over and over and his soft groans do me in.
And as hard as I try to stop it, as much as I want to get lost in this moment until the end of time, tension knots low in my belly. Warmth extends to my hands and feet, and I can’t fight the urgency. I roll his head from side to side, my fingers caught in his mussed-up curls. My hips jerk into his face, slamming against him, no semblance of control.
Buthemaintains it. The lazy licks. The curling of his fingers. Even with all my thrashing. Only his volume changes, his groans louder, longer.
Until I let go, tightening and pulsing around him in rhythmic waves, heat exploding from the contact of his mouth and outward. Straight into my chest. Pleasure burns through me. The trees flash white, one after another.
I lose strength in my legs, but he wraps his arm around my waist and holds me up, refusing to release me until the last jerk of my hips. He slides his fingers out slowly and rides them up toward my clit. I try to close my legs on him at the sensation. His other hand grabs a fistful of my ass cheek and squeezes, then he pulls away, admiring his work before licking the newly escaped wetness from each of my thighs. Then his fingers. Then either side of my raw lips. And straight up my center.
Even my brain is hot. I can’t feel my legs at all.
He pulls himself from his pants, a primal hunger in his whirling eyes. He tugs me downward, my knees bending until I’m right over his lap. And as if waiting a single second longer would be his end, he slides me down on top of him, filling me slowly, ensuring every inch gets to enjoy the entrance, the lingering pulsing of my walls like tiny hugs all the way down. And his moan speaks for him. I swear if there were any way to kill this man, it’d be with pleasure.
But now, face to face, his intensity is inescapable. He grabs my arms with his actual hands and forces them behind my back, his touch rough, the squeeze of my wrists painful. And when he lets me go, I’m trapped by his control over me. He lifts my hips up and down, hard, but unhurried, every slide down his length like a long inhale of teva, unwinding my body, fogging my mind. But even the slow fuck can’t clearhishead. Nothing could, I imagine.
His hold on my hips is bruising, irresistable—because I’m the one he holds on to, the one he won’t let go. Death lurks in his eyes… and life, blending with the pain and pleasure. He’s black and white. Light and dark. And everything in between. And stuck, stuck in a nightmare all by himself—yet never alone. But he feels more solid than anything I’ve tried to hold on to, sturdier, safer.
He breathes heavily now, moving me up and down in that slow rhythm with more force in every slam down, yet controlled. Then he rolls me onto my back and follows, leaning over me and reinserting himself with a deep strike. My fists dig into my back, my wrists still bound, controlled by him.
I arch my back and cry out, not from the poke of branches or the indentation of stones on my back, not from my own knuckles, but from the depth he reaches, the aching pleasure of it. The ground rolls in waves beneath us, adding to the rhythm.
He lifts my shirt roughly, taking me in with glassy, lust-drunk eyes. Even now, he doesn’t speed up, doesn’t rush his plunge into rapture.
I glance down at my chest, my exposed impression. “This doesn’t matter,” I whisper. “Not between us.”
He falls over me, lips a breath away. Curls hanging freely. He stays like that, taking me deep, his hips rolling with the earth, hot breath on my face. Every in and out puts pressure in all the right places, and all Ican manage is to lie here and take it, the intimacy. Even though it’s not allowed. This isn’t love.
Then he kisses me. And somehow I have to balance the ecstasy of his expert tongue with the filling sensation of him inside me, gliding along nerves that rouse every cell in my body to burst with bliss. He pulls my wrists closer together, smashing the bones into one another, tightening the invisible cuffs as if he wants to make sure I’ll never slip free.
The kiss must last forever because I lose track of time. It could be going backward for all I know. And the sweeping of his tongue against mine lasts all the way through his loss of control, his groans transforming into demanding grunts, all lost in my mouth. And only then does he drive into me faster, his strength savage, his kiss violent. He doesn’t even free my lips when his whole body goes rigid, when he pounds into me with spastic thrusts, when the ground cracks open, not when his own yell is muffled by our kiss. Then he collapses on top of me, smashing me beneath his heaving chest.
And when he rolls off me and turns his head to the side, eyes on mine, the death is gone, the threat. They’re dark brown again, sucking me in.
Purple puffs of smoke linger in the air. We lie on our backs in the woods, dressed again and side by side, my treasures safely stowed. Another vision subsides. It’s one of those rare nights that rain doesn’t endlessly pour down, as if it finally accepted a break. I take my final toke on the teva roll, savoring it, then pass it back to Eli. His fingers brush mine. He inhales the last of the roll and holds it for unreasonably long before he lets out a deep, slow purple breath that disperses into the foliage above us. I pat the necklace now back on my chest in a slow beat.
I don’t know what triggered the turmoil I saw in Eli’s eyes or why nature seems to have bound itself to my emotions, but the teva allows me to hold onto the thoughts without spiraling, to calmly accept that if I don’t learn to control it, I’ll be the disaster I’m trying to avoid. I attempt to understand how Eli was willing to give up teva forever simply because I wanted to save the Hollows from the effect of the elixir, from death.But I can’t comprehend it, not when everything points to him doing it purely for me. I let my mind pass through the days, dragging up details and letting them go again. Except one.
“What did the note say?”
“What note?”
I rest my hand on top of his between us. “The one you were holding when I woke up in Milo’s room, the one Kelter saw. He said it was cruel.”
