He drives the handle an inch farther. I gasp.
“Liar.”
Always.
His hand lurches again, burying the handle deeper “How many times did he shove your head down and lift your ass into the air?”
“Zero.” I whimper, my body trembling with pleasure.
“I thought so.” He jerks the handle out. “Turn.”
“But Kelt—”
“What about him?” Eli snaps.
I slowly bring my thighs together. “I don’t want him to see this.”
He’s quiet for a beat, as if listening. “He says he won’t look.”
“Really?” Relief filters through my veins.
“No.”
“What the fuck, Eli? What did he say?”
“He says he’s seen all of you already, and you’re impeccable,” he grumbles. “And he’ll try not to pay attention, but you should definitely let me fuck you with my knife.”
I laugh. “He didnotsay that.”
“You really believe he doesn’t want that? He wants what I want, and I’d like to kill him for it, but I can’t change it. And I’m not going to let that stop me from making you come all over this handle.”
He signals for me to turn again, and I obey, flipping around to a kneel. I look over my shoulder at him. “Tell him to go away for a little bit.”
“Down,” he says, motioning with his chin. “You won’t remember who he is by the time we’re done.”
The fact that I can take Eli down with the softest touch, have him writhing at my command is seductive in itself, but nowhere near as much as knowing he can stop me with only a thought, that he can choose my every move, force my body to comply.
“How far?” I ask, attempting a flirtatious tone and failing.
But he gets it.
“All the way.” Blood from my knees disappears down the drain. He takes control of my body, making me lower my head until my cheek smacks down, pressing into the cool metal drain, my hips high, at his mercy.
“Look at that ass.” He runs the handle from the small of my back down my slit.
“You better not be talking to Kelter,” I jest, half serious.
He thrusts the handle into me. I let out a gasping yell at the fullness, the force, the words he didn’t say.
Then he twists, pulling out slightly and pushing back in. My loud moan is lost down the drain. “Eli?” He speeds up in response to my breathlessness. “When will I be able to touch you again?”
He glides in and out, in and out, and I move my hips to match.
He waits until we find a reliable rhythm to respond. “When you learn how to let your darkness out.”
I pull my hair into my fists, groaning at the increasing power of his movements. “I can’t!”
That’s when I hear the slap of skin, the sound of his hand riding up and down his length and smacking into the base. He matches his speed with the in and out of the knife. “Show me how dark that messed-up mind of yours is, little Never.” Heavy breaths break up his words.
