“Stand. Right now,” he orders.
Something akin to fear ignites in my stomach and begins to spread into my chest, but before I can speak again, Elijah pushes me back until I’m plopping down to sit back on the edge of his bed.
Then, it’shimwho is falling to his knees between my legs. He’s panting again as he yanks my sweats down, and I lift my hips as both them and my boxers are pulled to my lower thighs.
Elijah nearly gasps at the sight of my half-hard cock. Wide hazel eyes trace the length of me, one hand moving to run up and under my shirt. A second later, he’s pulling it over my head and throwing it haphazardly behind himself.
“Jesus,” he mutters, tracing the lines of my abs with his fingertips.
“You really don’t have to,” I tell him, and he shakes his head.
“I want to.”
With his other hand, Elijah grabs me at my base, and I use every ounce of self-control I possess to keep my ass planted to the mattress.
I was right. His warm, soft palms feel completely different from my own, and I find the feeling absolutely intoxicating.
He grips me loosely and gives me a slow tug from root to tip, the friction of his dry skin just barely muted by how smooth and warm it is.
His thumb takes a moment to brush gently over my slit, pushing into it lightly. I hiss at the sensation, hardening further, and Elijah watches me greedily from where he sits below me.
Then he’s removing his hand from my body and spitting on it generously. I watch a string of his own saliva as it connects from his bottom lip to his palm, and I find that I can’t breathe around the visual.
Far before he makes me come from sensation alone, I fear I’ll come from the sight of him.
Elijah’s hand wraps around me once more, wet and hot as he jerks me slowly. He wets my entire length in several passes, and my hands clench at his comforter to keep myself from touching him.
He’s in such a fragile state right now that I’m scared of startling him with any sudden movements.
I’d give anything for this not to end.
“You are so fucking hot, Rowan,” Elijah murmurs, seemingly entranced by his own maneuvers. My cock jumps beneath his hold, and he grins, looking up to gauge my reaction.
Those big hazel eyes watching me from beneath little golden curls heighten the heat swirling inside of me, and I hear a soft whine as it escapes my throat.
I don’t even have the gall to feel embarrassed about it—I’m too caught up in him.
I watch in real time as he slowly lowers his head, and my eyes widen as his tongue flicks out to lap over my tip once, and then twice.
“Eli,” I groan, my hand shooting out to intertwine with the hair on the back of his head. He hums, pulling my cockhead into his mouth with one clean suck. “Fuck.”
He’s in no rush. Each movement is slow and deliberate, as if he’s memorizing me; as if he’s learning the taste and the shape of me one slow lick at a time.
And as I watch him slowly sink further onto me, an unbearable affection builds in my chest. One so bright and devastating that tears prick at my eyes and my breath escapes in stuttered releases.
Once he’s taken as much of me as he can without choking, he brings his hand back into the picture and grips my base again, massaging the rest of me.
I’m not really areceivingkind of guy. In every instance before Elijah, I’ve enjoyed being the giver more than being on this side of things. And in most ways, that still holds true, even with him.
But right now, as I watch his eyes flutter shut and his spit spill from between his lips, I realize that Idolike receiving.
The only difference is that it must be him.
To put it simply: no one else can do the things that he can do. No one else can make me feel this way. Elijah has a way about him that no other man does—he is able to bring my body to heights that it’s never reached before. All from his mouth and hands alone.
I doubt it has anything to do with skill—though he does possess that—but has everything to do withwhohe is. He is just that special. He means that much.
Elijah’s tongue rubs generously at the spot just below my head, underneath my shaft, and it effectively mutes all of my thoughts. I choke on a moan, my fingers tightening their hold. He pops off of me.
