“You like that?” he asks, and his voice is low and a bit garbled with spit and traces of my arousal.
“Y-yeah,” I breathe.
He does it again, and I lean back on my own palm, my thighs twitching. The slow, torturous pace he’s keeping is starting to kill me. I want to be slamming into him already.
I want him to cry and scream.
But I also want him to praise me and to demand what he wants from me. It’s such a confusing and lust-soaked contradiction that I don’t know what my next move should be.
Not that I have much of a choice. Not when Elijah is torturing me with his mouth and hands with each passing second.
“Eli, please,” I beg, and he must understand me because his lips tighten around my length, and both hands land on my thighs where they tighten their hold.
He sinks further onto me, choking aggressively as his eyes water and tears begin to fall.
“Wait,” I panic. “Don’t hurt yourself, you don’t have—ugh, fuck!”
Elijah’s nose brushes my skin as he deep throats me. It’s not an elegant, practiced motion; he’s gagging around me as his throat constricts over and over again.
But he is relentless. Alternating between sucking harshly and tracing his tongue over my pulsing shaft, I gasp and whine against the sensations.
Elijah is taking my cock like he’s making a promise. As if he’s repenting, he is trying to swallow me whole and show me exactly what he’s made of. How he was made forme. A perfect fit.
And it is—every ridge and curve of my dick slides so perfectly down the back of his throat that the edges of my vision start to blur.
With each hollow of his cheeks, Elijah is attempting to take my soul from my body—to keep it for himself as if I haven’t already dedicated it solely to him—and some small part of me is startlingly aware that he’s apologizing.
Whether it be for whatever happened on that bridge some lifetime ago, or for leaving me on my own front porch in this one, he is begging me to forgive him with each flick of his tongue.
Only, he does not need my forgiveness. Elijah Oliver Camry will never,everhave a reason to beg.
As his throat squeezes me once more, and my mind reminds me again that I haveElijahon his knees, my restraint snaps.
The hand on the back of his head holds him in place, keeping his nose flush against my skin as he sputters and chokes around me.
“Oh, fuck, angel. Just like that. Oh, god. I’m close,” I pant.
Elijah groans, and halfway through the sound it cuts off into a harsh wheeze. His face has grown incredibly red, and the thought of keeping him here until his eyes roll back and his hands fall limp is so appealing to me that I nearly blow.
But then the reality of that thought sets in, and I release him, watching as he pops off of me in a coughing fit.
“I’m so sorry,” I coo, reaching toward him.
My wet, swollen cock sits abandoned between us as I try to comfort him. Elijah’s hooded, tear-filled eyes look up at me—an intoxicating sight when mixed with his stained, red cheeks and his puffy, parted lips. He pants, licks away a stray string of spit.
“Don’t be,” he says, and his voice isfucked. He sounds absolutely filthy. “If I didn’t want you coming inside of me, I’d have you finish down my throat just like that.”
“Elijah,” I sigh, pulling his lips to mine. When I kiss him, I can taste myself on his tongue. I’m fucking starving.
I fuck into his mouth with my own tongue, slipping in my pointer finger just to feel more of him. He gasps against me, shuffling closer on his knees. After a moment, he pulls away.
“Pull these off.” He tugs at where my sweats and boxers still sit around my thighs.
Once they’re on the ground, Elijah stands, taking in the entire view of me sitting on his bed.
“What?” I ask him, my own chest rising and falling rapidly at the sight of his hard dick straining against the zipper of his jeans.
“I can’t believe I’ve had you inside of me. That’s incredible.” Elijah licks his lips, his hands fumbling with the end of his sweater as he pulls it over his head. Little blond curls bounce in retaliation at the movement.
