The taste of him is so insanely vibrant it’s as if it’s screaming at me. Something in my chesthurts. It’s begging to be heard and to be touched, but I’m not sure what it’s saying. What it wants.
I think I need to touch him more to fully understand.
My fingers trace Elijah’s thighs of their own accord, my lips dragging over the length of him. He smells so good. So fucking good I could die right here.
I’d do anything—in this moment, I am realizing that I would do just about anything to stay here with him. If it kept himwithin my line of sight, under the weight of my hands… I think I’d commit a crime.
“Elijah,” I groan, burying my face into his hip. “Let me blow you. Let me taste you some more.” I’m begging him. There is no hiding my tone of voice, my desperation.
“Suck it.” He's grinning as he says it.
I wrap my lips around him, sucking greedily at his tip. I want more of him on my tongue. I want more of his skin, his arousal, his smell. Everything—I want it all.
I feel like I’m going crazy. Fucking delirious. And every time my flesh makes contact with his, something inside of me notches higher, and I have the urge to sob like a child.
I hollow my cheeks and take him deeper, enjoying the weight of him as I choke, my nose brushing the small patch of blond hair on his pubic bone.
Elijah is vocal above me—alternating between deep, throaty groans and high-pitched whines.
Lifting my hand, I take his balls in my palm and roll them gently, tugging just slightly when he bucks against me.
“Fuck! I’m gonna—stop! Stop, Rowan, or I’m gonna come,” Elijah rambles.
Reluctantly, I pull off of him. He’s staring down at me with an expression I cannot read; one that appears to be a cross between pain, panic, and admiration. Maybe even enough desperation to match my own.
But I’ve never been great at reading people, and I’m afraid of assuming.
So instead, I take to leaving wet kisses against his thighs and stomach. This I know, this I am certain of. That I would rather die than take my hands off of him.
In fact, I want to be closer. I want to feel more of him. I want to beinside of him. And I think Elijah wants that too, if the way he’s trembling beneath my mouth is proof enough.
Standing, I take his hips in my hands again and guide him backwards until he falls onto the bed, urging him further onto it.
Because I am a meticulous person, I keep lube in my bedside drawer for my own late-night activities, as well as condoms for when I don’t want to have a mess to clean up. But for now, I grab only the lube and settle myself between Elijah’s legs.
Except, as soon as my eyes fall to where he lies, all the air is sucked out of me.
Knees bent, golden hair spread out around his head, his smooth chest rising and falling deeply. Those big eyes stare up at me in anticipation and fear, his thighs trembling.
I want to rip him to shreds. I want to touch him so gently until he’s begging for release.
“Oh, angel,” I whisper, but it comes out breathy and awed. Elijah whimpers quietly, brows furrowing. “You look incredible. So perfect like this.”
And he does. He really, really does. I want to give him everything I have. I want to keep him for myself. There is an intense fear growing inside of me that is demanding I never let him leave this bed, as he won’t come back to it. I’ll never lay eyes on him again.
“Rowan, please, touch me,” Elijah pleads, reaching out a hand to touch my stomach. It’s a soft touch, and it sets me on fire. Sofucking hot. And the way his fingers flex and twitch against me, I know he feels it too.
Elijah pulls his knees in tighter and I pour some of the lube onto my fingers, and then some straight onto him, letting it fall right on his waiting hole. With his knees bent how they are, I can see him perfectly. Smooth and pink and so perfectly made for me.
I rub gently over it, warming it to my touch. His body spasms for a moment before relaxing against me. And once I’ve rubbed until he’s stopped clenching so desperately, I begin the slow push past that tight ring of muscle.
“Hngh,” Elijah groans, head turned away from me. I lean forward, dropping soft kisses against his shin.
His insides are burning me up. So soft and tight and hot that I could explode right this second, before my finger ever fully enters him.
I am not a virgin. I have topped several men in my life. Butnothinghas been like this. Nothing has ever felt so all-consuming, so overwhelming. I’ve never felt that if I don’t get inside of him soon, I might very well implode.
And when I do get inside of him, when I connect us in that way, some part of my body is thrumming with the knowledge that something revolutionary is going to happen.
