“Elise, I—”
She covers my mouth with her hand.
There’s no thought involved as I wrap my arms around her and pull her to my chest.
“You’re so beautiful,” I whisper in her ear. “So fresh, so desirable. It’s absurd you should be begging me for sex.” I kiss the top of her head and tighten my embrace. She puts her arms around my waist, pressing the full length of her body to me. I stroke her back and her neck. I plunge my fingers into her hair. Her heart quickens against mine.
She looks up at me. “Admit it, you want it as much as I do.”
I hang my head in defeat.
She cups my cheek. “Then don’t make me beg.”
Grabbing her ass, I press her into me, letting her feel my erection through the layers of clothing. “You don’t need to beg.”
THEO
We step into her room, and Elise shuts the door. She doesn’t take eyes off me as she removes her coat and scarf. I take off my coat and pull her into my arms.
With my chin resting on the top of her head, I breathe in the scent of her hair. She buries her face in the crook of my chest and throat. Her lips brush my skin.
I stroke her gently. My intention is to go slow and spend some time just snuggling. But within seconds, I’m sporting wood. Suddenly, there’s only one thing on my mind, one worthwhile pursuit in the world, and one purpose to my existence.
Fuck. Slow.Seeing her press herself against my groin, I’m sure she won’t mind if I skip ahead.
I settle my hand on her tummy and slide it down until I’m cupping her between her legs. She stands on tiptoe and bears down against my palm. Hooking my fingers, I rub her right through her pants. Her breathing grows shaky. Soon, she’s whimpering as she grinds her hips, leaning on me.
I growl. I want her too much, I want her now, I want her naked.
“No-o,” she complains at my retreating touch.
I scoop her up and dart toward the bed where I set her back down on her feet. An impatient thrill coursing through me, I grab my sweater with both hands and yank it off. The tee-shirt follows. Elise removes hers. We kick off our shoes and tear the socks off. Her hands shaking, she unzips her pants and shimmies out of them. I place the packet of condoms I bought five minutes ago on the nightstand and unbuckle my belt. The jeans come off at the same time as the underwear.
Standing in front of each other, we spend a brief moment just looking.
She ogles the scars on my front, and my jutting cock, as if mesmerized. I take in her pert breasts, taut belly, and her perfectly toned body. The next thing I know my hands are all over her, stroking, stripping.
Crazed with lust, I fling her on the bed. She lands on it with a tiny bounce. I scoot to her side.
She cups my face, her touch gentle, and offers her lips for a kiss.
I kiss her forehead.
“Please,” she says, “I want to taste your lips.”
“No.”
“Why would you deny me that?”
“Why would you insist?”
“Because I want it.” She frowns with incomprehension. “I want to kiss you.”
Her words trigger something in me, and the question I’ve been itching to ask comes out, “What’s wrong with you, Elise?”
Her frown deepens. “What do you mean?”
“Does my facial omelet turn you on? Are you fascinated by everything ugly? Or is it some ‘Beauty and the Beast’ fantasy where you expect a metamorphosis after the kiss?”
