As we move to the beat, Elliot’s grip slips lower, and he rolls his eyes as he squeezes my ass.
“Please, Ashbourne. I couldn’t afford you.”
“Oh, come on, Cross. High-born brat like you? I’m sure you can come up with something.”
His smile broadens, and his soft green eyes light up as he barely contains his laughter.
“Oh, nowI’mthe brat?”
He spins me around, pressing my ass into his jeans, and I don’t argue when his fingers spread across my stomach.
Elliot and I have been doing this for a while now, almost since the day we met. And I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t developed a taste for him over the years. While he may be lewd at times, he isn’t overbearing. He never takes without asking, and when he does ask, he only asks once.
And despite his teasing, no matter how far we go, he never mistakes this for anything more than what it is.
“You hungry?” he asks, grazing my ear with the metal stud in his lip.
He has me trapped against his chest, grinding my ass into his growing erection, and I nod as my hunger claws at my insides.
“Always,” I whisper.
I twist in his arms, pulling him down to meet me as I press my lips to his neck, eliciting a heavy growl.
“Wait, baby. Not here.”
He pulls away, but I shake my head, reaching my hands beneath his shirt and dragging my nails across his back. He shudders at my touch, gripping my hips a little tighter.
“Oh, fuck,” he grunts. “You must be starving.”
Yes. I am.
I can feel the emptiness preparing to swallow me as we stand here, swaying to the music. But that’s not why I can’t let go of him.
There’s something else lurking in the pit of my stomach, a gnawing craving I’m not familiar with.
It tastes warm in my mouth, like red wine on the back of my tongue or like honey dripping down my throat.
I close my eyes as it settles in my chest, making it hard to breathe, and when I blink them open, my vision telescopes and my world tilts until all I can see is smooth, midnight skin, long, coarse locs, and a wide, round nose set between eyes of the purest peridot.
Elliot.
“Yes?”
His voice startles me, closer than I anticipated, but the rosy tint to my vision begins to clear as I focus on his face.
“You’re beautiful,” I mutter.
He lifts a single pierced brow.
“Who are you, and what have you done with Iris Ashbourne?” he asks, his glittering canines framed by thick, dark lips as he laughs.
I wonder what it would feel like to kiss them.
“Ha. You’re more than welcome to find out.”
What? Did I say that out loud?
“Yes, you did,” Elliot answers, frowning. “Are you ok…”
