So worth it.
If this is the price of being with a man like Elijah, then fine. I’ll pay it. I’ll just… maybe walk like a newborn deer for the rest of the day.
The sheets are tangled low around his hips, only just covering him, leaving the smooth lines of his stomach exposed. The faint definition of muscle, the steady rise and fall of his breathing as he sleeps.
I take in the small scar along his side, the one from when he had his appendix removed years ago. It's subtle, easy to miss, but I don't. I brush my fingers over it gently, almost reverently.
My touch drifts up his arm slowly, lazily, over the tattoos I spent a very enthusiastic amount of time kissing and licking last night. I can't help the small, private smile that tugs at my mouth at the memory.
His skin is warm beneath my fingertips, inked muscle shifting slightly in his sleep. I trace the lines of the designs absentmindedly, softer now than I was hours ago, when I was clinging to him, riding him, losing myself.
He still hasn't told me what the tattoos mean.
I have a vague idea; little pieces I've stitched together from comments he's made and the argument he and Rose had the other day. But I will never push him.
Elijah doesn't open doors unless he wants to. And for once in my life, I’m patient enough to wait until he's ready to hand me the key himself.
“You're being creepy.”
His voice is rough with sleep, low and husky, sending a warm ripple through me. I glance up at him. His eyes are still closed, but there's a faint smirk tugging at his mouth.
I prop myself up on one elbow. “Correction. I’m not being creepy. I’m just… ogling.”
His tired gaze flicks toward me, which drags me back to the time I teased him for saying the same thing to me before it softens. Then, in a fluid, effortless motion, he pulls me on top of him.
My breasts press against his lightly-haired chest, and I nuzzle into him, inhaling the warmth and faint scent of him.
“And do you like what you see?” Fingers thread through my hair, tugging lightly.
“I really like it,” I reply, pressing a quick kiss to the tip of his nose. “Really good for an old man.”
A sharp sting across my ass from his hand makes me moan, hips digging into him. Of course, I love the mix of pain and pleasure.
He grins, dark and wicked, leaning closer so I can feel the heat radiating off him. “It’s a good thing we have somewhere to be today. Otherwise, I’d have you on your knees, mouth full of my cock, and both your pretty holes stuffed until you forgot your own name.”
I swallow hard at the image, heart racing, because this man—and the way he talks—is absolutely lethal. Dangerous, and entirely irresistible.
His hands land on my ass again, lingering over the spots still tingling from last night's spankings. I can't stop the little shiver that runs through me, half anticipation, half memory, when oneof his fingers drifts lower, teasing over my slick, still throbbing pussy.
“You're wet.”
I writhe against him. “And… very sore,” I admit, heat pooling deeper with every stroke of his finger.
His eyes narrow just a fraction, worry flickering across his features. “Did I hurt you?”
I give him a small smile, caught off guard by how gentle and caring he can be compared to… well, the absolute monster in the bedroom.
“No,” I murmur. “You could never hurt me. I loved everything about last night… honestly, that thing of yours is a bloody weapon.”
Leaning up on his elbows, eyes glinting. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Slowly, he shifts, scooting up the bed until he's propped against the headboard—the same one I swear he nearly shattered last night, taking me from behind.
I can't even begin to count the positions he had me in last night.
“This wasn't a one-time thing, you know.”
Relief floods through me at his words. Elijah isn't the kind of man you can have just once and forget.
