I know exactly what I’m doing to him, and I absolutely love it.
His pants are doing nothing to hide how much he's enjoying the view.
“Don’t look then.”
“Impossible not to.”
He's a man obsessed.
“Well, do you want to help instead?” I ask sweetly, glancing over my shoulder with innocent eyes.
He doesn't answer with words.
He's behind me in seconds, his large hands gripping my waist, and his body presses close behind me. His lips travel up my neck, warm breath brushing my skin before he presses a kiss just below my ear.
“Elijah,” I breathe, half warning, half already giving in.
He hums against my skin. “Yeah, princess? You want me to stop?”
I never, ever want him to stop touching me, so I shake my head briefly, and I feel him grinning.
“I think you wearing leotards is my second favourite thing,” he murmurs.
I drag in a shaky breath. “What’s your favourite?”
He nips lightly at the sensitive skin beneath my ear before speaking. “You wearing absolutely—” He drags his tongue along my neck. “Nothing.”
The burn in my leg from the stretch fades into nothing compared to the burning need I feel for him.
“Wait there.”
His warmth disappears from behind me, leaving my stomach tightening in protest, while my leg stays hooked high on the barre, muscles still stretched and trembling slightly from the position. I hear him move behind me, the sound of the plastic bag rustling.
I glance at him. “Are you going to feed me another?”
He steps back into place, his height and presence towering over me. I love the fact that he's so much taller than me; it makes me feel safe and protected.
His blue eyes lock onto mine in the mirror—bright and mischievous.
“No.”
He trails the Twizzler down my arm, watching my reaction.
“I’m going to see if I can make these taste better.”
I try to shift, instinctively chasing his touch, but he reacts instantly. His hand lands on my ass in a sharp, playful slap that makes me gasp and laugh at the same time. His other hand grips the back of my neck.
“I want you to stay right there. Can you do that for me?”
I nod immediately. Too quickly, probably. But I can't help it. I love when he's in control.
“Good girl.”
His voice goes deeper when he says it against my ear, rougher around the edges, and something inside me absolutely melts at the praise. I have the urge to turn in his arms and climb him like a tree, but I don't. I stay put, exactly where he wants me, even though it takes effort not to move.
I feel his hand travel down my spine, making goosebumps run across my skin. He traces the curve of my ass, then dips lower,teasing where I want him the most, even though the leotard keeps me covered.
He knows exactly what he's doing to me.
