“Do you want me to fuck you?”
I know I said I wouldn't get naked in here, but all of that flies out of the window. I want him. All of him. Every single, delicious inch. Even if I have to spend future classes completely distracted, imagining what he did to me.
“Yes,” I shift my hips. “Please, Elijah. Fuck me.”
He rubs his finger harder against my covered heat, sending shivers wracking through me.
“Hmm,” he hums. “I don't know if I should make you wait… tie you up at home, and have my way with you all night.”
Honestly, either option would be perfect. But he continues. “Unfortunately… River’s home tonight, so I can’t have you all to myself.”
Disappointment runs through me as I feel the wet fabric shift under his touch, and the Twizzler vanishes, sliding along me in a way that makes me moan, eyes closing at the foreign feeling. The teasing pressure has me wiggling as I feel it slip inside.
“I think you should fuck me now,” I whisper desperately, arching into him, letting my hips guide him as he pumps it in and out.
He makes a low, rumbling sound, then pinches my clit hard enough to make my breath snag in my chest. His fingers tug gently at my piercing, and my leg almost buckles.
But then I watch as he pulls the Twizzler away and slips it into his own mouth.
Oh. Fuck. My Ovaries.
He closes his lips around it and sucks on it, like he's tasting something far more decadent than sugar. His pink tongue drags along it in a slow, sensual slide, eyes locked on mine through themirror like he wants me to watch every single second of what he's doing.
Jealousy blooms inside me.
Ridiculous, irrational jealousy.
I can't believe I’m jealous of a sweet.
Watching him taste me from my favourite sweet is unfairly intoxicating. He looks completely composed while doing something so filthy. The moan that rumbles out of his chest is deep, vibrating through me even though he's not touching me directly anymore.
I want to be a good girl for him. I really do. But the need for him is harder to ignore.
So I drop my leg, turn quickly, ignoring the numbness and catch his wrist before he can pull it away. I lean up on my tiptoes and lick the Twizzler too, dragging my tongue along the same place he just tasted, just as it meets his.
His pupils widened. Darken. Go almost completely black like a night sky with no stars.
“Does it taste better?” I ask, voice thick with heat.
Elijah doesn't answer me.
Instead, he pushes me back until my spine meets the cold surface of the mirror, and the solid frame of the barre presses into my lower back. I’m still gripping his wrist, not willing to let him go.
“See for yourself.”
My brows lift slightly.
“Open.”
He taps lightly at my lips.
I hesitate for only a second, but Elijah beats me to it, unable to wait. His fingers curl under my chin and tilt my head back, controlling the angle.
“Open, Princess,” he repeats with a possessive need.
I obey him.
He leans closer, hovering over my parted mouth, and lets his spit trail downward, dropping onto my tongue. The taste of me is overwhelming, heady, dirty in the best possible way.
