She’d barely even finished the sentence, and I was already ready to beg.
Please show me, baby. Please feed my delusions.
It was true that I didn’t need more images keeping me up at night, but what she was offering was something I didn’t know how to turn down. It didn’t matter that there was an annoying voice in the back of my head telling me this was likely a bad idea. Reminding me that there were things we should talk about, conversations we should really,reallyhave. We’d already said so much tonight, sifted through plenty for one evening. And the reality was, sometimes it was justsomuch fucking easier to talk with our bodies.
Ellie’s eyes were knowing as she parted her knees, letting her legs fall apart to reveal a strip of lace beneath her dress. And even though I could tell the lace was soaked from her wet pussy, and my cock fucking throbbed in my jeans at the sight, irritation overcame all my other emotions.
Because what thehell?
“Why do you keep wearing that lacy shit?”
She smiled, enjoying herself way too goddamn much. “You don’t like it?”
I scowled. “I don’t like that it’s different.” I was well aware that there would inevitably be things about Ellie that had changed, and I was equally aware that I would cherish every version of her. Except this one—this strange version of her thatwore lacy underwear despite always saying it was uncomfortable. “And I don’t understand why you’re wearing something that you used to hate.”
A sigh left her pretty pink lips. “I know you don’t like change, Sawyer, but of all the things, I didn’t think you’d care so much about myunderwear?—”
“Oh, I care very much about your underwear,” I gritted out. “Especially if it’s underwear you bought to wear for someone else.”
Did someone convince her to buy it? Convince her she needed certain lingerie to be sexy? Because this woman could dress like a middle-aged dad mowing the goddamn lawn, and I’d still drop to my fucking knees in front of her, kiss her New Balance shoes and all. And the thought of any man putting ideas in her head that weren’t true pissed me the fuck off. I swear to God?—
“Didn’t we talk about this in the car?” she asked, interrupting my internal rant.
“We didnottalk about your underwear in the car, no.”
Pretty sure I’d remember that.
Ellie tapped a finger on her knee, seemingly debating her next move. All I could do was stare at her, entranced, my heart racing out of control. She wore this crooked grin that drove me up the fucking wall. That made me want to launch myself across the couch and kiss her senseless. That had me balling my hands into fists so I didn’t rip that lacy underwear off her body and tear it into pieces. Again.
I was seconds away from doing just that when Ellie began trailing a fingertip from her knee up her thigh, and then I couldn’t move if I wanted to. I was rooted to this spot on the couch while the woman of my dreams teased her little black sundress up higher and higher, until she was hooking her fingers in the sides of her panties and stripping them off.
I swear to God, she was the only person in the whole goddamn world who knew how to render me speechless.
I had no words. Hardly any thoughts, either. My brain, for once, was silent, ruled by an all-consumingneed.
“You’re right. I don’t usually wear underwear like this,” she said, her voice velvety. Seductive, smooth. Fuck, I wanted to drape it over me, wrap myself in it. “But this lace happens to be soft and stretchy, and I thought these were pretty.” Her panties were between her fingertips now, and she was leaning forward, onto her knees, crawling across the couch toward me. And oh my God, she was going to touch me. She was going to touch me, and I might just blow a load in my pants from the brush of her fingertips on my chest as she stuffed her underwear into the small pocket on the front of my shirt. And then she placed her palm flat on my racing heart, feeling my heaving breaths as she leaned closer, lifting her lips to my ear. “I bought them just before leaving for Boston,” she whispered.
And I was done for.
I’d give her anything she wanted—anything at all.
I turned my head just enough to growl in her ear, “Tell me you bought them for me, and I’ll let you watch me fuck my hand, El.”
A soft little laugh teased my insides. “I bought them for you.”
My pants were unzipped, and my cock was out within seconds.
Ellie pulled back to stare for a long moment, her breaths coming in short pants like maybe she’d forgotten what I’d looked like or perhaps hadn’t realized how hard it would be for her not to wrap her hands around me. Touch me. Stroke me. Because we both knew she fucking loved my cock.
But then she shifted, started to move away, ready to sit back and enjoy her show. Which caused me to act without thinking, catching her by the nape of her neck before she could escape to the other side of the couch, out of reach again.
Her eyes grew wide, heated, watching me curiously.
“Spit on it.” My hand curved around her throat, squeezing lightly, pulling her closer. “Spit on it so I can pretend I’m in your pretty little mouth.”
Our gazes held—a slow, simmering stare that Ellie maintained as she lowered her head toward my throbbing cock, which stood erect in my fist. I was transfixed by her, though, watching how her mouth seemed to work as she prepared to do what I instructed. And then spit dripped from her lips. It coated my cock in slow motion, hitting the head and dribbling down the sides. But that was nothing compared to the little flick of Ellie’s tongue when she licked her lips afterward.
It was so very possible that I might not make it through tonight without combusting.
