Getaway Girl (Girl 1)

Elijah strains beneath me, a string of epithets leaving his mouth. “Sugar, you’re going to make me come carrying on like that,” he grits out.

I press my lips to his ear and force a little whine into my voice, even though it takes all my concentration. He’s so big. So big and perfect and mine for the night. “But I’m wrapped around that big part of you, just like you wanted.”

“Sink me in deep or shut your little mouth.” He frees his hands, slapping the right one down on my backside, shocking us both. But the flicker of worry in his gaze vanishes when I react like a complete heathen, diving for his lips like they’re the gates of heaven. Oh my God. Oh my God, Elijah just spanked me. I’m so wet between my thighs that I’m dragging myself all over his erection in an attempt to drown in the kiss and grind on his lap at the same time. He’s too tall for me to do both with any success, so I’m reduced to a desperate up and back slide that kicks off a rough rumble in his chest. A warning that trouble is coming, because I’m being a bad girl by not obeying. And when did I lose control of this situation?

His mouth. I can’t accept enough of his tongue, can’t touch enough of it with mine. His hands aren’t being the least bit gentle with my bottom, bruising it with brutal fingers and jerking me up and down on his erection. Every once in a while, he lets go with his right hand to deliver another resounding smack and it makes me increasingly mindless. Racing toward my orgasm and his. “You want the real thing?” he says, giving my backside a sound slap, then taking a fistful of my hair. “Or are you going to play on it all night?”

“Want it. Want it.”

I only feel his hand between us for a second, before the entire swollen length of his manhood rams home, stranding me on the brink of climax, my thighs shaking like leaves. “Elijah. Elijah. Elijah.”

“Addison,” he shudders out, lifting me up with his hips. “Fuck me.”

Those two words remind me of my goal. To praise and torture and make myself a lasting memory for this man. I’ve got him right where I want him and I’m going to ignore the fact that he’s so beloved and beautiful he’s making my chest hurt. I’m going to ignore that and be the best he’s ever had. When he’s pleasuring himself in the shower a decade from now, he’s going to remember the girl who knew his secrets, his needs better than anyone. “You’re so huge,” I manage, riding to the tip of his arousal and lowering myself back to the root with a whimper. “I bet it gets uncomfortable with that big bulge in your shorts, doesn’t it? Poor baby. I bet you need to adjust yourself on camera all the time, but you can’t. You just have to leave it crammed up behind your belt until you get somewhere private.”

I can’t describe the way he’s looking at me, except to say it’s exactly what I’m craving. I’m a blessing, a curse, a mystery and his only means of satisfaction. Sweat rolls down the side of his temple, his hips giving a mean upward thrust. “Final warning, Addison.”

“Let me play,” I lean down to whisper against his mouth. “Just for a while?”

Let it never be said that Elijah Montgomery Du Pont isn’t a gentleman to the core of his being, because he can’t deny my request any more than he could spit on the sidewalk. With his chest rising and falling rapidly, he reaches back and grips the top of the lounge, bracing himself. “Some part of it gets pinched between the crease of my pants and my thigh. Every damn time.” He raises a damp eyebrow at me. “You happy now?”

I love you. I almost blurt it out right then and there. But I press my lips together at the last second and ride him instead. It works to distract me immediately, the insane pressure of him throbbing against my walls. The friction of him leaving me, sinking back in. My nipples trail up and down his chest as I work my hips forward and back, pressing down tight on his sensitive balls and earning myself grateful exhalations of my name. “What would everyone say if they knew…their mayor is so big and thick, it hurts to sit down?” I loosen my hips and bounce-bounce-grind, over and over, until he’s speaking in another language, his knuckles white where he grips the lounge. “You shouldn’t be allowed in polite company with this big thing dangling between your thighs, Elijah. Especially when it gets hard. Shame on you, Captain Du Pont.” I bite down on his nipple, laving it with my tongue. “You better apologize.”