My eyes slide shut, my tongue loosening as sensations roll over me in waves. I reach down and twist my fingers in Elijah’s hair, guiding him lower. “How long have you been thinking of putting your mouth in places it doesn’t belong?”
“Longer than I should have,” he grits out, pressing his panting open mouth over my naked flesh. Right on top of it, his head bowed. As if praying. “Sometimes when you roll your eyes at me, I want to pin you down and slap it. Lick it.” A stuttered moan sneaks out and Elijah looks up at me with awed hunger. “You’re going to love it, aren’t you?”
Why is he making me wait? I’m so wet it should be illegal. “Yes, Elijah,” I moan, shifting my hips. Until something about his hesitation pierces my need. “Have you…done this?”
Elijah’s gaze flashes to mine. “Not with you. Not with someone who needs it so fucking beautifully.” Strong hands push my thighs farther apart. “Not with someone I want to taste so bad I’d go insane without it.”
My throat tightens. “We can’t have that.”
“No. We can’t. I’m already destroying beds—who knows what I’d do if I lost any more of my mind.” Eyes fastened on me, he slowly drags his tongue through my feminine lips, groaning as he goes. “Oh, fuck. That all for me, sugar?”
I think I scream in response, because there’s no more hesitation from Elijah after that. He’s a man possessed and his sole purpose is searching for the spots that make me gasp—and staying there. God love the man, he stays once he strikes gold. His arm reaches up and bands around my hips and he yanks me closer to his mouth, using the flat of his tongue to treat my clit like a queen. Rubbing, flickering, rubbing.
“Sh-shit. Oh my G-God.” Elijah must have harnessed his tongue’s powers—and mine—for good, because forming sentences is harder than usual. Am I going into shock? “Yes, that. That. Yes.”
He slides two fingers into me and I wince a little because I’m tender from last night. I don’t need gentle, though. I need to lean in to that touch of soreness and beat it—and as if Elijah is reading my mind he starts driving into me with his fingers. Hard. Fast. In this mindbending contrast, he goes light on my clit with his tongue, sucking the bud between his lips and rolling it like a jeweler would handle the Hope Diamond.
My hands fly up and tangle in my own hair, my back coming off the bed in an upside-down U. “You like how I taste, baby?” I moan, apparently regaining the power of speech. “Is it making you need to come when you should be working?”
A guttural growl is my answer as his middle finger hits that spot deep inside me. I suck in a breath and hold it, releasing it in a whimper when my orgasm begins to build. And build and build faster than ever before with Elijah stroking my G-spot and his tongue trapping my clit against his upper lip and dragging side to side slowly.
“Elijah.” My thighs fall open, my pelvis lifting up in a silent beg. “You’re so good, so good. I’m going to ask you for this all the time. Would you like that?”
Glazed eyes and a languid head nod are a resounding yes. His fingers surge deeper still, exploiting that place I’m going to forever associate with this man. He owns it.
“Will I roll my eyes at you for being late coming home…and stomp up the stairs in my littlest skirt? I’d have forgotten panties all day, Elijah. Are you going to let me get away with that?”
It’s hard to tell because his words are muffled by my body, but I think he calls on his maker. I don’t realize my eyes are closed until I open them to the view that sends me sailing past the finish line. It’s that tight, high and thick backside of Elijah’s rolling slowly as he humps the bed. His dress pants are stretched over two hard buns that are more than capable of bursting the seam, especially with his erection testing the slacks in the opposite direction. Bump, bump, bump. His butt muscles bunch and loosen, bunch and loosen. He’s so turned on from going down on me, he’s trying to gratify himself with the mattress. Knowing he’s self-conscious over that gorgeous hunk of ass only serves to make me hotter, because he’s too lost in the act to care that it’s on display. I’ve never seen anything so beautiful in my entire life.
“I’m going to come,” I say on an exhale, my abdomen twisting lower and lower, light burning holes in my sight. “I-I’m going to come—oh God.”
It’s not the sharp, pummeling climax from last night. It’s different and equally brilliant. It passes through me in a devastating ripple, seizing my muscles and taking the breath in my lungs prisoner. I don’t remember when I wrapped my thighs around Elijah’s head, but they’re locked around him now, my whole body shaking like I’m on a vibrating bed in a motel room. When the best/worst of it has passed and laid waste to my senses, Elijah climbs me, one hand busy on his zipper.