I stop moving and gape at him.
His lips curve into a grin, and there’s that ferocity, the quirk of his eyebrow, the spark of control in his dark eyes.
“I know you’re sensitive right now,” he whispers, feeding me the words.
I thrash, not really wanting to escape; my body reacts to that word,sensitive. He pushes at the tendon in my neck with his thumb and I moan.
“I know that was a lot of personal shit you never expected to have to share with me.”
Another whine, another helpless buck of my hips, but he clamps his thighs around mine and keeps us from rubbing against each other.
“It makes us even now, though, yeah?” His voice roughens, deepens, his own vulnerability flaring up.
His mom at her care facility. Me, seeing behind his curtain.
Elethior’s giving me a lifeline, and usually, I’d grab it.
But I don’t think I need this lifeline. Not as much as I should.
My eyes go half-lidded. “Yeah,” I manage. “We’re even.”
He grins, viciously pleased. “I’ll help you forget, I promise. I’ll fuck you so good you won’t remember your own name beyond me calling youbaby. But I can do that and still respect you, so look into my eyes and tell me you want my mouth on your cock.”
I’m a mess.
We’re still clothed, and I’m a mess.
Whining, writhing, fingers futilely pulling at his wrist where he’s holding my neck.
“Elethior—”
“Say it.” He holds my gaze with the same intensity he holds my neck.
Fuck him. Fuck himso much—and in any other situation, I’d refuse. He doesn’t get to tell me what to do.
But he’s bent over my body, barely touching me; my pulse is thundering under his fingertips andI need him.
“Please,” I break down. “Please suck me. Just—touch me orsomething,Elethior,please.”
His expression goes reverent, not like I babbled incoherent pleas, but like I spouted off some epic sonnet.
“The way you beg,” he groans and thrusts his body back onto mine, grinding our fully clothed dicks together, and I don’t care about anything else. Nothing exists outside of us, a wholly new spell we’ve created where all interplanar life ceases to function because the sensation of his body on mine shames everything else out of reality.
He kisses me, and I trill in the back of my throat, an onslaught of relief from the ecstasy of hips and mouths and movement. His lips trail down my neck again, he shoves my crop top up to climb the peaks and descend the valleys of my chest.
He pops the button on my jeans. I arch my back and his fingers hook in the waistband.
“Fuck,” he growls before my jeans are even pulled down.
I try to get up on my elbows, really I do. I cannot be in this much of a jellylike state yet, it’s embarrassing. But all I manage is to lift my head and look down at him, and he’s got his eyes shut, his shoulders bowed forward.
“What?” I pant. “What’s—”
“You’re not wearing anything under your jeans.”
I grin. “You thought I was? You saw how tight they were, right?”
“Oh, I saw.” His eyes flip open and pin me in place with ardor.There,that’s what I want; destroy me with a look, take me apart piece by piece, leave nothing behind.
