“Gonna come,” he says breathlessly, his dick swelling in my mouth and his balls contracting. Popping off his cock, I wrap a hand around him and pump, rolling his balls in my other hand as his legs start to shake and his knees lock tight.
“Motherfucker,” he growls, yanking my hair taut so my head snaps back and my eyes clash with his. He thrusts into my hand as his orgasm tears through him, hot cum spilling from his cock and painting my tits, my stomach, my neck, as I stroke him through it. The look in his eyes is feral, the noises he makes utterly obscene.
When he’s finally finished coming, he drops to his knees, slamming his mouth to mine and kissing me deeply. He wraps his arms around my waist and takes us both to the floor, covering my body with his and making a mess of both of us.
“You look gorgeous covered in my cum,” he murmurs, trailing his lips over my jaw and down my neck. When his eyes meet mine, his pupils are blown wide, lust swimming in the dark orbs.
With our gazes locked, Elliot laps at my breasts, unbothered by the fact that my entire torso is covered in his release, and it's inferno levels of hot. He moves down my body, licking up his cum as he goes. Curling his fingers in the waistband of my leggings, he tears them off me and dips his head, shoving my legs further apart and spearing his tongue into me, his thumb coming down to circle my clit as I cry out, bucking my hips up against his face.
Elliot never stops and he never slows. He eats me like he’s been starving for days, and I moan up at the ceiling, gripping his hair as if it’s my last tether to this earth. And I think it might be. Because when he wraps his lips around my clit and sucks, pushing two fingers inside me roughly and curling them against my front wall, I come so hard I practically levitate.
“Oh, my godddd,” I groan, the pleasure so intense I think I might not survive it. And then I think I really do die because before I’m finished coming, Elliot is hovering over me, pushing my knees up to my chest to open me wide and thrusting inside me in one long stroke that takes my breath away.
“Fuck!” I scream, every muscle in my body pulling taut at the intrusion, my head spinning as Elliot slides his hands under my back to grip my shoulders, grinding deep, hitting me right where I need him. I don’t know if it’s a new orgasm or the remains of the first, but whatever it is, I never, ever want it to stop.
“You’re perfect,” he rasps, rolling his hips. “We’re perfect. And we taste fucking amazing together.” Elliot brings his mouth to mine in a fierce kiss, pushing his tongue into my mouth to feed me our joint releases. The taste of us together and the way he moves above me, into me, gripping my shoulders for leverage to thrust harder, grind deeper, has my second orgasm coiling in my belly, wrapping around my spine, ready to take me under.
“I’m so close,” I moan out, snaking my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck, lifting my hips to meet his powerful thrusts.
We’re sticky and sweaty and the way our bodies sound slapping together should be illegal. It’s dirty and filthy and so fucking sexy I am no longer of this earth. I have never, ever felt anything like this.
“Come for me, baby. Come all over my dick. Choke it with your tight, perfect pussy and make it yours. It’s only ever going to be yours.”
Elliot angles his hips, hitting a spot deep inside me that has the pleasure snapping, my orgasm slamming into me so fast and so hard that my vision blanks out and I hear a scream that it takes a minute for me to realize is mine. All I feel is the crashing wave of pleasure and the vibration of Elliot’s groan against my neck as he floods my pussy with his cum, his body shaking and his hips jerking and his fingers digging into my shoulders so intensely there’s no way he won’t leave marks.
I hope he does.
When the pleasure finally subsides, Elliot pulls out of me gently, rolling us so we’re on our sides, his arms wrapped around me and his lips pressed to my forehead in a kiss so tender it has tears pricking my eyes, even as my chest heaves with exertion, my heart pounds, and my body still hums with the aftershocks of an orgasm so intense I’m positive it rearranged my cells. Changed the core of me.
“Pretty girl,” he murmurs against my skin, one hand stroking my back and the other sliding down my stomach to swipe through my slit, using two fingers to gather the cum seeping out of me and gently push it back inside in an act of possession that has my heart knocking against my ribs. “My girl.” He drops his head and takes my mouth in a long, slow kiss that feels like worship. “Amelia.” My name on his lips, a prayer.
And when he stands and lifts me into his arms, carrying me upstairs and into my shower where he washes my hair and my body and brings our mouths together in slow, drugging kisses and whispers words soaked in emotion, I take the final fall, surrendering to us, this, everything.
And with his arms wrapped around me and the water cascading over us, I know with a certainty buried deep in my bones that there is nowhere in the world I would rather be than right here, with him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
ELLIOT
“Holy fucking shit, Amelia,” I say, awe and no small amount of disbelief in my voice as I glance around her home office.
Spread over the entire top floor of her townhouse, it’s a huge space with high ceilings, a massive desk set up with at least six monitors on one wall, purple-painted, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves along another packed with what looks like hundreds of romance and true crime novels and assorted knickknacks.
There’s a big squashy chair, a basket on the floor piled with soft-looking blankets, a small, retro-looking fridge, a decorative iron shelf with snacks, candy, and an assortment of mugs, and a floor lamp shaped like a woman’s leg, complete with fishnets, high heels, and a shade shaped like a miniskirt.
“You like?” She grins at me and fuck, she looks edible. She’s leaning against the doorframe watching me in her space. Wearing my button down that hits her mid-thigh, her face bareand her hair damp from the shower we shared, she looks both cozy and sexy, a wildly appealing combination.
“I love it. I mean, your whole house is amazing, but up here? This looks exactly like you.” And it does. Tech, romance, and whimsy. All the different sides of this fascinating woman will never stop amazing me.
She walks towards me and winds her arms around my waist, smiling up at me when I wrap an arm around her shoulders and pull her closer. “It’s my favorite place. A few years ago, when I told Gabe I was transferring to the Boston GenTech office so I could take the chief software engineer position, he had a little trouble adjusting. I lived on campus when I was at Berkeley, but I was still close to home. My leaving for Boston coincided with Liv leaving for college in D.C., and Gabe spent, like, three months carrying on about his empty nest. Then he went all papa bear on me and suddenly decided that what he needed was an investment property in Beacon Hill and was all,oh Amelia, you might as well live in the townhouse since it’s just sitting there.” She rolls her eyes good-naturedly, and I laugh, bending to kiss her forehead. “As if I couldn’t see straight through him. Beacon Hill is a little…high society for my taste, but it made him happy.”
I glance around the space again. “I think it’s worth it for this office alone.”
Her gaze follows mine. “I know, right? Gabe didn’t care what I did with the place, and I definitely didn’t need six bedrooms, so I knocked out all the walls up here to do this. It’s no Back Bay brownstone full of brothers, but it works for me.” Her voice is a little wistful and I have to staunch the little kernel of hope that a Back Bay brownstone full of brothers is exactly where she would like to end up. “Come see what I figured out.”
She takes my hand and leads me to the far wall behind her desk, and the second I see what she has here, I suck in a breath, my eyes widening. I was too busy focusing on everything else topay attention to this, but now that I’m standing in front of it, I can’t tear my gaze away.
The entire wall is covered in enlarged images of Henry’s postcards with certain words highlighted and circled. There are maps, typewritten lists, and pictures taped up in an organized sort of chaos. And interspersed among everything else are sheets of lined paper covered in Amelia’s neat handwriting, each page written in a different color of what looks like marker.
