by Maya Rose
“Uh...I need to pop into the washroom real quick and then I’ll come find you?” I say to teenage Channing, with a forced smile.
Nodding, he gives me a charming one in return. “As subtle as Warren is about what he’s trying to do, I’m actually looking forward to properly meeting you.”
I’m not sure how to answer that without a scream in all of their faces, so I choose to smile prettily, before going in the direction of the bathroom.
In the women’s room, I shut myself in one of the stalls, my breaths coming in quick rapid succession. My fingers work the elastic of my band, but as I pull it, I realize there’s none of the dread that accompanies my episodes. I don’t feel like I’m falling or sinking or crumbling. My legs are just fine, and if I wasn’t hearing a couple of women outside washing their hands, I would have freaking kicked the wall or door hard, and yelled loud and clear. I’m not panicking, I’m freaking trigger happy. Who does he think he is? Who the hell does Eli King think he is that he can jerk me around like this? And why am I letting him? Why do I keep waiting for his move, taking as much or as little as he’ll give me? Screw that. I won’t let him. I’m sick of this limbo we’re in. We’re either in or we’re out.
So I get back to the party to look for Eli. And find him necking someone at the bar area. Or maybe she’s necking him, I don’t know. There’s necking, and he’s allowing or participating or both and I’ve seen plenty.
Coming up at his side, I place my hand on his arm, and he turns immediately. “Come with me.” I fling commandingly at him.
His blue eyes drop to puncture the place our hands are connected, before lifting up to spike my pulse again. “No.” It’s final and clipped.
They’re bigger on the inside, I think, those blue orbs. They have to be, for the insane energy they emit. And no? What does he mean no? He’s going to talk to me and that’s freaking that.
“I’m not asking.” I say, and slide my fingers down his arm, coil them around his wrist, and pull him. By now, the brown haired woman wearing a dress barely more substantial than a bikini, has realized something’s calling his attention away. So she leans around him with a bitchy face. Okay, maybe it’s not bitchy and just curious, but whatever. Her eyes widen when she sees that it’s me. “I’m taking him.” I tell her, and tug Eli away from her and the counter, before anyone can say anything.
I keep dragging him, just following my ears and leading him away from the noise, ignoring the people that pass us on the way. They look, but I don’t care about anything other than this man who refused to come with me, but for some reason won’t free himself from my little girl grasp on him. He can easily shake me off, but he won’t. Instead, he’ll let me believe that I’m strong enough to make him follow me. It’s par for the damn course with him.
I pick the first door I find in the deserted part of the hallway. I let his arm go and shut the door once I get him inside. A quick glance around me and I realize it’s a coat room. It’ll have to do. I step closer to him where he stands with his back to the closed door, looking so achingly handsome and dapper in normal people clothes. He’s the reason I’ve opened my eyes every morning for the past three weeks with hope and comfort and anticipation. He’s the reason I’m not in that bathroom stall right now, huddled in a corner, tugging at my band, waiting for the bad shit to pass. And he’s the reason I’m here, fighting for him, and us. Because I want him. God, how I want this man.
“You’re really going to let Warren set me up with some other guy right in front of you?” I demand of him.
“He’s your father.” He answers, eyes steeled, “It’s his right.”
“And you? What about your right?”
“I don’t have any right over you.” He responds effortlessly.
“Bullshit. Is that why you keep saying you won’t let me sleep with anyone else?”
This time I see it. Anguish that I’ve never seen on him before. “Fine. I’ll stop saying it. Do what you want. Sleep with whoever you want.”
“Don’t do that!!”
“Don’t do what?”
“Say things you don’t mean. Say things you don’t want. Say things that make us both suffer!!”
“Then what do I do? Huh?” He lunges forward, face towering over mine, so close that one move and our noses will touch. “What is it that you want me to do, Ariel? Tell me because I don’t know what else to fucking do!!”
The white-hot fury in his expression is unprecedented. I wanted it. That’s how I know that this isn’t just me. This is how I know that I make him as irrational and unbalanced as he makes me. But now, seeing it on him, my heart hurts at the thought that he’s in pain because of me. I want to drive it away, and I know what will.
“FUCK. ME. FUCK. ME!!! I’m yours, you asshole. Yours. Even when you spend the whole evening making me jealous, because you’re too chicken to go after what you really want.”
“And what is it that I really want?” He asks me tightly, and although his breaths are hard and heavy, his gaze agitated, something has eased in the way he looks at me.
I give him honesty, because it’s all I have, and because I know he will listen. “Me. You want me. You want to fuck me. You want to be with me. And I don’t know what your deal is—if your big boy feelings for me are scaring you, or if you’re a noble idiot that thinks you’re too old and jaded for me, or you think we’re not compatible, or if you think I’m going to go after your hotels, or whatever other flimsy excuse you have for acting like a wimpy jerk these past few days, but I’m telling you, freaking do it. Do me. In this coat room, in a bathroom, on the roof, in the middle of that ballroom in front of every woman you touched today wishing it was me, I don’t care where. Strip me, bend me over a table or throw me against a wall or get me on my knees and hands, and be as rough as you want, and take as many times as you want--but for heaven’s sake, take me. Because know this, Mr King, if you let me go now, I’m not coming after you. And one day, I will find someone else who’s not—“
I don’t see him move or whip me around so that my back is against the wall. Feverishly, he pulls down the zip at the side of my dress, but only halfway, only enough to pull the edge of my dress down from my breasts. Then his teeth are pulling one nipple hard, and his thumb and index finger are twisting and tugging at the other.
I arch my back, and glide my fingers through his hair, yanking him closer, pushing my breasts deeper towards and into his mouth. “Tongue. Use your tongue.” My mouth pleads.
“I’ll use what the fuck I want.” He informs me coarsely, opening his mouth and sucking my nipple inside, then rolling his tongue around the pebbled bud without holding back.
I’m soaking wet, his lips on my skin searing hot, my pussy itching for a break from the crippling need. I move one hand down between us, and it stops when it hits his steel like erection on the way. Big, so big. He suddenly tears away from my breasts, his eyes feeding greedily on their nakedness.
“I want to take my time with you. And we don’t have a lot of it before someone comes looking for us or calls us.”
No! I need him now. Any way he will have me. The extended cut can come later. “Eli, I swear, if you--”
“You want my cock?” His tongue sneaks up and out at the corner of his mouth.
Yes, God, yes. But I only nod. Because when we’re doing this and his dirty mouth opens, my own mouth can’t seem to access my brain.
“Then I want you to get down, open your mouth, and fucking claim it.” He grabs my cheek, his fingers tense, eyes horny. “You remember the rules?”
“No means no, stop means stop.” I’m not gonna say either. So I slide down, and pop the top button of his jeans, pulling the zipper down the next second. Impatience and built up tension ever since I’ve met him take over, my desire for him trumping my insecurity about my inexperience. I don’t know what to do. But he knows that, and he still wants this, and that’s sufficient. I pull his jeans and underpants down together--he uses boxers, I tuck away that piece of information in m
y brain. And when his cock springs free, long and fat and dark, and moist at the tip of a bulbous head, and so so hard, I’m speechless. Is there anything about him that isn’t beautiful or huge? He’s going to fill me up so good.
“Rub the tip on your nipple.” He orders me in a voice that’s tightly holding on to restraint. “I want to see my dick grind on your tits.”
Oh shit, why does that turn me on so much? I lift myself up, angling my chest, and without stopping to think for a fraction of a second, I wrap my hand around the base of his cock and rub the turgid tip back and forth on my nipple.
“Fuck. You really want this, don’t you?” I glance up at him, and his eyes are at half-mast, like he’s struggling to keep them open.
Of course I freaking want this. And I love seeing him like this. Taking pleasure from me. So I make the contact harder. I move myself so the mounds of my breasts stroke against him. And when that makes him groan and jerk his hips into me, I hunch my shoulders, press my boobs closer and gather his cock between them. Then I move, up and down, kneading and rolling my breasts around his cock, and I hear a loud smack above me.
I lift my neck up and see his hands on the door behind me, a swab of desperateness running amok on his features as he watches me. I’ve never seen him this undone before. Like he’s about to unleash. Oh. Is he close already?
“That’s it. it. Suck my cock with that sexy mouth, baby girl. Fuck it like you own it. Only you.” He says to me, and only he can transition from plea to command to declaration so seamlessly.
Without fear or hesitation or shame, I lean forward, flicking my tongue out, and collect the beads of moisture from the engorged mushroom tip. My eyes close at the salty sweet flavor of Eli King. Like with everything him, I want more. So I open my mouth wide enough, wrap my lips around the tip, and suck. He’s big, and I’m a realist, but I’m also an optimist. So I go slow, up and down his length, exploring, testing how much of him I can take in without ruining it with a gag reflex.
“Goddamn.” He hisses, panting like he’s the one doing the work, and my mouth curves in a smile around his thick length.
Moans humming at the back of my throat, my tongue savors his taste and texture, smooth but hard, and so damn hot in my mouth. I take care not to use my teeth, as he curses made-up profanities under a husky breath. Every sound and move he makes, adds fire to the oil spill in my veins.
I slide more of him in, and my hand moves to fist his base firmer, harder, while my mouth welcomes him, inch by delicious inch. Never in my life did I think I would enjoy being on my knees for a man, giving him a blowjob. But here I am, reveling in my power to make him shudder and curse and groan, entirely at the mercy of my mouth.
“All of me.” He grunts out, when I meet his burning gaze. “I need you to fucking take all of me, Ariel. Now.”
Him and me both. My ears buzz at full volume, at the sound of my name on his lips. I keep going down the length of his cock, until my nose is nuzzling into skin and wiry hair, and I am bathing in his scent. It’s yummy and wonderful, but it also brings pain, and I withdraw when I feel a cough coming on. Then I do it again, retreating before the point of gagging. And again. This time, when I feel his cock hit the back of my throat, I stay, using my nose to breathe, and my eyes rush up to see the reaction in the blue of his eyes. But they’re closed, his head has fallen back, his mouth parted towards the ceiling, a tormented growl coming from deep within his chest.
“Fuck, yeah.” He exhales slowly, when I start bobbing my mouth up and down his cock, my tongue wetting every spot on that velvet skin, as I fully take him in with every bob. “Lap it up, Ariel. Shit, so good. So fucking good.” When his blue eyes finally deliver a look, they’re blistering and woozy, shook to their depths. “Fuck. If you could look at yourself right now.” He scrapes on labored puffs.
When my hands move to the back of his thighs, gripping them so I can suck him harder, I feel his thumbs rub the corner of my eyes down to my cheeks, wiping the tears that I didn’t know were flowing.
That’s when the realization comes unbidden. He’s not been touching me. At all. I haven’t watched a lot of porn, but even with the amount I have, isn’t he supposed to grab my hair and control the pace, move his hips the way he wants? But he’s not. He’s not fucking me. He’s letting me fuck him. I control what happens. I decide how it happens. Shit, what am I going to do with someone like him?
Make him happy. I’m going to make him happy. Running my hands over his ass eagerly, I remember what he did to me. I want to explore that too. So while I keep sucking his cock from one end to the other, I lightly tug and squeeze at his heavy balls with one hand. Then I gently wiggle a finger into the crack of his ass, my heart thrashing when the pad of my middle finger touches the ring. Then before I can question what the hell I’m doing or whether I can do it right, I press my finger further in past his tight hole, deeper, until all it can feel is his smooth heat. And then a brush of this soft fleshy thing.
He clenches hard around my finger. Then grunts something hoarse and loud and unintelligible, his hips swaying forward, and just like I did, he explodes without warning, shuddering, convulsing, his seed spilling endlessly inside my mouth and down my throat. And I swallow all of it, continuing to lick his head for every last drop.
When his movements settle down, I feel his cock soften in my mouth, still not entirely limp. I would have kept it in my mouth longer, if he hadn’t pulled me to my feet, and wedged me against the wall.
He pulls my bottom lip between his teeth, and his hand shifts the front of my dress to the side from where the slit starts. It goes still when he touches what I have underneath that dress. Letting my lips go, he bows his head down, just looking at what his hand and eyes have discovered.
He glances up, glazed, but angry for some reason, hair disheveled, sweat shining on his upper lip. “What the fuck did she do to you?”
“You don’t like it?” I ask him, suddenly tense.
“You tell me.” He says bitingly. “Should I like it that you’re trying to fucking kill me?”
A giggle flies out of my mouth at his enraged, tortured expression. It just seems to make him more irate. It’s sexy on him. Everything’s sexy on him. And then he steals that laughter away, when he pushes the barely-there crotch of the panties aside, spreading my pussy folds while at it, and directly rubs his cock over the slick opening.
My poor clit doesn’t know what hit it. No, it does, but it’s hotter and filthier and better than I ever thought.
“Eli--shit...wait…” I try to tell him to slow down when that is the last thing I want, but the sensation is overwhelming, and I’m a pathetic muddle of need and lust.
“No time.” He barks, and leads his cock just so slightly but precisely past my folds, only brushing it against my clit over and over. Sinking his teeth into the skin of my shoulder, he rumbles in his velvet voice, “Do it for me now, princess. Come.”
I incinerate, hurtling over the edge. My mouth opens to let out a painfully satisfied scream, but I never hear it. He mashes his lips onto mine, hard and hot, while I quiver and shake in his arms, realizing that I’m coming on his cock, my body wringing every inch inside for cream at the thought of marking him. I keep shuddering, and he keeps kissing me, his tongue unabashedly searching for and tangling with mine, as the pleasure builds, then peaks, and then ebbs.
When I come down, and stop shaking, he gives me a final bruising hard kiss, before drawing back.
His blue eyes probe mine, intense and steadfast, like they’re scavenging for something essential for sustenance. “Say it again.”
My capacity to remember the last few seconds is shot right now, let alone what happened or what I said before that. “What?”
“That you’re mine.”
My face warms, but my tongue cherishes the words. “I’m yours.”
He swallows, his Adam’s apple moving slowly, his expression stoic, as he processes my confession. In an ideal world, he would say it back. But I learnt a long time a
go, that my world isn’t ideal. Maybe I am like my mother. Who gives a shit when the payoff is Eli? So I’m not expecting anything back. I don’t want him to say it unless he means it and is ready to say it. And I don’t know if he is, or if he ever will be, but this is the one thing I won’t ever push him for.
But by now, I should know that nothing about Eli is what it seems like on the surface.
His face breaks into a beatific smile that can clear clouds and form rainbows and make birds sing. Lifting a tendril of my hair, he wraps it around his finger, before saying, “And I’m all fucking yours, princess.”
Chapter 17
Eli
◆◆◆
Her gaze strings over me, glowing and heated, but also oddly unsure. I did that to her. Misery, agony, desire, passion, bliss--everything on her face today--I gave it to her.
It’s been killing me. In the house, when she hums Imagine Dragons while cooking. Eats peanut butter directly out of the jar. Interrupts me for a water break when I get engrossed in work for too long. Talks to the cleaning ladies who show up every couple of days about their families. Asks Xavier if he would like a coffee before he leaves when he delivers something. Calls the nursing home almost every day to check after the woman who never loved her. Asks for money, to help out the woman who worked with her in that club. Listens hypnotized when I talk about logistics and supply chain. Now this party. No woman should have the right to look like that. What was God thinking? And she’s goddamn stellar at dealing with people. Cuts them off with a sweet smile when they ramble on for too long. Tolerates all kinds of ludicrous questions about designer labels and imported goods when I know all she wants to do is scoff. Cleverly diverts questions that go too close to her past. Not for a second did I see her faltering or fucking up. The only reason I sent her with Selena was so we don’t cause gossip after already causing a mini scandal at that nursing home. But although she might not know it, I have been paying attention. And it’s. Killing. Me. The look-don’t-touch. Keeping her at a safe distance. Because there’s no such fucking thing. She has infiltrated my thoughts and there isn’t a damn thing I can do about it.
