Dear Elliot

by P. Stormcrow

  Elliot brought the glass to his lips, drinking where she had. His sensual lips reminded her of the kiss he had given her earlier in the morning, and she bustled about trying to make the drink again.

  Five drinks in later for both of them, some with too much tequila, Emma’s cheeks had become a permanent red.

  “You know”—she spoke with a slight slur—“your writing is pretty good.”

  “I’m sorry I used your last name.” Elliot, in contrast, still looked stone sober. How much tolerance did he have? How much did he usually drink to have built up that tolerance?

  “Why did you do it?” Emma leaned across the bar top and braced her elbows against the hard surface.

  Elliot hesitated, but when Emma kept her eyes on him, he let out a long sigh. “You started it. When we were younger, I wrote the stories for you. Knowing you read them made it worth the work, even for a kid.” He faltered and looked away. “I still imagine you reading them when I write.”

  The last startled her. “I thought you had forgotten me,” she mumbled, tilting her head to the side so he wouldn’t see the hurt. It was like whiplash with him. How is anyone supposed to react when they find out their favorite author is their childhood crush? And that he still writes for them?

  “Never, Emma. Not in a million years.”

  The flames of her temper rekindled, and she snapped her head back. How dare he claim that when he was the one who had stopped messaging? “Then, why?” Emma blurted out at last. The question she had wanted to ask for ten years.

  Elliot flinched. “Because I was a stupid teenager. I got caught up with things. School, parties and yes, girls. Before I knew it, it was too late to write back because I didn’t want to be the target of your anger. By then, I was running from my guilt instead.”

  She stared at him, bewildered. Yeah, kids were careless. But never would she imagine he’d stopped because of his guilt. She reached out to place her hand on his. “Elliot, you know—”

  He shook his head and withdrew his hand, picking up the drink again and downing it. “No, that’s an excuse.”

  Confused by the last three words, Emma froze.

  “I ran because you make me feel things. If you were sad, I was sad. If you were happy, it was like the clouds parted and the sun shone over every little dark nook and cranny in me. I am… I don’t like that kind of control anyone has over me.”

  What is he saying? He was always the calm and collected one, the one who led the conversations, the one who had the uncanny ability to know what she needed and how to bring a smile to her lips. “El?” She had to know. “What about now?”

  The anguish and bittersweetness he looked at her with almost broke Emma. “I’m no good for you, Em. Not now.” He laughed, but the sound was hollow. “I only do one-night stands.”

  The self-deprecating tone grinded at Emma. The Elliot she knew was strong, stoic, not broken like this. “Fine.” She slapped her hands on the table. Later she might regret things, but she could blame it on the alcohol. But with liquid courage running through her veins, she didn’t care. She swung around the bar and walked until she stood in front of it. With one hand, she grabbed his shirt and pulled him toward her. “A one-night stand with me then.”

  And she kissed him.

  Chapter Twelve

  Dear Elliot,

  Sex is like scratching an itch. It’s not something you think about. You just do it.

  You have never had sex with a partner you loved, have you?

  What does it matter? It’s a biological thing.

  Unless the heart comes into play. Then it’s not just sex. It’s the connection. It’s the desire to give, not just to receive. And it’s fucking…mind-blowing.

  This was a bad idea. A very bad idea.

  Except, Emma’s lips were on his and every single misgiving he had fled at her passion. Stunned at first, he remained a passive participant until she let go of his shirt and slid her fingers through his hair.

  Enough was enough. He fisted her hair and pulled her back. Her eyes glazed with lust and he groaned. “Em… I’ve been drinking. You—”

  “I know what I am doing and what I want. I am tired of waiting…of wondering.” She tried to kiss him again, but Elliot rose from his seat, wrapped an arm around her and maneuvered to press her against the bar.

  She widened her eyes in surprise, but he didn’t give her a chance to recover as he slid both hands over the delicious curves of her ass and hoisted her up onto the bar. As she sat, he reclaimed her mouth, pushing himself between her legs before she closed them.

  Emma moaned, and he swallowed the sound whole, finding himself addicted to it. Then she gasped as he slid his hands up the exposed side of her thigh where her nightshirt had ridden up. And he found he liked that too. When she reached for his shirt, he grabbed her hands and held them against the bar on either side of her.

  “Control, eh?” she teased.

  He growled and nipped her neck before leaning away to study her. “Would you?”

  She tilted her head to one side. “Would I what?”

  “Give up control?”

  Emma let out a soft laugh and kissed him on the corner of his lips, like he had earlier, then grinned. “Like safewords and handcuffs?” The last word ended with a small giggle.

  “Like trusting me enough to submit, to do everything as I say.” He lowered his voice as he left one of her hands to return to her thigh, tracing random patterns across the silkiness of her skin. It was a test in addition to the verbal question to see if she would acquiesce and keep her hand in place.

  Humor fled from her face. He could pinpoint the exact moment she realized he was serious by the darkening of her eyes, the almost imperceptible quick inhale of breath. He held his own, uncertain of what her answer would be, but he knew either way, he would relent because his need for her was greater than any kink he might have.

  “Yes. For tonight. I trust you,” she breathed out. But the way her body tightened, and her eyes darted left and right hinted at a sudden bout of nerves.

  He could work with that. Felling smug, he gripped her thighs and spread them just a smidge farther while he darted forward and nipped the shell of her ear. “Good answer,” he whispered and grinned wider when she shivered in his arms.

  Before she could open her mouth to protest, he gave her another kiss, his lips feather-light against hers as he slipped her robe off her shoulders until the thing laid on the bar top in a pool around her. “And if you keep being good, you get a treat.”

  A small laugh spilled from his lips as he watched the mix of indignation and curiosity play over her face. The question hung in the air, but he gave her no chance to ask it as he grip the hem of her oversized T-shirt. “Up.” It was too much fun keeping her off-balance.

  Emma lifted her hips to his delight, and he made quick work of pulling the T-shirt up and over her head. Mesmerized by the sight of her almost-nude body, he tossed the article of clothing over his shoulder.

  “El?” There was shyness now in her voice, something he hadn’t expected, given her confidence and brashness in everything else. But he dotted kisses from her forehead, down the ridge of her nose, to her lips, chin and lower to the hollow of her neck when she tilted her head back, likely on instinct.

  “Beautiful,” he whispered against her skin and traced the curve of her hip, up to her waist, then splayed his fingers over her belly.

  “I—” Emma began.

  “Exquisite,” he interrupted and kissed her between her breasts. When she didn’t speak again, he cupped her right breast and rolled his eyes back to meet hers. With slow purpose, he swept the flat of his tongue against one nipple that had already hardened with exposure to the chilly spring air.

  “Oh shit,” Emma breathed out and gripped on to the edge of the bar top, her knuckles turning white

  Her reaction was everything he hoped for. He kneaded her breast and eased back just to use the tip of his tongue to toy with the nub then drew it into his mouth for a suck. In
return, she tried to squeeze her legs together, but with his body in between, it was impossible, and she could find no relief.

  Elliot switched sides and gave her other breast the same treatment, this time dotting kisses along its fullness and around the areola before he played with her nipple.

  “More,” she whimpered and tried to roll her hips up from the counter.

  “All in good time, Em.” It was a one-night stand. He kept telling himself that he didn’t need the attachment, didn’t need to screw up and hurt her…especially her. Well, he would make this night last. Her floral scent intoxicated him far more than any alcohol in his system, though, and he realized she wasn’t wrong. He also needed more.

  Elliot stared at her dead in the eye again and paused. What he needed, even above the lust that was riding him, was to know she was with him all the way, that he wasn’t pushing her along with something she didn’t want. “I want to taste you.”

  Emma let out an adorable squeak as she met his eyes, her skin flushed red from her chest all the way to her face. He wanted to follow the path, trace the outline of her blush, but other desires overrode it. All she had to do was agree. Oh, how he needed her to agree.

  She nodded.

  A little thrill ran down his spine. Anticipation made his hands shake, but he stilled them with another deep breath. He brushed his lips against her sternum, trailing a path down from her stomach until he ran into the edge of her panties. At last, he took a step away, only to peel off her plain black cotton underwear inch by inch.

  She shaved.

  His cock throbbed in his pants and he let out a long groan at the sight of her exposed pussy. With one finger, he stroked the smooth skin, and she trembled in reaction. So responsive. He lowered his head and inhaled her scent as he dipped the finger lower. “So wet.”

  “Your fault,” Emma countered, and he looked up with a smug smile.

  “If your intention is to stroke my ego, mission accomplished.”

  She probably had some smart comeback, but he didn’t give her a chance. Elliot dove in and licked the length of her slit. Honey. He had never tasted anything sweeter.

  There was no time for buildup. She drove him wild and he ate her like a man possessed. He parted her folds with his tongue and drank in her juices. When she arched her body and filled the air with her moans, he took that as an invitation and dove deeper, only to withdraw and trace upward until he found his prize. Her clit pulsed with heat, and he drew it into his mouth with his own moan of ecstasy. More. Push her more. He flicked his tongue over her nub over and over and, in return, she rewarded him with more of her wetness, her body beginning to tense.

  Elliot pinned her legs down with his elbows while he gripped her hips to steady her as she strained against him. But he didn’t let up, and instead, gently scraped his teeth against her clit.

  Emma exploded, screaming and thrashing like something possessed her. He switched to sucking her clit, keeping his lips tight around her as she came and soaked his face, but he gloried in it as he continued his ministrations. When she began to relax, he plunged two fingers into her and pumped as he kept the same pressure on the sensitive bundle of nerves.

  “Elliot,” she yelled and grabbed his head, trying to push him away at first before pulling him against herself once more. If it were one of his play partners, that would be grounds for punishment. But he cared not in this moment as he drove her higher and higher and she came again, even harder this time. He spared a glance up at her to see her head thrown back, her rocking her hips against him, twitching and squirming in his hold in all her glory.

  It was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen.

  She gasped for breath and whimpered. With a wicked grin, he crooked his fingers into a come-hither motion and found that one spot. Emma’s eyes shot wide open, and she tried to claw at him, but he pressed harder and another orgasm ripped through her body as she bucked and almost slid off the bar top. Her inner walls clamped down on his fingers while her mouth stretched to a soundless O.

  At last, Elliot relented and withdrew his fingers. Emma let go and tried to support herself against the bar with wobbly arms. He watched her as he popped his fingers in his mouth and licked them clean.

  Emma breathed out, and he grinned as he swept his gaze from her now messed-up, wild hair to her flushed body and down to her glistening pussy. On a whim, he leaned down and lapped at her sex only for her to push his head away with weak hands.

  “Please… El…” Her voice was hoarse from screaming—but no less sexy.

  He chuckled and drew back to let her catch her breath. When she looked at him with a steadier gaze, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss on her forehead. “Slide down, Em.”

  The fact she did as he’d told her without a second thought made him even harder, if that were possible. Her legs buckled, however, and she almost crumpled to the floor if not for Elliot catching her.

  It made spinning her around easier. “Brace yourself,” he whispered in her ear and she draped her arms over the surface of the bar. That was when it hit him. Shit, I don’t have a condom.

  “Stay here, and don’t move. Can you do that for me?”

  When Emma nodded, he petted her hair and kissed her head. “Good girl. I’ll be right back.”

  He nearly ran. Almost. But he took the stairs two at a time and tore through his room to retrieve the packet. By the time he neared the bottom of his stairs, he jumped from the fifth stair to the landing. Almost skidding to a stop, he sucked in a breath.

  Emma remained as he had left her—legs parted, braced against the bar and bent over. Everything in him stilled as he studied every delicious curve, every elegant muscle, and he realized she was beyond any fantasies he’d ever had about her.

  “El?” she called out, but he didn’t answer. Instead, he drifted closer until he could place one hand on the small of her back. One day, he would have her bent over on the bed so he could watch the way it arched.

  No, this is a onetime deal. What the hell was he thinking?

  “El?” she asked again.

  “I’m here,” he replied, just as softly. He trailed his hand up her side again and watched the little shiver her body gave. Exquisite. He couldn’t wait any longer and unbuckled his jeans. He tugged it and his boxers down just enough for his cock to spring out. That in itself was almost a relief, and he let out a sigh as he tore the packet and rolled on the condom.

  He touched her again, only to realize that she had dried out a little, perhaps from the nervousness of waiting. “Do you want me to eat you out again?” he asked as he pushed one finger in.

  “I don’t know if I can—”

  He cut her off as he added another finger, reached around her hip with his other hand and returned to toying with her clit. She jumped at the contact but grew wet once more.

  “Mm, maybe I should go back to tasting you,” he murmured, although his cock ached with protest. She moaned and wiggled her ass.

  That was his undoing. With a growl, he wrenched his fingers out and plunged his cock in with one long thrust. She stiffened in surprise, clamping down hard on his cock, and he groaned as pleasure filled his head and fogged his mind.

  “El-Elliot,” she stammered.

  Control. He needed control. But the one thing he both feared and desired had come true. This was the woman who would undo all the discipline he had ever imposed on himself. Elliot had all kinds of intentions to make her wait, to make her beg for his cock, but now that he was in her, all he could think of was to move, to drive them both to heights they would have never achieved on their own. He pulled back and thrust back in. One long stroke. Then another.

  “Oh God. Yes. Yes. Please.” A litany of whispered words spilled from Emma’s lips as he fucked her.

  So tight. So wet. He wanted her. He needed her. Faster. Harder. His mind became a blur, zeroing in on the pleasure from his cock radiating out to his entire body. Her words became nonsensical sounds until she came once more around his cock. He couldn’t hold
back any longer. With a long groan, he pushed one last time deep into her and emptied himself into the condom.

  “Oh. Fuck,” Emma murmured with her eyes closed, then she giggled.

  Elliot laughed but remained still, leaning forward to brush her hair back and out of her eyes. His heart felt lighter than it had in years as an idea came to him. He glanced at the clock. Three a.m. Still a good four hours until sunrise… Go Vancouver spring. “So…it’s technically still night.”

  Beneath him, Emma tensed. “What…do you mean?”

  “Stay.” That was all the warning he gave her as he withdrew and rolled off the condom. Later, he would come clean it up. For now, he dropped it into the small garbage bin, then returned to scoop her up in his arms.

  “Hey,” she protested, but he smirked at her.

  “It’s still night. One night. Meaning, I still get you.” And with that, he carried her upstairs.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Dear Elliot,

  I think I understand a little more about who you’ve become now. But I wish you would tell me what made you this way. I wish you trusted me enough to confide in me like you did when we were kids.

  Maybe one day we’ll get there.

  With love,

  Emma

  “Where are you two going?” Anna asked with a raised eyebrow, sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of tea.

  They had brought Mom home two days before, and though she still had chemotherapy to complete, she was in high spirits—high enough that she had noticed the change in dynamics between the two of them, high enough to make little comments here and there.

  Not that they had slept together since, but things were easier between them and they’d found a new normal together.

  Although sometimes Emma wondered what would happen if they slept together again. But she had promised a one-night stand, and she was sticking to it. It was for the best, even if it had been the best sex she’d ever had in her life.

  “We’re just heading to school,” Elliot answered for her.

  The corner of Anna’s lips tugged into a small teasing smile. “I know Emma has her term project she has to work on, but what’s in it for you on the campus?”