I move that finger to her clit. Circle it, slowly and firmly. Just once.
Her fingernails bite into my shoulders. Her tits brush against my chest as she breathes. Rapid, uneven breaths.
“Okay,” she says, her eyes fluttering shut.
“Nu-huh.” I press my finger against her clit. “Come on, baby, you gotta look at me when you say it.”
Breath catching, Olivia opens her eyes. They’re wet.
She is wet everywhere, she’s as desperate for me as I am for her, and I love it.
I move my other hand to the small of her back. Trail my fingertips gently up the furrow of her spine. She curls a little closer into my body. Looks up at me. Vulnerable and warm.
I have to take a breath. My heart’s gonna burst.
“Yes,” she says steadily. “Yes, Eli.”
I guide her mouth to mine, tilting my head so I can get a good taste of her sweetness. Wine and Olivia.
I want her to trust me with her story the way she trusts me with her body.
I want that more than anything.
Olivia opens her eyes, eyelashes tangling with mine. The naked faith I see there—hell, I’m a goner.
“Touch me like you said you would. I can’t—God, Eli, I can’t take it when your hands aren’t on me.”
I don’t need to be told twice.
I dip my finger all the way inside her pussy this time. She arches against me, and I take the opportunity to unhook her bra with the hand I have on her back.
Looking down, I take in her nakedness. Her tits are gorgeous, full and round, her nipples pink and puffy and hard.
My clothes suddenly feel twelve sizes too small.
Pressing a kiss to her neck, I pull back.
“Make yourself comfortable,” I say, nodding at the bed before I tug my shirt off. “I’m gonna go grab some condoms from my bag, okay? I think I left it in the truck.”
“Okay.”
Half a minute later, I’m back in the bedroom, condoms in one hand, my belt buckle in the other. I toss the condoms onto the nightstand.
I freeze when I see Olivia on my side of the bed. She’s pulled back the covers and is lying in the crisp white sheets, head on a pillow, hand between her legs. Her fingers move slowly over her pussy. Her knee falls off to the side, spreading her wide open so I can see her. Pink and slick.
Perfect.
Her eyes lock on mine. She bites her lip, back arching when she hits her clit.
“I’m sorry,” she pants. “I was dying without you. Had to.”
My cock jerks.
Yankee girl is in my bed. Playing with herself. Because she’s dying for me.
“Oh yeah?” I rip off my belt and jeans. “Tell me where you like it. Tell me how you want me to make you feel.”
Olivia lifts her leg to her chest, spreading herself even wider. She runs the pads of her first two fingers over her clit.
“I like it here. And here.” One of those fingers disappears inside her cunt. “I like it at the same time. Sometimes here, too.” Her pinkie taps once against the pucker of her asshole.
I tear at my boxers like a man possessed.
Her other hand moves to her breast. Her back arches again when she thumbs her nipple. Eyes fluttering shut, she breathes, “Eli, I’m—oh, I’m close.”
“Don’t you fuckin’ dare come without me,” I bite out. “That orgasm is mine.”
Her eyes open. They are so blue I get lost in them. My whole being goes still.
“Then come here,” she says. “I need you.”
Damn fucking right you do.
I tear the covers aside and climb on top of her, pulling her hand from between her legs. Gathering both her wrists in my hand, I guide them above her head, resting my weight on my opposite elbow. I lean a little weight into her. Just enough so that our bodies fit perfectly together. Skin on skin on skin. She’s breathing hard, eyes at once teasing and vulnerable.
My dick bobs between us, head sliding against the hot skin of her groin.
For a second I fantasize about making love to her bare. The ultimate act of trust. I’d hook her leg over my shoulder and kiss her hard and work my cock against her pussy before finding her entrance and burying myself inside. Raw. Baby making style.
Soon, maybe. But not yet. Even in my lust-addled state, I know that’s too big of an ask for Olivia right now.
Especially the baby making part. Where the hell had that come from?
I shake the thought from my head. I blame it on the temporary insanity I’m experiencing thanks to Miss Olivia Gates. If that’s even her real name.
I don’t even know her real name.
But I’ll be damned if I don’t get to know her in other ways tonight.
With her hands trapped in mine above her head, she’s at my mercy. I work my mouth down her throat, her chest. I take her nipple in my teeth. I keep going down until I kiss her belly one last time. Then I urge her legs apart with my hips and, moving between them, settle back onto my haunches.
Dropping her hands, I grab her thighs and pull her roughly towards me. She gasps; I grin.
I reach for her breast. Curl my fingers around it. Play with her nipple.
With my other hand, I reach between her legs. Using my thumb, I gently part her folds and meet her eyes. Her dark hair is spread in a wild halo around her head. Her cheeks are red.
“You are beautiful,” I murmur, rolling my thumb once, twice, against her clit, like I’m working the dial on one of those old-fashioned locks—the ones where you have to roll a series of numbers in place to unlock it. “And I’m gonna make you come.”
Olivia moans. Her hips rise to meet my gentle strokes. I pinch her nipple, and her legs start to shake.
“So quick?” I say, equal parts smug and astonished.
She nods, her eyes catching on my dick. They darken. “For you? Yes.”
I give her tit a firm squeeze. “All right, baby. Come for me, then.”
I keep working her clit with my thumb. I bring my other hand down, and sink two fingers into her pussy. I thrust them once, twice. Three times. Her walls flutter around me.
And then Olivia explodes. She fists around me, arching her back and crying out as the orgasm cracks through her. Pulse after hot pulse milks my fingers. She reaches for me, saying my name, and I can only watch in wonder, my dick throbbing, as she rolls against me, riding out the wave.
I’m gripped by the need to be inside her. To make this moment—this orgasm—truly my own. I wanna hold her. Be as close to her as humanly possible while I still have her with me.
I could climb over her right now and take my pleasure all night long. And she’d still be the one who’d end up taking.
She’d still be the one I want to give everything to.
The fingers of my right hand still inside her, I reach across her body with my left and grab a condom.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Olivia
“Yes,” I manage as I watch Eli tear open the foil packet with his teeth. “Eli, please.”
I’m boneless. Body still pulsing with the aftershocks of the orgasm to end all orgasms. I can only lie here helplessly, back sinking into the soft mattress, and watch and salivate and burn as this huge, gorgeous man rolls on a condom.
His dick is just as gorgeous as the rest of him. Smooth, pink skin. Pointing straight up. Proud. Perfectly made, if a little intimidating.
I notice Eli’s hands shake a little. Takes him a try or two to get the condom all the way on.
He’s nervous? For me?
The thought turns my insides to mush. I’m gripped by the fervent desire to be with this man for real.
For keeps. Could I really make a life with him in it—a life in Charleston, where I’m a writer—work? I’m not sure I’m capable of that.
But please, oh, please, in this moment, just let me imagine that I am.
Let me dwell in the sweetness of possibility.
He looks up, meeting my eyes. His darken. More brown than gree
n tonight. They trail heatedly over my body. My nipples prick to renewed life. I feel so sexy when he looks at me like this. Like he’s been starving for me all his life.
With a grunt, he leans down and kisses my mouth. I rise into his caress, spreading my legs wider. I love it when he puts his weight on me. Love the hot, slightly breathless feeling of being surrounded by him.
His skin is a little slick. Sweat.
He runs a hand down my side. Catches my leg and hikes it over his hip. Melting his body into mine, I whimper when I feel his latex-covered tip prodding my entrance. The pressure is already enormous. My pussy throbs with a new awareness of him.
A new sense of anticipation.
“Jesus, baby,” he murmurs against my mouth. “I can still feel you comin’.”
I nod, too overwhelmed to open my eyes. I just loop my arms around his neck and hold him close.
He buries his face in my neck. Heaven.
“Let me return the favor,” I say, canting my hips so he slips inside me a little.
He hisses, the muscles in his neck and upper back flexing against my fingertips.
“Olivia,” he half whispers, half warns. “If you do that—I can’t control—I’m tryin’ to go slow here, sweetheart. I don’t wanna hurt you.”
“You won’t.”
“You’re so small,” he says.
“And you’re so perfect. Please.” I cant my hips again. He’s halfway inside me now, and it hurts. In the best way. “I’ll tell you if it’s too much. I want you to give me everything you’ve got, Eli.”
He sucks in a breath. He’s not convinced.
So I brush my lips against his. Open my eyes. He must sense me doing it, because he opens his, too.
Please, I plead with my gaze. Please please please.
Eli nudges my nose with his. Tender and sweet.
His eyes never leaving mine, he slowly draws back his hips.
And then he surges inside me, one long, swift, devastating stroke that buries him to the hilt inside me. I cry out. Pain and pleasure rip through me in equal parts.
There is nothing tender about this.
But it is still very, very sweet.
Eli pauses. Just for a second. Waiting for me to say it hurts. That it’s too intense, he’s too big. I’m too scared.
All of those things are true.
I still want more. I want to drink my fill of him. Want to know the kind of exquisite pleasure I’ve read about in my romance novels.
He searches my eyes.
More, I say with mine.
And that’s what he gives me.
He thrusts, his body working above me in these delicious, masculine dips. Again and again and again. Filling me. Stretching me out. It hurts, but I drink it in. I try to be aware of everything. The woodsy-smoky scent of his skin. The feeling of sharp-edged satisfaction between my legs.
The way my heart seems to have dissolved into my skin. My entire being throbs in time to its beat.
Eli watches me the whole time. Brow furrowed with concentration. Concern, too. He takes note of my every movement. When I bite my lip after he swivels his hips—the angle made him hit my clit—he does it again, aiming for the same spot. When he thrusts into me especially deep and my body goes still, he reaches up and cups my breasts, one at a time, toying with the nipples and sending a new rush of liquid heat to my pussy so he glides in and out a little more smoothly.
It’s not even attention. It’s adoration.
I love how loved it makes me feel. Like I’m complete. Confident in my body’s ability to meet his challenge.
Like I’m worthy of experiencing such urgent, overwhelming sensuality.
I have to close my eyes.
He captures my mouth with his. His strokes speed up to a punishing rhythm, our bodies slamming together. He’s losing himself in me.
I feel something inside me tear. Come apart.
I hook my feet at the small of his back. Urge him closer.
“So good,” he growls, his breath hot on my lips. “See how good it feels when you let me in?”
Tears press like hot thumbs against the backs of my eyelids.
I nod. It does feel good.
He swivels his hips against me one last time. Slams into me, hard.
Eli sputters, then goes still, his enormous body heavy on mine. His cock pulses inside me as he comes. I feel his abs working against my belly. He’s struggling to catch his breath.
I open my eyes to see him looking at me. His are molten. Soft.
My heart hiccups.
Looking away, I press a kiss to his neck. But then he’s using his nose to urge me back to center.
This guy’s relentless.
He leans down and kisses my mouth. A slow, hot kiss that has me arching underneath him. I can’t get enough of this man’s kisses. He’s unapologetically sensual and thorough in everything he does.
Pulling back, he looks me in the eye. Understanding passes between us. That was good. Better than it was supposed to be for a first time.
Better than it’s ever been for me.
I feel like I’ve been branded. I am different now. Changed in some irreversible way.
Can I ever settle for safe after experiencing how good wild feels?
I draw a trembling breath.
“It’s okay, baby,” Eli whispers, kissing me again. “You’re gonna be okay.”
I cling to him.
“I don’t know,” I whisper back.
He looks at me. “I do.”
“Please stay,” I say, drawing him closer with my legs. “Just for a minute.”
Eli melts into my body, bracketing my head with his elbows. “Like I could ever leave you right now. Olivia, you’re shakin’ like a leaf.”
I can’t get a hold of my heartbeat. My face is on fire, and so is my pussy. I feel like I just lost my virginity all over again. Only this time I’m hurt because the sex was so good.
So, so good.
Eli holds me. Surrounds me. I listen as his breath evens out. Deep inhales. Deep exhales. Like he did in class that day at the yoga studio, he’s trying to calm me down. I mirror his movements, breathing in, breathing out.
It helps.
Eventually I do calm down.
“I’m gonna go get cleaned up real quick,” he whispers, brushing his lips against my forehead. “Okay?”
I nod.
We both wince when Eli pulls out of me. Lifting himself onto one elbow, he reaches between us to grab the condom. His hair falls into my eyes when he looks down.
He goes still. A muscle connecting his shoulder and collarbone pops against the tattoo of the bird there. He rolls off of me.
“Are you on your period?” he asks.
“What?” I ask, stiffening. “No. Why?”
“You’re fucking bleeding, that’s why.” He looks up at me, nostrils flaring with anger. Shit. “Jesus Christ, Olivia, why didn’t you tell me I was hurting you?”
He holds up the condom, streaked with blood.
My face goes up in flames again.
Oh my God, I actually tore. That wasn’t just me imagining my heart being rent in two.
I made Eli hurt me.
With him looking at me like this—accusingly, angrily—I feel so vulnerable. So embarrassed.
What is wrong with me, wanting to be fucked like that?
Wanting to get so carried away I end up bleeding?
“I’m sorry,” I say, closing my legs. “Did I get it on the bed?”
He looks at me. After half a heartbeat, he tsks, spearing a hand through his hair. His expression softens. Propping himself on his elbow, he bends his neck and kisses my mouth. My temple.
“C’mon, Olivia, that’s not what I’m mad about. I’m mad I hurt you.” He puts his hand between my knees. Sits up. “Let me see, sweetheart.”
“I can handle it.”
“Olivia. Let me see.”
Swallowing, I let my knees fall apart. My entire being burns as he checks me out, hazel eyes c
loudy with concern.
“Does this hurt? And be honest,” Eli says, gently—very gently—pressing his fingertip to my entrance. It stings.
“Yes,” I say.
“God damn it,” he bites out. “Stay put. I’m gonna go get some stuff to clean you up and make you feel better.”
“I can—”
“Olivia, stay put. Please. Let me take care of you, all right? I feel terrible enough as it is.”
I go still at the raw anguish in his voice. Eli’s upset. Which upsets me. I just had the best sex of my life with this man. I don’t want this to ruin all the exquisite things I felt in his arms.
My stomach clenches. I need to explain myself.
I need to tell him who I really am.
A minute or two later, he comes back from the bathroom with a warm washcloth and a bottle of ibuprofen.
“I am so sorry,” he says, pressing the washcloth between my legs. His touch is achingly tender. “I hate that I did this. Rough is not usually my style.”
It’s not usually mine either. But tonight, it just felt…right.
I just need to wring every drop of passion out of these nights with Elijah Jackson. I don’t know how many I’ll have. I’m not going back to Ted, but I still have to go back to my job. My students. My life.
I grab his wrist. Trail my thumb over the smooth skin inside it. “Don’t be sorry. This is what I wanted. I loved every minute of it.”
His eyes flicker with something I can’t place when he looks at me.
“Why’d you want me do that to you?” he asks softly.
I blink. Look away. Then I sit up and close my legs. Glancing at the sheets, I’m relieved to see I didn’t get any blood on them.
Swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, it’s my turn to wince. I’m already sore. And still so wet I feel like I’m swimming in it.
Behind me, I hear the jangle of pills in a bottle.
“Take these.” Eli drops two pills into my palm.
I put them in my mouth and press up to my feet.
“Let me get cleaned up,” I say, swiping my dress off the floor. “Then we’ll talk.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Southern Charmer Page 17
