Page 27 of The Anchor Holds

The stark contrast of my nakedness and his flannel and jeans only sent my heart racing faster. I could’ve felt small, vulnerable in this situation, yet his eyes on me with a look of complete hunger was empowering.

He kicked off his Birkenstocks. A storm raged in his eyes as his mouth formed a tight line. “Take off my clothes.” My body jolted with shock at the command.

Again, being told what to do should’ve made me feel less than, like I was an object to him, but his magical tone and heatedexpression changed the meaning of the words, my feelings and instincts toward them.

My feet sank into the rug as I crossed the distance between us, fingers going to the edge of his flannel before pulling it off his shoulders and letting it fall to the ground.

Then I grasped the hem of his tee, hoisting it up and over his head, tossing it to the ground. I couldn’t help raking my nails against the muscled and tanned torso in front of me. His abs were cut, each lazily defined with an effortless kind of feel. Not like he honed them in the gym, but as though his body naturally developed each muscle. The tawny hair on his chest was silky, sparse, the trail down his belly button the same.

I smiled as Elliot let out a low hiss of satisfaction, digging my nails in just a little more.

He released another groan of arousal as my fingers deftly worked against his belt, getting on my knees to simultaneously pull down and off his jeans and underwear.

With his hard cock standing at attention, directly in my eyeline, my mouth moistened with desire. He was big. I’d expected him to be. Any man with ‘big dick energy’ had the opposite situation going on below the belt. But considering Elliot’s easy confidence, his sexual aura… I’d been certain he had a perfect dick. Not too big—because as much as men assigned importance to a huge hog, it was not enjoyable to women. And not too small.

No, he had the perfect dick.

Perfect dick… Something I’d previously thought was an oxymoron. But there it was, staring me in the face.

Also, I’d never trulywantedto give a blow job. They called it a job for a reason. The act itself was arousing as part of the whole package of sex, and giving oral usually meant you received it, so I never did it out of the goodness of my heart.

But the urge I had right then, to wrap my lips around his head, was pure need. No expectation. I wanted to make Elliot feel good. He’d done that to me … and then some.

My mouth opened as I leaned forward to do just that when his hand snatched my hair, tugging it back so my chin jutted up.

The pressure Elliot was exerting was enough to send prickles of pain into my scalp, but only enough to center my awareness on every strand of my hair. I locked onto his eyes, hard and powerful on me.

“Did I say you could do that?” he growled, his rough voice sounding nothing like the amiable man I’d met on the dock that sun-drenched day.

“I didn’t think you’d complain,” I replied, not enough snark in my tone to resemble the woman I was on that dock that day either.

Keeping hold of my hair for a second longer, he exerted enough pressure to urge me upward. My body brushed against his as I came almost face-to-face with him. I was shorter without my heels, but I was tall for a woman.

With Elliot’s fist wrapped around my hair, my scalp continued prickling with sensation. “I’m not gonna complain about your mouth around my cock.” He brushed his nose against mine. “I’ll be counting my blessings. But I say when that is. And my cock needs to be milked by that soaking pussy.” His free hand landed on the center of my chest, fingertips grazing my nipples before exerting a not so gentle pressure that sent me backward.

The back of my knees hit my bed, then I fell against the mattress. I let myself be led because of the buzz in my ears, the humming of desire over my own body, and the absolute awe I was overcome with, seeing this version of Elliot emerge.

It was bewildering. Invigorating.

Elliot hovered above me, like a shadow yet like blinding sunshine, even though those two were complete opposites. Because that’s what this man was, sunshine and shadow all in one.

I rested myself on my elbows, taking him in, breathing heavily, deciding whether I was going to protest any of this or not.

“Condom.” The word came from him as an order, not a request.

I’d been staring at his cock, ready for it to fill me up without a second thought. Protection. Unnegotiable, even if the possibility of unplanned pregnancy had been eliminated.

I bristled, realizing that although it was a demand, it was also a question. Elliot had not come prepared to fuck me. There was no ulterior motive for his visit. He didn’t bring a condom, yet he wasn’t going to fuck me without one.

My core pulsated as I gained yet more evidence that Elliot was a noble, respectful man.

My body made to roll to retrieve the condom, but Elliot’s hand on my hip pushed me onto my back. “No. You’re staying right fucking there and I’ll get it.”

My first instinct was to tell him to get fucked and that I’d get it because I didn’t let anyone tell me what to do.

“Bedside table.” I jerked my head, surprising myself by not succumbing to my first instinct.

While Elliot ambled to where I’d nodded, I stared at the ceiling, thinking that condoms—among other things—were what he’d find in there.

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