Page 74 of The Rest is History
Iput a lot on Elodie last night.
The anxiety attack.
Telling her I was in love with her, in as many words.
But also telling her I refused to consider a future for us. A dick move that could have seen her walk straight back out my front door, ending us before we’d even begun.
Christ, she must think I’m a total bastard or a complete basket case. A grown man who has no idea what he wants or how to communicate.
And she’d be right on the latter, because the unshakeable foundations of truth I’ve built for myself these past few years feel decidedly rocky.
And my Jenga tower?
It’s a pile of rubble at my feet.
What I know to be true in theory is so at odds with how I feel when I’m with her. And how I seem to make her feel, too. I know I can’t physically give her what she wants in the long run, but by staying away from her I destroy us both.
It’s hard to care about the long term when she’s lying beside me, curled into me, breathing softly. And holy fuck is her body warm and soft and tempting. My dick is very keen for her towake up, but the rest of me is content to lie here a little longer, marvelling that the woman who fills my dreams is in my bed.
My desperate hands, and a few hours of sleep, have left her dark hair delightfully dishevelled. Her lips are slightly parted, rosy as fuck and possibly a little swollen from our kissing. All that decadent kissing.
I could kiss her for days. Weeks. Years. Drown in her taste.
Christ. I want to give this woman everything. I want to devote my life to keeping her beautiful smile alive, tending to it as if it’s a precious flame I can’t let flicker, let alone die out. She’s only one person on this giant planet, but if I could do that—make her happy every day—I’d die knowing I’d achieved something pure and true.
My hand moves of its own accord and gathers up a heavy coil of hair, brushing it over her shoulder and off her face. She stirs, her eyes flicker open, and she takes me in. Smiles a lazy, feline smile.
‘Hi,’ she whispers, and my heart lightens to see she hasn’t woken up despising me.
‘Hi, beautiful.’ I hook an arm around her waist and pull her on top of me. I need her weight on me. Her hair blanketing us. Shutting out the outside world for as long as we can manage.
She sniggers into my neck and follows it with a kiss. ‘You seem happy to see me this morning.’
‘All of me is deliriously happy to wake up with you.’ I smooth a hand down her back as my cock twitches between us. ‘And some parts of me have expectations, but don’t let that bother you.’
‘Some parts of me have expectations, too.’ She’s pulling herself up onto her knees while her face stays buried in my neck, andhooooolyfuck. She slides a warm hand around my painfully hard cock before swiping its tip between her legs.
Yep, it seems some parts of her areveryexpectant. And wet for me. I suck in a harsh breath through my teeth, willing myself to hang the hell on. But the chances of not disgracing myself diminish by the second as Elodie pulls herself up and straddles me, hooking a hand through her hair and dragging it over one shoulder.
What a sight.
It should win awards, and yet I hope to God no one ever sees it but me. However unlikely that is.
Elodie is straddling me, her face soft and her smile mischievous. Her hair looks just-fucked. And that glorious body is on full view, one perfect breast partially hidden by her hair. She’s spectacular. And best of all, my dick is disappearing between her legs as I watch, her hand guiding it. She swipes it through her wet centre again, and we both groan.
I run a hand up her thigh, sliding around her ass as far as I can reach, and focus on the sensation of her wet folds engulfing me as she lowers herself down inch by inch. My body appears to have forgotten that it had three stupendous orgasms last night, because my need for her this morning is so great it takes my breath away.
‘Oh my God,’ she says, wiggling her hips as she sits down heavily on me. ‘I really, really love your dick.’
I shudder out a laugh through the agonising pleasure of having bottomed out in her. ‘That makes me incredibly happy. Feel free to avail yourself of it as often as you want.’
She reaches behind her, and I ogle the perfect arch of her body.
‘And’—she cups my balls and massages them softly, diminishing my chances of covering myself in glory further—‘Is it weird to say I love your balls? They feel so full for me.’
Pain lances through me. Years of heartache and guilt. Fuck, if only Elodie knew what Adeline had called my balls.
Useless fucking sacks of shit. Just like you.
