Page 64 of An Improper Deal (Elliot & Annabelle 1)
The mattress dips, and he tugs the sheet away. “Lovely,” he whispers, slipping a hand under the hem of my nightie. His callused fingertips brush over my bare legs and hips. Despite the light touch, I feel them all the way to my clit.
“Doggy style, hmm?”
My eyes fly open. His head is tilted and he’s reading the text on my phone.
I hit the sleep/wake button, and the screen goes black instantly. But it’s too late.
He watches me with lust glittering in his gaze. My heart pounds so hard I can’t hear anything except the roar of the blood.
“Is that what you want, beautiful?” he asks, pressing his nose at the crook of my neck and inhaling my scent. He nuzzles gently. His five o’clock shadow grazes my skin, and I feel the rasp as though it’s a direct flick over my clit. “Want me to get you going, make you beg for it on your hands and knees?”
The scenario he whispers about should be too preposterous. I’ve never begged for sex, ever. It was never that exciting or important. But with Elliot…it’s different. I wonder if he can actually make me beg…and what it would take to become that desperate.
He pushes the nightgown out of the way and presses his mouth on every unveiled inch, from mid-thigh to pelvis, where I have a pair of nude panties on. With one finger hooked on the left side and teeth clamped on the other, he pulls them down. His breath fans over my legs, and the edge of his upper teeth scrapes my skin, leaving a trail of heat behind.
After pulling the underwear off, he studies them. “Lovely. And wet.”
My face flames at the glistening moisture in the crotch part of the panties. But he exudes a confident sexuality and satisfaction, as though everything is the way it should be.
Fisting the scrap of satin in his hand, he slowly moves over me. His tongue traces the inside curve of one thigh while he drags the satin up the other. After an eternity, the two meet at the apex. He pauses over my damp curls, breathing in. “Delicious.”
My mouth dries, my body throbbing with anticipation. I can almost feel my clit swell with eagerness for what’s to come.
But he doesn’t put his mouth there. Instead he nips my belly and then laves the stinging spot. Air saws in and out of my lungs, and I clench the sheet under me.
The firmness of his lips, the abrasive five o’clock shadow and sharp nips of his teeth contrast with each other, teasing my senses. I whimper. I couldn’t move even if I wanted to. He’s taller, easily a hundred pounds heavier—all of it muscle—and could hold me with ease. But even without the strength and size difference, he can dominate me with his strength of will and the dark focus in his eyes that pins me to the bed.
His hand moves upward and rolls a nipple between his fingers, while his mouth closes over the other rigid peak. My back arches of its own volition. Sweat films over me like mist, and I can’t do anything except hold onto the sheet.
“Spread your legs,” he orders.
“Yes,” I whisper breathlessly, mindlessly. The pleasure he elicits is like a drug in my bloodstream, and I’m like a junkie desperate for another hit.
He rewards me by cupping my soaking flesh. His thumb brushes over my clit. Electric pleasure jolts through me, and I let out a ragged breath. He pushes a finger into me. It slips in easily, and my inner muscles grip it greedily.
“You’re so fucking tight.”
“You didn’t have any trouble,” I point out, almost mindless with what he’s doing to my body.
“Only because you’re so wet.” He adds another finger. “Jesus.” He hisses, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. “Love the way your pussy grabs me.”
That only makes me clench harder. Some of my exes talked to me during sex, but with them, somehow…it was awkward. There’s nothing but heat between me and Elliot. It’s like I’m totally with him in the moment, instinctively understanding that if he feels even a little bit of what I’m feeling, it must be pretty good…that he’s not just saying stuff because he thinks it’ll turn me on.
He pumps his fingers. “I want you ravenous for me. I’m going to fuck you until you scream my name so many times you go hoarse.”
The heat searing me is too intense. I feel like I’m burning from inside out. I brace my feet against the mattress and match his rhythm.
“Yes, beautiful,” he whispers darkly against my wet, sore nipple. “Tell me what you want.”
“You,” I whisper, rolling my pelvis for more.
He curls the finger, hitting the sweet spot inside me. “Don’t come until I say you can.”
The second after the co
mmand registers, he circles my clit with his thumb, slick with my own juices. Pleasure coils tightly in my womb. Even the soles of my feet tingle with it.
I cling desperately to sanity. I’m not used to this. Usually I’m thinking about something to help me get somewhat excited or just fake the damn thing so it can be over. But these endless rippling waves of pleasure, each stronger than the one before, are driving me out of my mind, and all I want is for him to let me have it. I’m craving it more than air.
