Page 88 of Tears of Ink

“Nothing.”

“No, come on. Something is funny.”

“I’m thinking about Gerard Steers.”

The warm blood rushing through my veins cools a little. “Why?”

He shakes his head, but his grin grows, and damn does it look mighty fine. “Just schoolboy stuff, don’t worry.”

I arch an eyebrow. “Are you still a schoolboy, Elijah?”

We are at the door to my room. My heart is pounding, my knees knocking. It’s as though this moment is everything all at once. It’s nothing, not really, but my head and heart are telling me otherwise—I wish they’d shut up.

His fingers trail along my collarbone, dancing a light as feather touch as they skim up my throat and slide around the back of my neck, his thumb running along my jaw.

Blues sweep across my face. “I’ve wanted you since the first moment I saw you in The Ritz.”

My stomach flips with his words and my legs turn to jelly.

My gaze sweeps up through my lashes, my mouth parting as I breathe in the warm summer air and the hint of his soap. It’s a heady concoction which makes my head spin.

When his lips graze mine, it’s all encompassing. A brazen fire lights in the pit of my stomach, a needy ache I know won’t be quenched, and I’m not even going to try, I’m not going to fight it. I kiss him back, breathing it, living it, giving it everything I have. My fingers slide to their new favourite place, playing with the short hair at the back of his neck. His hands drop from my neck, skimming down my ribcage, anchoring onto the ridge of my hips.

Our tongues tangle, probing and searching; at first gentle and soft, then harder and faster, until our breaths come in shortened gasps. I don’t want to breathe if it means ending the kiss. He opens the door, never breaking contact, guiding me in with eager hands, firm and strong.

I’m splintering into hundreds of pieces, all of them desperate for him at the same time. I want my clothes off and his skin on mine. Him warm and strong, burrowing in the darkest places of me. I grab at his shirt, pulling at it, uncaring of the expensive tailoring, catching the buttons and forcing them with unsteady fingers through the holes. He helps, his fingers calmer as he pops them one by one, his lips still on my mouth as he shucks the shirt off his shoulders and it pools by our feet. My hands slide along his hard chest; his smooth, tanned skin gleaming in the dark shadows of the room. He’s perfect, toned and lithe, all my favourite things. I kiss the skin I find, trailing my lips across his chest, my hands running down the flat of his stomach to the buckle of his belt. The few moments we’ve had together he’s always focused all the attention on me. Not anymore. Not now I’ve chosen. I flick my tongue against his nipple, and it buds against my lips as he shivers slightly and groans. I suck, teasing it between my teeth, before I skim my lips to the other side and do the same. His hands hold me tighter, his palms burning through my jeans, gripping my hips.

“Fuck, Faith.”

I grin and continue exploring with my mouth and hands. Dropping to my knees, I unbuckle his belt, my fingers working better as I slip the leather through its loop and unhook his suit trousers, tugging them down until they are at his ankles. He kicks off his shoes and manages to hook his toes into his socks, pulling them off with undeniable skill. When he’s just in his boxers, I straighten, admiring the sight of him, unable to pull my gaze away from the bulge through the black material of his pants. I rub my palm along his length, and his mouth greedily searches for mine, pulling me tight until we are meshed together.

“You’re wearing far too many clothes,” he almost growls into my mouth. In a startling move, he sweeps me up, placing me against his chest as he paces for the bed and throws me onto the mattress. His hands are quick, certain and sure as they tug at my jeans, peeling them away from my legs. His hands yank my top off with little ceremony until I’m just in my matching lace underwear. “You are so incredibly beautiful.”

I blush and lay back, my whole body burning for him. He lowers towards me, his lips everywhere. His hands are along my sides, then cupping my breasts, and pulling my hair—so many places. I’m falling from one moment to the next like I’m jumping stars. “I need you.” Between my legs, a molten river of fire scorches for his touch.

“I want to taste you.” He dips his head to travel down my body, but I catch him back up, pulling his mouth to mine.

“Not now.”

His eyes meet mine, his hand dipping between us, searching out the places under my drenched knickers. One finger slips swiftly inside, then another, and I arch up to meet his touch. It’s not enough though; I need it deeper, fuller, harder.

I grab at his boxers and catch my toes into the waistband, pushing them down while he smirks against my mouth, his lips curving slowly. He turns me, rolling me under his thighs, until I’m face down on the mattress. His fingers trail across the ink on my skin, skimming between the crease in my ass. When he unhooks my bra and slides my knickers down, I’m almost floating above the bed. His fingers never stop trailing, touching, caressing. I spread my legs a little, so they can slip back where I want them the most. It’s a guttural groan I let out into the soft pillow as both his fingers slip beneath my clit and enter me, massaging the sensitive spot deep inside.

I’m going to come. It builds and builds until I’m clawing the sheets and he flips me over, pushing my legs wide apart, his eyes sweeping along me. When he lowers his boxers and his erection springs free, I stifle a small cry. I’ve never wanted anything more, never needed anything as much as I want him right now.

He bends over the side of the bed, one hand searching the pockets of his trousers for his wallet; the other hand teasing and torturing me with delicate strokes. He slips a condom from his wallet and tears the packet open with his teeth. Rolling it on, he positions himself at my entrance and I’m almost bucking off the bed trying to get him inside. His eyes hold mine, never wavering as he slowly pushes in. I sigh a breath as he inches further, deeper and deeper until he’s taken me to the hilt. Then he leans down, his lips finding my mouth, our foreheads pressed together as he slowly rotates his hips. It’s just the smallest of movements, rolling deep, pressing me to the absolute max. I groan as the friction of our bodies alongside one another rubs my clit. Within me he’s stroking the sensitive spot that makes my toes point and stretch.

And then, just when I can’t guess how this can be anymore wonderful than being filled to the brim with this deep and strong sensation, he slides in and out. With every drive of his hips, he drills deeper and deeper until our bodies are slinging together, my nails are dragging along his back as an anchor and my hips are lifting from the bed.

Harder and faster he pounds, and I arch myself to meet him, my lips trailing wild kisses across any bit of his skin I can touch. Then, just as I’m cresting a dark tormenting wave of an orgasm, building from my toes and travelling along my legs to where I’m going to explode, he fills me deep again, stopping and waiting. His breath hangs between us as he kisses me deep, his tongue hard and fast. My hips buck against his, willing him to carry on, but he doesn’t, and I’m left whimpering on the edge of a dark wilderness. Pushing further and further, I think he’s going to split me in two. He moves so slowly, I sob out his name.

“Eli.”

His eyes meet mine, his fingers brushing the damp hair from my face. “Scream my name.”

And then he’s off again, and the orgasm tantalisingly close, held at bay, frozen in the moment, erupts and carries me off and I scream for him. Shouting his name and searing it into my soul forever more.

“Eli. Eli. Eli.”