I pant as his hot mouth traces my cheeks, my jaw. I can’t focus on anything else but the sensations he arouses in me, how much I crave him.
“Hold on to the table,” he orders, his voice rasping over me.
My hands wrap around the edge of the table behind me. The position arches my back, thrusting my breasts forward. My wet folds hover a few inches above his crotch, and my pelvis rolls in the air, desperate for him.
“Jesus, I knew it,” he says, pushing the skirt of my dress out of the way. “Fuck.” His fingers run over the swollen tissues below. I rock against them, mindless. He pushes a finger inside, his thumb at my clit. “You’re tight,” he grinds out.
I don’t care if he’s complaining or just making a statement of fact. The only thing that matters right now is that he has a finger inside me and with one hand is destroying everything I thought I knew about sex.
“More,” I demand in a throaty voice, greedy for him.
“Oh, don’t worry.” He slowly pushes another finger into me, and it’s all I can do to not scream.
My breathing is shallow, my rib cage barely moving as I struggle for air. Tight knots form in my belly as he finds that special spot inside and simultaneously runs his thumb over my clit over and over again. Every cell in my body vibrates, waiting and hoping…
If all this ends in another of those soft pops of tension I’ve experienced before, I think I’ll cry.
His heated gaze is mesmerizing. I can’t seem to look away, even though it’s far too much for my overloaded system. I feel like I’m on a roller coaster that’s slowly inching toward the peak…
Curling the fingers inside me, he wraps his mouth around a nipple, dress and all, and sucks hard. The silken fabric rubs against my tender breast, and his teeth clamp hard enough to send a sharp sting through my body, soon followed by the soothing feel of his tongue. The pain pushes me over the edge, and I go into free fall. Molten pleasure cascades over me; it’s like plunging into a volcano of euphoria. Blackness hovers over me, but I can’t muster an ounce of worry as I fall apart in Elliot’s arms.
“My god…” I hear myself repeat that like a mantra. I’m shaking all over, uncontrollably, and he gathers me in and rocks me.
I don’t know how long we remain seated like that. Our server doesn’t come by to check up on us, so maybe it isn’t that long.
Elliot licks his fingers leisurely like they’re covered in syrup. His eyes glitter darkly, and I squirm at how openly carnal he is. I’ve never met a man like this before.
When he’s done, he presses a kiss at my sweat-misted temple. His hard erection presses against my backside, but he doesn’t make any move to take his turn.
“Haven’t you ever had an orgasm before?” he asks, his breath feathering against my ear.
My neck seems to shrink, and my skin grows hot. “Of course,” I shoot back.
I steal a quick glance his way. His eyes are too penetrating.
“It’s…” I shake my head. My sexual history isn’t something I want to discuss, even with a man I’m going to marry…and even if he just gave me the most mind-shattering climax ever. “Stop being so smug. I knew you had a big head, but this is too much.” I lay a hand on his cock. Speaking of big heads. It’s huge, much bigger than I realized, and rock hard. “Do you want…?”
“No. I don’t have a condom, and when I come with you for the first time, it’s going to be in your cunt.”
My face flames. I can’t decide which is worse—the fact that he’s being crude or that it’s turning me on.
He pulls the pins out of my hair and arranges it so it hides the wet spot over my breast. Then, putting an arm around my waist, he escorts me around the blue wall, through the other tables of diners, and out of the building, his strength lending extra support to my unsteady legs.
Chapter Sixteen
Elliot
Unsatisfied desire courses through my body. The drive from the crappy apartment complex takes an hour, but it doesn’t matter. My dick’s hard enough to break a brick.
I don’t give a fuck what she says. I’m pretty certain she’s never had an orgasm before. Or maybe only really shitty ones. It was in the way she clutched me, making small, desperately sad noises in her throat, like she was so certain the final payoff wouldn’t come.
Just thinking about that makes me angry on her behalf. Who the hell denies a woman her orgasm? At the same time, I’m honest enough to admit I’m pleased I rocked her world like no other man before.
It was all I could do not to sweep everything off the table and fuck her right there at the restaurant, but I’m pretty sure the servers would’ve noticed at that point. I don’t give a damn about scandalizing them, but Elizabeth definitely would, since the owner is her dearest cousin. And she’s the only woman whose opinion I care about.