A sound like a groan hit my ears, and my eyes flew open—colliding with Elijah’s.
He stood at my partially opened bedroom door. My shopping bags from the back of his truck on the floor at his feet. One hand gripped the doorframe; the other squeezed the massive bulge at the front of his jeans.
Neither of us moved. His labored breaths were loud, so loud I was surprised I hadn’t heard them sooner. I should be embarrassed, horrified, but I was too far gone to stop now. Shit, having him standing there, eyes on me while I fucked myself, did something to me, had me on the verge of coming instantly. He wanted to watch.
Wanted me to show him.
He wasn’t backing away, and I didn’t want him to go, so I slowly spread wider, giving him a better view. His eyes dropped to where I was still working my slippery, swollen clit, and I took advantage, showing him what I liked, what I wanted from him, and worked the vibrator deeper, sliding it in and out slow and steady, tormenting us both.
He made a sound that was half moan, half broken sob, then squeezed his cock harder. His other hand peeled off the doorframe and slapped against the partially open door, hard. It flew open, banging against the wall with force, and he stumbled over the threshold, into my room. He didn’t approach the bed, though; he moved to the side, back colliding with the wall, like he needed it to hold himself up, then growled, “More.” He licked his lips. “Show me. Please.”
Oh dear God. His face was dark, hands shaking, and all the while he crudely massaged his dick through his jeans. He was the hottest thing I’d ever seen. I had no choice. I wanted to give him anything he asked for. So I gave him more. Spreading as wide as I could, I fucked myself harder, faster, my clit sliding under my furiously moving fingers the whole time. A keening whimper burst from my throat—close, so close. I twisted and moaned but never took my eyes off his, the intent, hungry way they watched me, the way his lips parted, tongue sliding out, licking his suckable lips.
I reached up and squeezed one of my tits, tugging, pinching the nipple, and heat shot down my spine, burning through my core, and I blew up. I cried his name, arching against the mattress, screaming as I came so damn hard, light was dancing in front of my eyes.
Eli growled, the animalistic sound bursting through my orgasmic haze, and I forced my eyes open. His were wild, glittering, then he grunted and took a step toward me. We were both panting, gazes locked. I opened my mouth—to say what, I didn’t know—but before I could, he stopped suddenly. Torment distorted his ruggedly handsome features, sharpening his cheekbones, hardening his jaw, and a sound exploded past his lips, a sound that lifted the hair at the back of my neck, a cry filled with pain. Then he spun around and stormed from the room. I lay there stunned. I had no idea what he was thinking, but I knew I had to go after him.
Sliding off the bed, I dragged my dress over my head and raced on shaky legs out the door. The yard was empty, no sign of him, so I ran to the barn. The interior was dim, silent; there was no pounding on his punching bag this time. He wasn’t down here. I looked at the stairs that led to his rooms. I’d never gone up there, not since he’d moved in. The steps were sturdy, rough against my bare feet, not making a sound as I cautiously took them. His door was closed, so I knocked softly. No reply came, but I knew he was in there. Turning the handle, I pushed the door open, and my breath caught in my lungs.
Eli stood, back to a tall bookshelf, face red, eyes screwed shut, jeans undone, and cock in his hand. He was stroking the long length with sharp, brutal tugs.
That alone was hot enough, but something about seeing the magnificent man in front of me, his tall, built body against a shelf full of well-read books—it was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen.
Oh dear God, he was magnificent.
Without thinking about it, without saying a word, my only thought to have that beautiful cock in my mouth, I crossed the room and dropped to my knees in front of him. “Let me,” I rasped.
His eyes flew open, and he tried to back up. “Jesus, I’m sorry…I didn’t mean…”
I reached up, wrapped my fingers around his, and his body jerked like I’d given him an electric shock. “Let me,” I repeated.
“Miss Abigail,” he gritted out. “You shouldn’t…”
I climbed to my feet, gripped the bottom of his shirt, and holding his gaze, lifted it slowly, giving him the chance to tell me to stop, that this wasn’t what he wanted. He didn’t. He stared back, and the way he looked at me made my pulse race.
I dragged it up over his powerful body. He had to lean forward so I could pull it over his head and fling it aside. “I want to make you feel good.” Then I leaned in, wrapped my lips around one of his flat brown nipples, and sucked and licked it. He moaned and began to shake as I dipped lower, tracing the ridges of his abs. I groaned when I finally got a taste of his warm, salty skin. Damn, so much better than I’d ever dreamed—and I’d dreamed a lot.