Page 22 of The Very First Night

Much to my delight, he pushes past the fabric. He shoves the lace to one side and I quake at the sensation of his fingertips dancing over the sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Please, Elijah,” I moan, every bit of my reserve crumbling.

His restraint seems to waver as well, and he presses his thumb against my clit and plunges his middle finger deep inside my core.

I gasp at the sensation, realizing for the first time just how drenched I am.

As if he can hear my thoughts, Elijah mumbles, “Fuck, you’re so wet.”

I feel my face flush at his words, the simple action of him speaking the vulgar thought aloud bringing me to life. He pumps his finger lazily in and out of me, but I can’t resist bucking my hips, chasing the sensation. As quickly as his fingers are there, they are gone, leaving me breathless and empty.

Elijah stretches his arm to the side, grabs his phone and the television remote, and places them on the bedside table. The corners of his mouth twist into a slightly mischievous grin as he shifts closer to me on the bed. He deftly flips me onto my back, causing me to let out a surprised yelp. My breath hitches as he slowly unbuttons my shorts, his fingers lingering.

My shorts and underwear are in a heap on the floor within seconds and Elijah crawls between my legs. His erection strains against the stiff denim of his jeans, but he doesn’t remove them yet. His hot breath ghosts over my damp flesh, the sensation nearly causing me to buckle. I’m aware of every breath, every sensation.

So when he dips his head down and drags his tongue through my folds, I nearly lurch out of my skin.

“Oh my god,” I gasp.

His mouth is hot and wet against me, his tongue moving in quick circles over my sensitive clit. Each flick of his tongue sends a jolt of pleasure through my body, encouraging him to continue.

To my delight, I actually feel that flicker of sensation start to build. I’ve never orgasmed from the touch—or in this case, the tongue—of another person. The mere thought electrifies me.

With every lash of his tongue, I quiver. Elijah appears to be on a full-out mission, my pleasure the only thing driving him forward. It’s a foreign feeling, a partner being so dedicated to making me feel good.

My high school boyfriend never made me come—I’m not even sure he ever tried. When we had sex, we would typically just crawl into the back of his hand-me-down Chevy. There was seldom any foreplay.

But this? This is…magnificent.

The telltale sign of my impending orgasm starts to crawl up my spine, leaving me panting as Elijah sucks my clit between his lips, lapping at it with the tip of his tongue. When he pushes two fingers deep inside me, I detonate like a bomb.

“Fuck, I’m gonna—I’m gonna?—”

Burning white-hot pleasure floods me, and I don’t feel even remotely in control of my own body. He wields it like a tool from his very own arsenal, like my body was made for the sole purpose of him giving it pleasure.

Elijah’s lips land against my inner thigh, peppering kisses against the tingling skin before he lifts onto his hands and knees, hovering over me, his cock only inches from my entrance.

He kisses me, his lips hovering for a moment before he reaches over to the nightstand. He fumbles through the drawer and pulls out a foil packet, easily tearing it open and sliding the condom on.

Holy shit.

I’ve never had sex right after an orgasm before. I expect it to hurt, but the bite of his thrust only heightens my pleasure, my over-sensitized core instead climbing higher and higher into oblivion.

With each push into me, he grows more frantic, as if the thought of his own release on the horizon brings out a different side of him, an animalistic side.

Wielding that kind of power is invigorating. Knowing that I’m the source of his pleasure leaves a warmth in my chest.

“God. Fuck. Kat—I’m going to…” His thrusts grow faster, more aggressive.

My head nearly hits the headboard, but I don’t mind the shift. I actually think it’s possible that I could come this way too, a new concept that I hadn’t even considered.

Elijah’s grasp on my hips tightens as he pushes into me, this time with far more purpose.

One…two…three. As his last thrust buries him deep, he lets out a groan, his cock twitching inside of me. We stay like this for a moment, panting and gasping, drenched in sweat but without a single care in the world.

And then Elijah pulls himself out of me, leaving me achingly empty.

He looks around the room, scanning it with purpose before his eyes land on the towel hanging on the back of his door.

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