Page 35 of Elusive

Chapter 12

Sutton

I should pull away. Leave her hanging. Starved. Or even a fraction as agonized as she always leaves me. Anything other than ravish her right back, meeting her tongue lashes and demanding more.

Fuck me if I can resist her though. Anyone else, I’d stand a fighting chance, but I’m defenseless when it comes to Presley Beckett. She’s it — the one — put on this earth for me… and made to bring me to my knees.

But I got to at least try to maintain a shred of dignity, so I shove both hands in her hair and tilt her head back to kiss down her neck. “Friday night, seven o’clock. Picking you up, for a date.” I edge, sucking the race in her pulse. “That you know about and agree to. That you want to go on, with me.”

“Okay,” she too-easily agrees in a sexy moan.

I raise my head and glide a hand down to the back of her neck to do the same to hers, forcing eye contact. “That you, or your pussy talkin’?”

Crude? Yes. Offensive to eleven out of ten women? Probably. Presley? Grins, slow and devilish, odd delight in her eyes. “Both,” she answers. “I’ll even do you one better. Your bike, sexy as hell. You on your bike? Even sexier. But having sex on your bike? Not sounding near as fun now, I’m already uncomfortable,” she snickers, soft and feminine, sliding her hand under my shirt and up my chest. “Let’s go home, to my apartment, and you can park out front… overnight.”

I smile, aware of the bigger message hidden in what she said, determined to make her actually say it. I grab the collar of her shirt and tug it down, just as roughly yanking her bra to the side, giving me one perfect, exposed tit to suck. She has the best fuckin’ tits — well over a handful, soft and natural, responsive, and so goddamn gorgeous. “Why am I parking overnight?” I ask around a mouthful.

She arches her back, offering herself up, and moans, “‘cause you’re spending the whole thing with me.”

“You want me to stay all night, Sugar?” I flick my tongue against her peaked nipple. “No changing your mind? Kicking me out after you finish coming?”

“All night. Staying, and coming,” she grasps for breath, and my head, hauling it up to attack my mouth. Her kiss is drunken, lazy, gently invading… as if she means it. And too soon, yet not at all, she robs me of her sweetness and begs, “Sutton, take me home. Hurry.”

****

I don’t care if her whole family sees my bike sitting out front, all damnnight, and obviously, neither does she — which says so much more than she probably realizes. Better still, it’s her that takes me by the hand, and leading us to her door — also speaking volumes. Seventy-five percent of communication is non-verbal, and my Hot Shot just told me, twice, I’m making headway on that seemingly impenetrable “wall” of hers.

Once we’re inside, I take over, scoop her up by the ass, supporting her trademark, favorite of mine, leap into my hold. She winds her legs around my waist and fights to get my shirt over my head as I carry us to her bedroom.

She wriggles down me, wanting set on her feet, so I allow it; only for the fact it’ll make undressing her easier. “Arms up.” I sound depraved, deprived, both, and have her shirt off the second her arms are in the air. “Goddamn, what you do to me,” I grumble, reaching behind her, and with one deft flick, unfasten her bra. “Now let it fall.” Eyes on mine, she lowers her arms, giving a little shimmy to her shoulders until the black lace hits the floor. “You’re exquisite, Sugar.”

I crook my finger, coaxing her closer, ready to finish my assault on those pretty, pebbled nipples. But she has other plans, moving in fast, making even quicker work of my belt and button-fly.

“Wh-” My words die out, killed by shock, and uncontrollable urgency, the instant she drops to her knees, dragging my jeans and boxer briefs down with her.

“There is something about you, Sutton Patrick Ellis, beyond compare,” her silky purr is loaded with innuendo, her eyes roaming over my dick, hard as granite, standing up and out for her.

I can’t peel my eyes off the sight of her skimming the tip of her tongue from base to tip of me, paying special attention to the engorged vein, obliterating my ability to stop her, see to her first.She thrills off my depraved groan and goes in for the kill, taking as much of me as she can deep into the hot heaven of her mouth in one greedy plunge.

My Hot Shot doesn’t ever do anything half-ass, giving bomb-ass ballcap certainly included. It feels fucking amazing — dick plus chick’s mouth equals amazing, is a pretty concrete formula — but this is Presley, on her knees for me. She defies theory, formula… incomparable to any other.

“Fuck, Sugar.” Again, my grunt spurs her on and she tightens her lip lock around me, every muscle in her jaw, tongue, and throat working my cock, and sanity.She’s determined, a perfectionist, not satisfied ‘til she’s tested my will to the point of madness. And from our past encounters, she knows what I crave most, the drug that sends me shooting over the edge every time... her dirty mouth.

She breaks suction with a wet “pop” and peers up at me, brown eyes brimming with downright witchery, a smug grin curving her swollen lips. “Am I doing it right?” she asks in pouty, pretend ignorance, jacking my aching hard-on with a firm grip while she waits for my reply.

“It feel like it? You wanna play, or you wanna suck that cock?”

Her eyes instantly blaze with a familiar flame of challenge and she says no more, lowering her head to deepthroat me… swallowing with hard purpose.

“Goddamn, you know just how I like it,” I growl, holding her hair out of the way and my perfect view, giving it a tug.

That does the trick — she’s all done with the tease, the buildup — solely trained on showing me what she’s got… an airtight seal and appetite.

I steal control, fucking her face, only letting up a few times so she can catch her breath. It’s not long before my balls draw up, heavy and ready to unload. “Gonna come, Sugar. You want it or not?”

Her ‘yes’ is to bob her head faster, and as if in rhythm with my long howl, I shoot endless ropes of thick, hot cum down her throat then stumble back a step in sated delirium.

That satiation, however, lasts all of thirty seconds… and I need my turn of her, hungrier than ever. Starving. Ravenous with reminder of the spell only Presley Beckett can weave just so. As though reading my mind, or more likely, feeding off my energy, she inches toward me.

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