Page 37 of Crossing the Top Line

I moan again as he pushes his fingers deep. “Good, so good. You’re so deep and oh,fuckyes,” I manage to get out.

He keeps prompting me over and over, and a very distant part of my mind realizes that by forcing me to put what’s happening into words, he’s keeping me in the present and in my body. A clever trick for me to consider more when I’m not getting finger-fucked into the next century.

His fingers move faster and harder, obscenely wet sounds coming from around his knuckles as he works me higher and higher. Heat coils in my lower belly, and I’m climbing like a rocket, balancing right on the edge of release. And then he adds a third finger and I shatter, screaming his name.

“That’s a good girl, just like that,” Eli coos, hand still massaging me from the inside, not slowing down for a second.

He sits back, his other hand pressing down on my lower belly as he practically lifts my hips from the couch with the force of his fingers fucking me. Pleasure twines with pain, and a second orgasm hits me without warning. I can’t stop my hands from flying down, grabbing onto his wrists. I don’t know if I want him to stop or keep going. My body is a beehive of sensation, and I can’t catch my breath long enough to speak.

“You’re going to come one more time before I fuck you, do you understand?” Elijah snarls.

He’s half bent over me at this point, arm never slowing even as I stare up, tears forming in the corners of my eyes.

“I can’t,” I gasp, my legs shaking as I try to find purchase on the couch.

“Yes, you can. I know you can. Because you’re my good girl, and my good girl does what she’s told,” Elijah whispers, leaning down and kissing me before licking at the tears running down my cheeks.

It’s like something inside me snaps the moment his thumb brushes against my swollen clit only a few times before he wrings one last reluctant orgasm from me. My body and my soul are two different beings, and I go limp, sinking into the couch. I’m shaking like a leaf in a hurricane as he finally slows, working me through the aftershocks of whatever witchcraft he just subjected my body to.

He pulls his hand free with a wet sound, but I don’t have the energy to do anything other than smile. When he leans down to kiss me again, I can taste my own sugary essence on his lips. And then, to my surprise, he gathers me up in his arms, helping me wrap my legs around his waist.

“Down the hall, then?” he asks into my hair.

I nod. “The door on the right,” I mumble, resting my cheek against his shoulder.

He shows no sign of exertion as he walks us down the hall, kicking my bedroom door closed behind us with ease.

“You’re strong,” I whisper with a giggle.

He laughs, a rumble like a passing freight train spreading through my chest. “You’re so sweet when you’re cum-drunk,” he says.

I want to argue, but he tosses me onto the bed, knocking the sass and air right out of my chest as I bounce on the soft mattress. The pillows and blankets bounce with me, and I push them away from my face just in time to watch him finally shed his shirt, followed shortly by his shoes, socks, pants, and finally his underwear.

My eyes go wide as he climbs into bed with me, taking in the smooth expanse of pale skin, his abs flexing and rippling under my stare.

“I don’t mean to spoil the mood, but I’m going to use a condom if it’s all the same,” he says, pulling my attention to his face.

My brow wrinkles at his strange choice of words, but I nod regardless. If this thing between us ends up being more than just for tonight, then I can worry about whatever emotional baggage he’s got. But for now, I’m faced with a more pressing problem.

“I hope you have one, because I’m not sure I have any big enough for the heat you’re packing,” I say with a disbelieving laugh.

His chuckle echoes my own, but he sits back on his heels, holding up a foil packet.

“Where were you hiding that?” I ask, moving more into the center of the bed and spreading my knees wide before letting my hand trail down my stomach to idly play with my still over-sensitive clit.

His eyes track my hand, even as he rips the packet and rolls the condom down his incredibly thick cock. The length is a little above average, but the girth… I’m not saying that God has favorites, but Elijah definitely did something right to end up blessed with that between his legs.

“A lady never tells,” Elijah jokes, stroking his cock a few times before crawling his way up between my thighs.

“Knot or no?” he asks, one of his hands moving between us to guide his cock to my soaked entrance.

“No,” I say firmly, cheeks heating.

I brace myself for the usual alpha lines, how he can’t really get off without knotting, or how it would mean a lot if I let him, or any of the other things I’ve heard ever since I came into my designation and started having sex. But instead, Eli simply nods, no questions asked. And before I can really marvel at this anomaly, the blunt head of his cock is pressing forward, sliding between my folds and stretching my entrance wide.

“Holy shit,” I gasp, grabbing onto Eli’s shoulders as I struggle to catch my breath.

He stops, barely inside of me, his eyes focused on my face, cataloging everything. One of his hands comes up to cup the side of my face, kissing me soundly as he presses just a little farther before retreating. His tongue is an excellent distraction, and soon enough, the burn fades into pleasure, and I’m meeting his hips stroke for stroke until I feel the slightly swollen bulge at the base of his cock against my outer lips.

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