Page 37 of Hot Mic, Cold Ice

“Likewise,” I gasp.

As soon as we are inside, Elliot wastes no time. His hands are everywhere, rough and demanding as if he needs answers from my body. His attention is hot, wanting, and merciless. Our clothes are tossed haphazardly, leaving a trail from the front door to his bedroom.

The moment we hit the bed, his lips crash against mine again. Hungry and searching, as if he’s trying to consume mewhole. I match his energy, my fingers digging into his back, pulling him closer. He pins me to the bed, his hands gripping my wrists above my head. He peppers kisses down my neck, making me squirm.

“I’m going to have you quivering for my touch before you are allowed to come tonight, Anatife,” he says, low and gravely.

The room is charged with a sensual tension as Elliot’s movements become a torturous tease, his hips pressing into mine with precision, just barely teasing my clit. Each shallow thrust makes my body arch towards his, craving more, yet he maintains a maddeningly slow pace.

Our exploration of each other takes a darker, more tantalizing turn. As I writhe beneath him, begging for release, the soft click of cuffs echoes through the room. My breath hitches as he secures my wrists gently above my head, his eyes glinting with a mischievous spark that promises more intense pleasure to come. The restraints only heighten my need, making every brush of his skin against mine feel like fire. His control is absolute, and in that moment, I am utterly his, caught in the delicious torment of his game.

His voice, a seductive command, fills the air, “Open those legs and let me get a look at how bad you want my fingers, or maybe my tongue, in your cunt.”

I oblige, spreading myself before him, entirely at his mercy. “Tell me to stop, and I’ll stop.” He says as he admires the sight briefly before leaning down, his tongue tracing a burning path along my sensitive skin.

After quickly slipping on a condom, he positions himself so close to my aching pussy. He thrust into me with a firmpressure that rips the breath from my lungs. As he moves inside me, his fingers find my mouth, slipping in deeply.

“That’s right, come on my cock as you swallow my fingers, you dirty girl,” he murmurs, his voice rough with desire. Overwhelmed by the dual sensations, my body responded intensely, my inner walls starting to pulse around him. “You should see how beautiful you look taking my dick. Watching it slip in and out of your dripping wet pussy.” His words trigger me, climaxing powerfully, my body gripping his thick cock.

His approving murmur, “You are such a good girl for me,” washes over me, sending shivers over my body as my muscles shake from my release.

“Fuck me until I’m begging you to stop.” I whimper as my body aches for more.

Elliot doesn’t give up. The night is a blur of heated kisses, tangled limbs, and whispered curses. Our bodies move together in a desperate, almost frantic rhythm, each of us trying to outdo the other. It's rough and passionate, an outlet for all the tension and frustration that has been building between us. He touches every inch of me, building up the sensation in my core, every nerve ending firing, and strips it all from me with each release.

Lying naked and tangled together, the heat of our bodies mingle together. I am left limp but completely satisfied, but something is still off about Elliot. I can feel the shift in his demeanor. He takes a deep breath and finally speaks, his voice low and hesitant. “Ziggy, about that jersey. Seeing you in another guy’s colors—it drove me fucking crazy.”

I tense, my heart racing as I counter with what has been bothering me. “Well, what about the woman I heard on the phone, Elliot? Who was she?”

“Is that what this is about?” He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “That night, I was out with the boys. We ended up getting tattoos and got stupid drunk. The woman was just the artist. Nothing happened, I swear. It was all about the ink.”

I raise an eyebrow, skeptical but intrigued. “Tattoos, huh? What did you get?”

He hesitates, unsure, maybe even embarrassed to give complete and total honesty or is just being difficult on purpose. “You’ll have to figure it out for yourself.”

I smirk at him, “challenge accepted.”

Feeling a strange comfort and anticipation, I start to examine his skin. I keep talking as I make my way over his body, while I work up the courage to say, “Okay, Elliot. What if we renegotiate our agreement? Exclusively physical, just the two of us. No one else.”

He pulls me closer, his lips brushing against my ear. “Deal, Ziggy. Just us.”

I trace a finger along Elliot’s chest, looking up at him with a teasing yet unsure expression. “Are you sure I will be enough? My boobs aren’t as nice as the ones that you are used to.” I say, my voice soft and a bit hesitant, “I look nothing like the women you’re usually seen with.”

Elliot’s eyes darken with something angry like a mix of desire and frustration. He grabs my hand, holding it firmly against his chest. “Shut the fuck up about that shit. You are perfect. Your boobs are perfect,” he says, his voice rough with intensity. “And they are mine. I want to paint them in my cum,but that pussy of yours is so greedy that I haven’t gotten a chance.”

His lips find mine and just like that my body is no longer like a limp noodle and suddenly ready for more. I pull my hand from his grasp and move it to my chest, playing with myself, pushing my breasts together, my arousal deep within nowhere near extinguishing. Elliot's voice drops to a husky whisper as he looks up at me, his eyes alight with wild intent. “That’s it, press those beautiful tits together for my dick.”

His words send shivers down my spine as I comply, feeling the heat between us amplify with every breath. He moves with deliberate intent, his actions driving us both toward a dizzying peak. His cock thrusts between my breasts, his fingers playing with my clit. When he finally reaches his release, his warmth spreads across my skin, his eyes search mine, his breath hot against my flush skin.

“Did me coming all over your tits make you so wet that you can’t stand it?” His tone is teasing, laced with the thrill of his fingers lazily moving through my arousal, drawing a gasp and a nod from me as I surrender to the feeling of him playing with me.

With a sudden loss of connection, his fingers are gone from my center, now leaving a bruising pressure on my hips as he flips us so I am straddling him. His strong hands guide me up toward his head.

“Hey, wait a second. What are you doing?” I say as I press against his movements. Trying to get him to stop.

“I want another taste of you,” he says huskily, his intense eye contact hard to argue with.

“No way. I’m sure you are tired and don’t want to have to do that. Plus, I’d probably suffocate you.” I say with a joking tone but deep down, I'm a little concerned about the truth in my words.

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