Page 40 of Standing Still

Looking at her again, listening to the steady rhythm of her breathing, I trail the tip of my finger over the tattoo. I want to know what it says. It’s incredibly delicate, water coloring in the petals of the tulip. It’s still vibrant, so can’t have been there long.

My touch, though gentle, makes her shift and she rolls back slightly, the sheet doing nothing to cover those amazing tits I had in my hands last night. My cock gets ideas as the cold air in my room affects those pretty pink nipples. My fingers itch to touch her again. Would itbe so wrong?

Yes, you ass, while she is sleeping and unable to agree to anything.

She lets out a soft moan and her eyelids flutter. When her lids crack open, for a second I can see how content she is, then she becomes more aware that her surroundings aren’t where she would have expected to wake up. She inhales and turns her head to see me watching her.

“Hey,” I say quietly.

Elle licks her lips, becomes aware she is completely uncovered, and reaches for the sheet. “Morning," she whispers.

“You okay?” I ask. I hold my breath, waiting for her answer.

I hate to admit I want her to not regret last night. Whether I like it or not, we’ve still got a connection, and last night was more than just sex. A soft smile graces her lips, and she nods and something loosens in my chest. I roll onto my side and trace my hand across her cheekbone. She stares at me the whole time. My fingers draw a pattern across her skin.

“What does your tattoo say?” I ask her.

Her brows lift slightly at the question. Clearly not what she was expecting me to ask, given the situation we find ourselves in. “Fai sempre quello che hai paura di fare,” she answers.

“Fuck, that is sexy,” I grin.

“It’s Italian,” she laughs at my reaction and rolls so she is on her side, too. “I learnt it a couple of years ago.”

“You speak Italian?” I ask, impressed.

“Sì. È una lingua Bellissima e ho sempre voluto andarci.”

“Fuck, I don’t know what you just said, but that is hot.” I stretch my hand over her and ghost my fingers over the tattoo on her spine. “What do the words on the tattoo mean?”

She shivers at the touch, her voice comes out more of a whisper at first. “Always do what you are afraid to do. It’s by Waldo Emerson. He was an author and philosopher."

I nod. “It fits you.” She stares at me, her eyes soft at me admitting that. “You always were brave, Elle. You never let anything hold you back from what you wanted.”

“That isn’t totally true. Half the time I was terrified. Scared of making mistakes, of regretting the choices I made. I still am sometimes. Like I said the other night, I still can’t fathom how I got where I am.”

“Do you have many regrets?”

She nods again. My chest tightens. “I wish I’d done a lot of things differently.”

I want to ask if she means last night, or when she left Mystic, probably not speaking to her dad before he died. The look on her face tells me she is seeing right through me. We may have just been kids, but for me, Elle was the end goal. I hated to remember how long it took me to get over her leaving, how to forget the anger and try to be happy for her, especially as she got more successful over the years.

I could have resented her, did in fact, for a while. But hating her never sat right with me. I encouraged her to go in my own stupid way. I sincerely wish I hadn’t done it the way I did, but I was a dickhead kid, hurt and confused and not wanting her to go, so pushing her away felt like the best thing to do. In hindsight, I was a fucking idiot.

“I don’t regret last night,” she tells me, her hand moving between us and touching my jaw.

“No?”

“No, in realtà non ho pensato a nient'altro che a questo per tutto il tempo che sono stato qui.”

Well, that, no matter whatthatmeans, triggers me into motion. I lean over and kiss her. Elle welcomes me without hesitation as I push the sheet off her and roll her onto her back, dipping my head down to take her nipple into my mouth. Fuck, her skin is so soft. I cup her breast as I suck and gently bite on her flesh, making her moan. I run my hand under the sheet and between her thighs,fucking ecstatic to find how wet she is already as I dip a finger inside her.

“God,” she moans, her head dropping back so her throat is fully exposed.

Elle moans again as I pump my fingers inside her. I keep going, teasing her neck with my mouth and my fingers until her whole body tenses and she lets out breathy little pants that go all the way to my cock. She is fucking beautiful when she comes. Her whole chest flushes pink, her lips part and her back arches.

I lean over and reach for the bedside drawer, pulling out another condom. I slot myself between her open thighs, up on my knees, running my hands up the sides of her legs and lifting them so they’re up over my hips, then tug her down the bed towards me.

She lets out a whimper as my dick presses against her and I lean forward, holding her hips as I slowly ease inside, watching as my dick disappears into her body. Gritting my teeth, I stop, and just look up at her, willing myself to control the urge to fuck her, until I explode without a care for what she gets out of it.

---