Page 93 of Eyes in the Shadows

“I know. Never again. I’m never leaving you like that again.”

“Never again,” I moan. “Mac, you feel so good.”

“Fuck me, baby,” he urges. “Use me to feel good.”

Ialmost argue—that’s not what this was supposed to be about—but a wave of pleasure crashes down over my shoulders as my fingers find my clit. His hand—the injured one—pinches my nipple and I cry out.

“Mac, please—”

“Do it, come for me. My good girl.”

Between the gentle friction of my fingers exactly where and how I like, the not-so-gentle pressure of his cock deep inside me, and the words—the reminder that I’m his—I’m done. The orgasm barely builds before I’m tumbling over the peak. The pleasure is extraordinary, shooting out from where our bodies are connected and, for a brief moment, my senses get all mixed up. It fills every limb of my body with colors. It feels loud.

I open my eyes and see nothing but so much tenderness as he watches me come down from my high, I almost lose it again. His abdomen is tensing, forcing his hips and cock up inside me as much as he can, prolonging the pleasure. I fold forward to kiss him again, and rise.

“Okay, now you come for me.”

I set a steady pace, up and down, enjoying the feeling as much as I enjoy watching him fall apart under me. His eyes are locked where his cock sinks in and out as I ride him. I’m not sure what kind of dirty talk he really likes, since he’s usually the one instigating, but I do know a few things he likes to hear…

“It’s all for you. Only you.”

His eyes fly up to meet mine, wide and surprised, like he’s checking if I’m serious. “Eleanor—”

“Yours,” I promise. “Yours, yours, yours, yours.”

I barely make it all the way back up and down before his body is tensing under me. His mouth opens wide as his head goes back, though the sound that escapes is choked. His legs jerk underneath me, his fingers dig hard into my hips, and every muscle in his chest and abs comes into stark relief. God, he is stunning.

He finishes, and I can feel the effect of gravity on our mixed fluids as I climb off and fall to my side next to him. I’m a little sore, tired, and drunk on pleasure, the way only really intense sex makes you.

“I didn’t think I could come if I was on the bottom,” he says as he turns towards me.

“Have you never before?” At his shake of the head, I smile. “I do like being on top, but I have to admit that I love being under you.”

He grins and settles his hand in the valley of my waist. “Then don’t be surprised if that’s how you wake up in a few hours.”

Even though we just did all that, my body instantly responds to it. I feel my nipples prickle and my sex pulsate. “My favorite way to wake up.”

34

Mac

Who meets for dinner on a Tuesday at 10:30 PM?

After I wake in the morning, I lay there and listen to her even, shallow breathing for a while. My dick is hard, like it usually is when I wake, and I’m sorely tempted to recreate the dream I was having, but I doubt she’d appreciate regaining consciousness in surprise bondage. She needs to rest, anyway.

Instead, I slip out of bed, toss on enough clothes so I won’t catch any shit for my nudity or hard on, and head downstairs. I leave the gauze wrap in place, in spite of the fact that I don’t really need it since the wounds aren’t oozing, because it reminds me of her. It reminds me that she cares enough to want to help heal me; that she soothes me.

I smile, remembering the way she handled my wounds. I like how tender she was with me. No one else does that, which could have something to do with my chosen profession. But somehow her gentle treatment isn’t emasculating, like I thought it would be. If anything, it makes me feel stronger, more manly. It’s an addictive feeling.

Like I needed another reason to be addicted to her.

Wes is in his cave, as per usual, staring at his screen with a pensive frown.

“Hey man, what did you find?”

He glances at me, then sits back. “Nice face.”

I scrub my jaw where I know the skin has turned black and blue. I can feel the puffiness that tells me it’s still a bit swollen, but something being tender to the touch doesn’t faze me anymore unless something is broken. “I’m thinking of going into modeling, but you wouldn’t know anything about that, ugly mug like yours.”

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