Page 70 of Ella Gets the D
Her eyes drop to my mouth. “I didn’t do it for anyone else but me.” She cuts her gaze back to mine with a lifted brow.
A chuckle rattles in my throat.Tease. “Fair enough.” I slowly back her up against the counter and place my hands on either side of her. She draws in a sharp breath and leans back, leaving her neck exposed. I track the hard swallow that goes down her throat and drag my eyes to her cleavage pressed against the juncture of her robe.
The way I want to run my tongue across the peaked nipples taunting me and bury myself in her breasts is unholy.
Her legs part, an invitation to press myself against her heat. “Is playtime over, sweetheart?”
“It’s been awhile since I did this.” Her lip folds between her teeth with a downcast expression. “I’m out of practice, and shape. I didn’t last long.”
My eyes roam over her heavy breasts rising and falling with every breath, a soft stomach, hips for days, and those damn thick thighs. I lick my lips and meet her unsure stare. “Your shape looks perfect to me, but if you want to work on stamina”—I lean down— “practice makes perfect.”
Temptation plays out in her dark chocolate eyes, which are now the size of saucers. A blush creeps up her neck as she glances at the staircase. No one is awake or around to pull usapart. She weighs the decision with pressed lips and a rub of a hand over the adorable nest on her head.
“I never got myself off before…with my hands.”
My hand scrubs the scruff on my jaw. I’m at a loss for words. Ella stays busy with her kids, but if I looked like her, my fingers would be in my pussy at all times. My teeth grind at her bowed head and slumped shoulders. This woman is many things—fearless, confident, unapologetic—and I’ll be damned if disappointment breaks her spirit.
I lift her chin. “Do you trust me?” At her nod, I say, “Good girl.” Her pupils dilate. My dick throbs again.
She’s into praise? Noted.
“You have everything you need.” My other hand trails down a breast to her stomach and stops at the thin piece of satin covering her pussy. I press my palm against her mound and rub down, savoring the way she arches into me. “I could always help.”
Ella grabs my hand, careful to break contact. Her words come out in a rush. “You can’t. Penetrative sex during my separation is adultery.”
Well, fuck me.
No, seriously. I might have to fuck my own hand for the third time today. It’s become a daily ritual at this point. Penetrative sex could mean a number of things. My guess is my tongue and dick are off-limits.
And your fingers.
Fuck.
I’ve nutted imagining my first time inside El. That hasn’t happened since puberty. They say good things come to those who wait, but damn.
Note to self: Stock up on boxer briefs and find out if we can expedite her divorce. Like tomorrow.
My grip shifts from her chin to her throat. I rub her pulse with my thumb and pull her close. “Guess you have the honor tonight.”
Our stares collide in a clash of wills. There’s nothing I’d love more than to possess her, but tonight isn’t about me. She calls the shots.
Every thought leaves my body at the sight of her bare breasts. Caramel-tipped peaks move with her ragged breaths. She inhales deep and slides the fabric down to her elbows with a look that says,Your move.
My dick swells to the point of discomfort, but if I get a front-row seat to witness her in action again, it’s worth it. Confidence eases back into her face, a reclamation of her pleasure independent of a partner to provide it for her. Her smile builds when she leans back on her elbows and widens her thighs. The act spreads the curtain of silk, putting her beautiful pussy on display. Her essence glistens on her lips.
The temptress laughs at my groan but yelps when I snatch her wrist. I lean over her, careful not to graze her with my erection, and come in my pants for the second time. “Open.” I feed her her own pointer and middle fingers, and she swirls them in her mouth. “Coat your fingers good, sweetheart. That’s it.”
I drop her hand and press open her knees. “Scoot back for me. I want your feet on the counter.” She does as she’s told with her fingers still in her mouth. “Look at this pussy, wet and ready for me. Open wider, baby.”
Don’t touch her.
The chant rings in my ears. I clench my fist and swallow the urge to devour the feast in front of me. Ella pulls her feet back to spread her lips apart. Her clit is visible, pulsating on its own.
I close my eyes and take a breath. Tonight is about her. My gaze intertwines with hers, and my heart swells at the gift she offers.
Trust.
Ella has taken back her power every day since her separation. I don’t need to have known her for years to see how much she pours into everyone she loves, to be what they need. If she had a partner who adored her, she would be able to breathe and indulge in what she wants—not as a mom, friend, family member, or wife. As Ella.
