Page 43 of Cherished Lands
Elliot and I had settled into a comfortable enough rhythm. Every morning at sunrise, he woke up from his presumably very uncomfortable night on the couch and made a beeline for the shower. Since he'd always lived alone, he must not have realized how thin the walls were.
Listening to his grunts and groans was the most exquisite torture. As soon as the sounds reached me, my hand would slip into my panties. He had no idea we'd gotten off together four days in a row. And today would be no different.
I wanted more. I wanted his big hand to replace mine as he whispered filthy promises into my ear. I wanted him to tease me to the brink of insanity before taking me over the edge.
But I wouldn't be the one to break.
He hadn't so much as brushed against me in the last week, which was miraculous given the small space we were sharing. He'd made himself scarce in his own home, and part of me feltbad for running him off. The other part wished he'd just man up and confront this god-awful sexual tension.
It wasn't a big deal. We could have sex. It didn't have tomeananything just because we were 'married.' Itwouldn'tmean anything.
I didn'tlikeElliot Everton. He was my husband according to a piece of paper, and that was all.
I did, however, respect the hell out of him. For the past week, we'd been working on the plans for the cidery with Jasper and Natalie—both of whom were shocked as hell when they found out we'd eloped. Elliot was a man of few words, but when he did speak, he was clear, concise, and determined—nothing like he'd been during that disaster of a proposal.
Hank had responded to my father's lawyers with a request for mediation. If Dad knew we had snuck off to get married, he wasn't letting on. We were scheduled for the first session on January sixth, the first Monday of the new year.
Right now, I was more worried about the next thirty-six hours. It was going to be a test of wills. Elliot and I were taking a road trip down to Grand Rapids to meet with Jim.
After his shower.
And our mutual masturbation session.
I was already wide awake when his alarm went off. It was like my body had become attuned to the event and knew it was time to get off.
My kitty was awake and purring.
Elliot silenced his phone almost immediately, and I heard the telltale signs of him stretching and rolling off the couch. This was followed by the inevitable muttered curse when he bumped into some piece of furniture in the dark.
Why a large man chose to live in such a tiny house was truly puzzling.
The shower kicked on, and my mind immediately conjured up the image of Elliot stripping himself bare and climbing into the shower. I pictured him bracing those strong hand on the tiled wall and leaning forward, letting rivulets of water run over his broad shoulders.
My hand slipped under the waistband of my panties, and I ran my fingers through my slick lips. Swiping some of that wetness up to my clit, I began slow and deliberate circles. The tension built quickly, and my core clenched and fluttered.
In my mind's eye, Elliot's large hand was wrapped around his hard cock. I'd never actually seen it, but my imagination was more than happy to fill in the blanks. I could picture it down to the smallest detail: long, thick, and flushed, with a pearlescent bead of pre-cum glistening at the tip. He stroked himself slowly, matching my pace as I continued to rub between my thighs.
It was only when I was on the brink of coming completely undone that I realized the groans and moans that first ignited this need in me four days ago were notably absent.
My hand stilled. I waited, listened, but nothing—and no one—came.
And then the water shut off.
My body was wound tighter than a bowstring. My ruined orgasm was a throbbing ache in my core as I climbed out of bed and made my way down the loft steps.
The sounds of Elliot shuffling through his morning routine continued from behind the closed bathroom door. When heeventually emerged, he found me perched on the arm of the couch, waiting for him.
"Good morning, Husband." My smile was saccharine sweet. "Good shower?"
He raked his eyes over my body, head to toes and back up again. I was wearing nothing but one of his t-shirts and a pair of lace panties. "It was fine."
Fine but not orgasmic. What is the female equivalent of blue balls?
"Peachy. You done in there?" I dipped my chin in the direction of the bathroom.
"Yeah. You want coffee? Gonna run into town before we head out."
"Sure. I'll take a caramel macchiato with?—"
