Page 82 of Gamble
“Much better,” he murmured as she finally settled into his arms. The fingers from his right hand gravitated to cup her breast while his left hand snuck between her thighs, massaging close to her core.
His touch was definitely sexual, yet the pressure felt more like a massage. She could feel the pent-up stress of the last month starting to seep out of her body as they spent a few minutes just enjoying the quiet perfection of the summer evening—him intimately touching while she buried her face into his neck, taking in his masculine scent as the scruff of his beard tickled her nose.
Elijah’s husky voice broke the peaceful silence. “God, I’ve missed touching you like this.” As if to prove his point, he pinched the tip of her nipple gently, pulling a groan of desire from her lips.
The combination of the evening air and Elijah’s hands exploring her body made Reagan feel like she was melting. When his lips found that sensitive spot on her neck, she let out a soft moan that seemed to echo in the quiet backyard.
“I want to repay you,” he said against her skin, “for everything you’ve done for me this week. For taking such good care of me.”
“You don’t owe me anything,” Reagan protested breathlessly.
“Don’t I?” His voice held that commanding edge again. “I seem to remember promising you twelve orgasms back in Vegas. By my count, I still owe you at least four, and that doesn’t even count the million I owe you for hurting you so badly after my accident.”
The memory of that promise back in Vegas, and everything that had followed, helped ease more of the lingering hurt that remained buried inside her. Pushing aside the pain of his initial rejection, Reagan instead focused on the reasons he’d pushed her away.
He’d cared. As misplaced as his intentions had been, she knew without a shadow of a doubt that Elijah had been trying to spare her. It had been his own insecurities—not her own—that had had him pulling away from her.
Desire pooled low in her belly, chasing away the lingering fear of being hurt again. As his hands grew bolder, more purposeful, Reagan found herself arching into his touch. His hand snaked between her legs, his fingers brushing against her clit.
Reagan gasped with pent-up pleasure as his fingers added pressure—pinching and stroking her sensitive nub until she was sure she would combust from the heat—both internal and external. Her eyes fluttered closed as she laid her head against his hard chest, letting the pleasure of his touch wash over her.
Just as she was ready to tip into an orgasm, Elijah moved those talented fingers lower, cupping her throbbing pussy before thrusting several fingers deep inside her, curling them perfectly as his dirty words pushed her over the edge.
“Come for me, baby. Squeeze my fingers tight.”
A ripple of pure pleasure consumed her, leaving Reagan gasping and clinging to Elijah as pleasure washed over her in waves. The combination of his dirty words and skilled touch left her feeling lightheaded from the intensity of being intimate with him again. She only wished it had been his cock she could feel poking her that had been inside her.
After coming down from her high, Elijah reached to the nearby snack tray on the side table. He plucked several grapes up and lift them to her lips. “You need to eat, baby.”
For several minutes they shared the snacks Reagan had prepared, feeding each other grapes and cheese while exchanging soft kisses and lazy caresses. Her first orgasm had only been an appetizer. With each passing moment, her need grew.
She decided to take things into her own hands. “It’s my turn to take care of you, and I don’t mean your hip,” Reagan said softly with a sly smile as she worked to extricate herself from his arms. Elijah held her tight, not wanting to release her but she was persistent, finally sliding from the couch to kneel at his feet.
The brick patio was hard on her knees until Elijah grabbed the padded cushion from the nearby chair and threw it to the ground for her to kneel on.
“Thanks,” she said, wiggling to insert the cushion beneath her knees.
“It’s the least I can do considering you’re about to swallow my cock.” His eyes lit up with that mischievous grin she loved.
“Pretty sure of yourself there, aren’t you sport? Maybe I’m just kneeling here to get a better look at your injuries,” she teased, enjoying the light-hearted teasing that had been so absent in the last week.
“Baby, you can get up close and personal for that better look any time you’d like.” To prove his point, Elijah spread his legs wider, giving her better access to his body.
His cock was already at full attention—long, thick, and hard. She tentatively reached out to wrap her fingers around his girth, drawing a long, guttural growl as she lightly stroked him. Impossibly, his shaft grew harder with each passing second.
Reagan studied his face, feeling powerful as she witnessed the power her touch had over Elijah. He’d closed his eyes, throwing his head back against the cushioned chair as she enjoyed watching his handsome face reflecting the pleasure her now fast-moving hand was providing.
Without warning, she leaned forward, wrapping her lips around the top of his shaft while swiping her tongue across the tip, tasting the saltiness of the drop of precum that had already pooled.
Elijah’s hips bucked up from the couch, thrusting his cock deeper into her mouth as he called, “Christ, that feels amazing. Don’t stop, baby.”
His fingers wove through her long hair, gripping her bobbing head as she replaced her fingers with her mouth down the length of his cock. With each downward movement, she felt his hardness crashing against the back of her throat. She was tempted to panic as she started to get lightheaded from the lack of oxygen, but as if he could read her thoughts, Elijah used his hands to lift her higher, giving her short reprieves to catch her breath between the increasingly fast and furious throat-fucking.
Tears of exertion flooded her eyes even as snot fell from her nose and spittle from hardworking mouth. She was sure her mascara had to be running streaks down her face while the obscene sounds of her excursion filled the air.
She probably looked like a hot mess, but instead of feeling embarrassed, an odd calmness washed over her instead. They may not be at Black Light or in a hard-core BDSM scene, but even in her precarious state, she recognized the joy of her submission at the moment. On her knees… servicing the dominant man before her. She’d never felt this free.
“Eyes,” Elijah growled.
