The weeks go by quickly, but the months are slow. Since she started seeing Elliot, her world has been turned upside down. As with anything, there are some parts of the experience that she loves—the shift in their dynamic and waking up in his arms. But there are some changes she could do without. She thinks about him all the time. That's nothing new. But she misses him in a way she's never had to. Between his transfer to homicide and her working late to pick up the slack, they hardly saw each other. Nevertheless, pursuing her partner was a package deal, and she'd rather have it all, than go back to the way things were.
Despite the newness of their romance, a lot of the relationship comes naturally. History often lends itself to habit. It's not boring, however. There's a certain comfort she gleans from having a routine with him: she revels in the sweet simplicity of his hazy silhouette bent over her bathroom sink, brushing his teeth, while she showers. It's something she's never really had. Even as a child, stability was something to be sought after. It was never just a given. Every once in a while, though, Elliot surprises her by finding some new way to sweep her off her feet. This morning, she awoke to breakfast in bed. Usually, he'd be long gone by the time she got up, but he had taken the morning off.
She yawns and stretches her arms over her head, sitting up to a tray of burnt toast and strong black coffee. She carefully takes a sip of the steaming bitter liquid, as he sits down on the next to her and traces the curve of her hip with his fingertips. She smiles lazily and glances down at his hand.
"Shit!" She half-whispers, noticing his watch. She quickly moves the tray off to the side, and springs out of bed, heading for the closet. "I have to be in court in a half hour," she calls out, pulling Elliot's undershirt up over her head while she walks.
He smiles to himself, enjoying the show. His eyes travel up the back of her toned legs to the black lace boy shorts that fit snugly around her hips and allow for the plump cheeks of her ass to peak out the bottom. She disappears inside the closet and after a moment, she carelessly tosses the scrap of lace out the door, in Elliot's general direction.
He's instantly hard.
She reappears after a few moments, wearing a black lace bra and a pencil skirt. One eye scans the room for an acceptable pair of shoes, as the other one closes in concentration, trying to wiggle a back onto one of her pearl earrings.
The smirk on his face catches her eye.
"What's so funny?" She calls over her shoulder, turning and heading for the bathroom.
He bites back a laugh; his grin growing as he glances down at his watch. "Daylight savings," he chuckles. "You've got an hour to kill."
She stops dead in her tracks and drops her hands to her sides. She spins around on her heel, and walks towards the bed.
"You ass," she says, trying to stifle her own laughter. She reaches out, swats him across the back of the head, and folds her arms across her chest.
"Maybe." He says cockily. "But I bet I can make it up to you."
Before she can protest, his hands wrap around her middle as he hoists her over his shoulder and strides toward the bathroom.
"Elliot, what the hell are you doing?" She squeals.
"Making it up to you," he says, brusquely, moving his palm from her ass up to her back, as he gently lowers her to sit on the toilet.
He quickly divests himself of his black boxer briefs and she exhales sharply as he opens the glass door to the shower and fiddles with the knob until the room billows with steam.
She gets to her feet and reaches around to unfasten her bra and shimmy out of her skirt.
He turns to face her, and notices she's still sporting a sexy little g-string. "Off." He commands, pointing a shaky finger at the tiny scrap of fabric covering her nether regions.
She shakes her head, a wicked grin plastered on her face. "You."
He closes his eyes and thanks his lucky stars. He doesn't know how he ever got to be so lucky. He moves into her and plants a deep, sensual kiss on her full lips. She closes her eyes and leans into the kiss. She's so distracted by the intensity of her arousal, fueled by his sudden brazenness; she doesn't even notice when he hooks a thumb under each of the strings on her hips, tugs, and lets her panties drop to the floor.
He pulls away for a brief moment and guides her to step out of her underwear, toward the shower.
When she opens her eyes, he takes her wrist in his hand, and balls up her panties, bringing them to his mouth.
"I love the way you taste when you want me," he growls, flashing her a gleaming smile, the lace between his teeth.
She lets out a desperate sigh and pulls him into the shower. The water is hot, but she doesn't care. She turns her back to her lover.
"You know I want it," she confirms, pushing her ass back into him. She lets out a seductive laugh. "You're a naughty boy, teasing me like this."
He moans, sucking her innermost flavors from the fabric.
His mouth opens and her panties drop to the shower floor. She bends over and he playfully swats her ass.
It stings, but she loves it. Her eyes narrow and she licks her lips as he brings his palm down against her other cheek, hard, this time, splaying his fingertips over the reddening globes. He lines himself up, sinks into her with a hiss, and slaps the tender flesh again as he pushes himself deeper into her.
She's wet and tight around him, and the smoldering look in her eyes as she peers over her shoulder at him is too much. He slides his hand around to slip a finger into her pink folds and toy with her clit.
She sighs deeply when he finds a rhythm that works for her, sliding his other hand up her torso and bringing her back up against him as he pushes up and into her. She turns her head and claims his lips in a wet open-mouthed kiss, letting out a surprised moan when his finger applies just the right amount of pressure to make her see stars. Her eyes widen as he pursues the kiss, while she's climaxing.
Her body is convulsing and she's so tight, it's damn near impossible for him to keep thrusting. But he'll make her come again, he thinks, even if he has to get on his knees and do it with his mouth.
He's still sliding his thick fingers over the slick bundle of nerves, when her toes curl. She feels the lace of her panties under her feet, and slaps her hand to the tile to steady herself against the wall, while Elliot pounds into her at a punishing pace. She inhales a cloud of steam and lets out a strangled cry, pulling his wrist up from her core. It's too much. Being with this man has always been too much, and somehow, not enough at the same time.
His fingertips dance along the sensitive skin above the strip of thick, damp curls and she swats his hand away. She'd trust the man with her life, but his hands have a mind of their own when they're on her body. Just a few inches south, and her knees will give out. He can't touch her there—not again—not yet. She pulls his fingers up to her mouth to distract him. She licks them gently letting out a quiet moan, without breaking eye contact.
It sends shockwaves straight to his dick, but he won't cum yet, he needs to feel her release again.
His eyes slip shut and his free hand slides up, over her wet flesh, until he reaches one of her nipples. He runs his palm over it, and pinches it between his fingers.
There's a simmering burn, deep in the pit of her stomach. She can feel it growing.
God, this man knows how to push her buttons.
He pulls his fingers from her mouth and she bites her lip as he gently tugs on her other nipple. Her orgasm surges through her like a rocket, and she's screaming.
"Fuck—fu—OH GOD, yes, Elliot! Right there, baby…ooooh."
She purses her lips and squeezes her eyes shut, trying to bite back the animalistic groan that threatens to escape when he moves his lips to her neck and drags his teeth along her damp skin.
She comes down from her peak and he's still moving in and out of her. She tips her head back to rest against his shoulder, and smiles weakly. She doesn't know how he's still standing, after what he's just done to her body—nevermind the fact that he was still thoroughly engaged in the dance of their hot lovemaking. Her knees are week but he's got her.
Olivia's body is wrecked and her limbs feel like jell-o, but he still feels so good inside her, stretching and filling her. She knows his release can't be far off, but for now, she's happy to get lost in the erotic slap of his flesh against hers, the water beating down on them as he thrust.