Sorry I left you like that! Hope this chapter makes up for it!
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I'm pacing. There's really no other way to describe my hectic movement throughout my kitchen living room. I'm too tense to sit down, so I just keep pacing and pacing. I'm tempted to start cleaning, something, but Noah is asleep and I do not need to wake him up right now. At all.
It's only 11 and I still have another fucking hour and it's driving me insane. I keep looking at the clock, like that's going to make time move faster and Jesus, I need to do something. I glance at the wine bottle on top of my fridge and why not? It will relax me, calm my tenseness temporarily, calm my nerves, because fuck, now that I think about it, I'm not only pacing because I'm tense, I'm pacing because I'm nervous. I'm nervous because I'm about to let Elliot Stabler give me an orgasm, and yep, wine is a necessity right now.
When the red cabernet slides down my throat, I sigh in contentment. Definitely a good call, if I say so myself. I debate about changing into something that will make this first moment between us a little more intimate but if I'm dead set on not letting the man see any of my scars yet, I don't really have any other options besides my thin long sleeve and loose silk pajama bottoms. My bra is already off on account to it, literally, being the first thing I take off as soon as Noah is in bed. I'm sure there will come a point where I will start taking it off when he's awake but I just can't see my big breasts loosely hanging in front of my eight year old yet.
I go to sit down on my couch, because according to the clock now, I have 50 minutes and when the fuck did time start going to slow? But when I feel the cotton of my underwear shift against me, I tap my finger lightly on my wine glass. If clothes are staying on, which they are and God, I really hope Elliot is okay with that. Guess that will be the first thing I have to tell him when he gets here and I almost groan from how fucking ridiculous this shit is for me. But I just want a night, a night to feel good in the arms of the man I… okay, I'm not saying that yet, without my trauma ruining it. And since the clothes are staying on, I can at least remove another barrier, right?
So, instead of sitting, I walk back into my bedroom with my glass of wine pitched in my hand and close the door behind me. I've already showered for the night and I'm thankful because I smell like roses and my skin is smooth. When I pull my pajama pants down my legs, my fingers skim across the scar on my thigh and my breath hitches slightly.
It's not fair. Not fair that my skin is branded by a man who has been dead for nine years. Even with him gone, I'm still reminded of him every goddamn day of my life. And the most disgusting thing is that the fucker wanted it that way. He wanted me to always remember him and Jesus, like the memory of him wasn't enough. I still can barely look at myself naked and how fucking wrong, how fucking sick, how fucking sad is that.
My phone buzzes from my nightstand and thank god, thank god for whomever that is right now because I swear I think my heartbeat was starting to quicken. I walk over to it in just my long sleeve and underwear and bite my lip when I see a message from Elliot. I swear it better be a good fucking message because if he can't make it, I going to scream. Literally, going to scream. And probably cry.
When I click on the message and read I'm here, a blow a breath of relief, and nerves, out of my mouth before quickly discarding my underwear in my basket and pulling my pants back on. I mean that's what I came in here to do, so I might as well fucking do it.
I do a once over of myself in my body length mirror hanging on my wall. Why is it here when I hardly even use it because I hardly ever look at myself? I don't fucking know but it is. I almost roll my eyes at how big my breasts are, because they're really fucking large now, although with the way I catch Elliot looking at them, I know he is more than appreciative of the size. My face is bare, my hair is tousled from letting it air dry and it's not like I have any more time now to make myself look more presentable. I'm grabbing my glass of wine off my dresser when my phone buzzes again. Did you fall asleep?
I laugh out loud at that walking down my hallway and have to cover my mouth with my hand. Yeah Stabler, with how tense I just told you I was I was able to fall asleep. I still don't message him back, just walk to my door to unlock it. Luckily Noah is a pretty deep sleeper, for the most part. I think that comes when your mother is a cop and constantly coming and going at random times. So, I'm not really worried about him waking up.
"Hi," I say as I pull the door open for him.
"Hey." He gives me that charming Elliot Stabler smile and God, I can already feel the warmth spread through my veins.
As he steps in I take a moment to just stare at him. He's dressed in his three piece suit and I don't know when this man started wearing three piece suits during his time away from me but fuck, he looks so good in them. I mean, he looks so good in everything, but these suits? Mmm. I must have said that out loud because he's grinning at me and stepping closer. Oops, although if he's stepping closer, it's definitely not an oops. As he reaches behind him to turn the lock with one hand, he reaches for me with his other, wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me to him.
I press against his chest with a hum and Jesus, he feels so good. Since my wine glass is still pitched in my hand I carefully lift both hands to rest on his shoulders, so that my glass is dangling over his shoulder as he wraps both his arms around me.
"You finished fast," I whisper and fuck, just this man pressed against me is making my body tingle. I'm already worked up and I can finally feel my arousal start to leak from me. God, why does he bring my body to life? Actually, I really don't care why, I'm just glad he does.
"I had somewhere I needed to be."
I smile. Because here, he needed to be here with me. My free hand starts rubbing the skin on his neck softly with my fingertips and I can feel him shiver slightly. Elliot Stabler has a sensitive neck and oh, that's definitely going to be fun. "So you rushed it? Are you going to have to do it again?"
He shrugs, starts rubbing the tips of his fingers along my spine and mmm, I love his hands on me. Even through my clothes, it's amazing. "Maybe. But do you really want to talk about my paperwork right now?"
No, I fucking don't. I could care less if he did it correctly or not, he's Bell's to handle at work, not mine. And he knows I don't, so he doesn't even give me a chance to respond. He just leans forward and captures my lips in the most perfect kiss. It's soft and sweet but passionate. Shows me just how much he has missed me these last few weeks, maybe just how much he missed me the whole time he was gone, how much he's wants me, always wanted me.
I'm so consumed in his tongue running along mine, consumed in the small moans leaving the back on my throat, the small groans leaving his and fuck, his groans sound incredible, that I almost forget that my glass of wine is in my hand. He pulls away from me, not too far, just enough to speak, his hand running up my back, over my shoulder to my elbow, "Do you want to finish that?"
I have to take a second to think about what it is exactly that he's asking me. My body is on fire and now, now, my clit wants some friction. My eyes drag up to his and he must see it. Must see how turned on I am. I know he sees it because his eyes darken and he grins. "Is it working already?" He asks, his mouth connecting to mine once more in a series of soft, sweet kisses.
He doesn't mean it in a smug way. He genuinely wants to know if I'm feeling less tense already. If his presence really affects me the way I said it did. I nod against his lips, tilt my head to deepen the kiss and God, I could kiss this man forever. His hands finally drop down to my ass, squeezing my flesh firmly and I really cannot help the guttural moan that escapes my throat when he pulls me more flush against him.
Elliot is a solid four inches taller than me without shoes on so my pelvis makes contact with the space right below his zipper and God, I can feel him again. And I want more. More than just his hands on my ass, and his tongue in my mouth and because we're always so in sync for some goddamn reason, Elliot chooses this moment to slip his thigh between my legs.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. His hands use their leverage on my ass to pull my pelvis hard against his thigh. Oh my God. Oh. My. God. This is not supposed to be this fucking good. Riding his thigh is not supposed to be this good but it is. His thigh is hitting my clit perfectly and thanks to my decision of no underwear, the wetness between my legs is easily assisting in the movement of my loose pants against me. His hands help pull me back and forth against him and shit, I think I can come from this. I want to come from this. I'm not sure how loud I'm moaning but Elliot keeps his lips solidly on mine, releases them enough to allow me to draw in a breath and on one release, I moan "Elliot..." quietly.
"Come on, Olivia." Not only is his voice deep and sexy, he's encouraging me. Encouraging me to fall apart against his strong thigh, in the fucking entryway of my goddamn place. Jesus, we hardly even made it past the front door and I'm already about to shatter.
My wine is still in my hand and I'm really fucking surprised I haven't dropped it yet. I go to wrap my arms tighter around his neck because there is no way in hell I am letting go of him right now and almost groan in frustration on top of the moan at the jolt of pleasure that just shot through me when the glass hits the back of his neck.
His leg presses more firmly against me and I have to stop myself from calling out at the added pressure. His left hand leaves my ass, which is not okay because that's what was fucking aiding in the friction I need to reach my impending orgasm right now and I am about to curse him, when I feel his hand trying to pull my arm from around his neck. Our lips are still inches from one another and he groans, "Don't stop. Just let me free you of the glass." The hand that is still on my ass, the one still assisting in the movement and friction of my hips, grips my ass harder and pulls me against him tighter to try to compensate for the loss of the one and Jesus, he's really trying to make my come. His focus is on solely trying to figure out what I need and giving it to me and fuck.
I moan, I guess a little too loudly by Elliot's whispered "shh" against my lips, and right, we're not fucking alone right now. I drop my hand enough to let him take the glass and wrap both my hands solidly around his neck. Let my fingers dig into his flesh. My nipples are aroused and, I'm sure, taut under my shirt and when they scrape against the hard plane of his vest just right, a stronger jolt of pleasure goes through me. I'm not sure how he set the glass down so quickly but his hand is back on my ass in no time and his lips are back to kissing mine.
I'm on fire. My whole fucking body is on fire. The pleasure is rolling through me in waves and I just need... fuck, I don't know what I need. But I need something else to help me fall. He must know this, must be able to feel that I'm right there, my body tense from being right on the fucking edge, because his lips pull from mine to drag along my jaw. Yes, this is exactly what I need.
He places open mouth kisses along my jaw, all the way to my ear, where he once again whispers, once again encourages me, "Come on, Liv. I got you," before he sucks my earlobe in his mouth, and Jesus Christ. My thighs clench around his leg and I try to bite my lip so that I don't moan too loud. He groans quietly, the sound making my body vibrate in tune with it and then his eager lips are moving down, catching the skin right under my ear and fuck, Elliot is not the only with an overly sensitive neck. He sucks, licks, bites, moves my hips faster against him, grinds his thigh harder against me and when his teeth catch that spot right in the middle of my neck perfectly, all that tenseness, the tenseness I've suffered from for 24 fucking years, releases inside of me.
My hands grip the back of his head, my body arches in his arms and my mouth falls open against his shoulder so I can muffle the sound of my release. I hear him groan a, "That's it, baby," against my skin. It ruptures from my clit outward, to the tips of my toes, to the top of my head and every ounce of pain this man has ever caused me releases with it. My body is shaking from how intense, how healing the moment is and Jesus Christ, we're still fully fucking clothed. Fully clothed and he just made me come like that.
I'm breathing deeply against his shoulder and I soak in the way his lips take a soothing motion against my neck, in the way his hands slow the movement of my hips, in the way he allows my body to fall fully against him. Once my hips have stilled, his hands move up my back, one stilling in between my shoulders blades, the other threading through my hair to tilt my head back just enough to look into my eyes.
I must look satisfied. I know I look satisfied, because fuck, that was the best orgasm I've had in years. Burton hadn't even come close to topping that and he was… nope, I am not thinking of that fucking pervert right now. I'm not thinking of him ever again. And if that's what this man's thigh can do fully clothed, what the hell is he capable of doing with more skin to skin contact? And why am I little terrified to find out? But fuck, I'm terrified in the best way.
He grins at me, leans forward to place a sweet kiss against my lips and I cannot help the hum of satisfaction that escapes my mouth at the contact. My body is still slightly trembling from the power behind my orgasm and I use the feeling of his hand rubbing against my spine to get it to soothe.
"Thank you," I whisper against his lips because God, I fucking needed that, so bad.
"Mmm," he hums, once more using his grip on my hair to pull me back slightly, "You never have to thank me for that. Never."
I smile at him and since I know I must have most of my bearings back, I step away from him just enough to take hold of his hand. I'm satisfied and sedated, already. I haven't slept much these last few nights and all I want now is to take him to my room, take care of him, and fall asleep in his arms. So I pull him slowly down the hallway with those intentions.
"Stay the night with me?" I ask as we cross the doorway to my room.
"There's nowhere I'd rather be."
He shuts the door behind him, locks it and fuck, I could stand a change of pants to be honest but he, by the impressive bulge in his pants, could stand a fucking release. But right when I'm about to offer to help, he clears his throat. "I'm going to use the bathroom real quick."
Oh. God, why is this man such a gentleman? I haven't even told him I want to go slow and he already assumes that I do. And Jesus, that makes going slow even harder. "I can help," I whisper, my hand reaching out to run across him. Well that's my intention but his hand stops mine midair.
"I just wanted to take care of you, Liv." His eyes rake along my body and I swear he settles them on the perk nipples straining in my shirt. They go from semi normal, to dark once more and fuck, what the hell just went on in this man's head. I feel my nipples tighten even more, feel more arousal seep from me. His arms reach for me, wrap around my waist, pull me flush against him once more and shit. "Do you want more?"
God. I can feel myself throb once at those words and a small moan escapes my throat. But if I'm going to allow more, I should probably lay down my ground rules so he knows and so there's no confusion, "I want to go slow."
"Okay. Anything you want, Liv." His body is slowly backing mine up to my mattress and holy shit.
I walk with him because God, I want to come again. My body is humming with just the thought of another orgasm but he needs to understand what I'm saying right now. "I mean… I want to leave my clothes on." My clothes. His can come off. That's no fucking problem, well at least his shirt but mine need to stay on a little while longer.
"Okay. We can do that."
"You're sure?" I don't know why I'm questioning him. It's already been established that the man is a gentleman, so I don't know why I'm doubting him.
We've already made it to the edge of my bed, the back of my knees hitting it and he leans down to kiss my lips before encouraging me to sit down, "Of course, I'm sure. We'll do whatever you want to do, Olivia." My heart flutters at his words and it's nice. It's nice to have my boundaries respected without having to give an explanation. He just accepts that those are my rules for tonight and he'll respect them completely.
I lean forward to kiss him deeply, don't release him even when he's fumbling to get his shoes off his feet. And as he fumbles, I reach between us to start unbuttoning this fucking vest he has on. His shoes come off before I've completed my mission and he's pushing me down on my back and using his hands on my ass to pull me up enough so he can settle between my thighs. I moan into his mouth because fuck, this is where I've always wanted him to be.
He's obviously hard in his pants and when his groin makes contact with my center, I can't help but buck hard against him. Fuck me, right now. He feels so good and with nothing but my pajama pants on as a barrier, I can feel everything. He groans with the contact, uses his hands on my ass once more to assist me in getting the friction I need and goddamn, I need his shirt off.
I'm still fumbling with the buttons of… something. Whether it be his vest or shirt, I'm not sure but I want to run my hands along his muscular chest, want to dig my nails into his bare shoulders, so I rip my mouth from his, "I want this off."
He must be set on giving me everything I want tonight, probably every night from here on out to be honest, because he sits up just enough to keep his erection still firmly against my most sensitive spot and almost rips his shirt off trying to get it off quickly. The man is built like a God, always has been. But age his made him more fit, has persuaded him to stay longer hours in the gym and fuck, the muscles chiseled in his chest are fucking incredible. I take a moment to run my hands up his abs, along his pecs, my thumbs intentionally finding his nipples and the groan he releases makes me clench. My thighs quickly squeezing his hips.
He likes that. Likes knowing that I'm clenching for him because he grins and groans, drapes his body further against mine to connect his lips to my neck. His hands are settled back on my hips and I can feel the moment one of them starts to drift higher. God yes, Elliot.
"Are there any other rules for now?" I can barely hear his question, his words mumbled by my skin in his mouth.
I'm so consumed in the pleasure rolling through me again that I barely understand the question and when my teeth sink into his neck because fuck, I want to explore his as thoroughly as he's exploring mine he groans, rocks into me harder and somehow elaborates on what he just asked. "Besides leaving your clothes on, do you have any other rules, Liv?"
I moan a quiet, "No," into his neck. If it wasn't for my scars, I'm sure I'd be halfway naked by now, no matter how slow I wanted to go and I'm open to anything as long as they don't come off right now.
He must like that answer because he once more groans loudly and then his hand is finally, finally, enclosing over my barely covered breasts. His thumb and forefinger finding my nipple instantly and giving it a firm tug. Jesus, my breasts have always been sensitive. Always. I used to be able to come alone from nipple play if a man paid them the proper attention, although those men are really hard to come by. After Lewis, I've never liked them touched much. But shit, how I've missed it.
He's tugging them in tune with the sucking on that spot, with the rolling of his hips and oh god, I'm going to come again. He groans against my neck and yeah, I said that out loud. My fingers dig into his shoulders, my feet plant firmly on the mattress so I can arch my hips hard against him and fuck, his hard on is knocking into my clit perfectly. When the pleasure erupts this time, I forget to bury my head into his shoulder. Luckily Elliot is quick and releases my hip for my head to pull my mouth hard against his neck to catch the strangled "ELLIIOOOTT," that escapes.
My hips jolt against him, my arousal seeps out of me again and shit, I cannot remember the last time I've been so fucking wet. He groans deeply against my neck and I think he's close, I know he's close. So, I try to roll my hips against his, try to put pressure right on his hard cock that his straining in his slacks but he's moving his hips from me instantly, sliding his body down and oh shit.
I haven't even recovered from the orgasm I just had when his mouth is around my nipple through my shirt. "Fuck, El…" His tongue laves on one, his palm squeezing my flesh completely, his fingers pinch the other and goddamn. His mission really is to destroy me tonight. Destroy me as much as he can with the barriers I'm insisting stay between us.
"Elliot…" I once again whisper and I watch his eyes roll up to look at me.
"This okay?" He mumbles and I love that he keeps asking every time he thinks I may be uncomfortable with something.
But uncomfortable is the last think I am feeling right now. I feel incredible, feel sexy even in my pajamas, feel wanted and loved. And God, it's been so long since I've felt any of those things. I nod and whisper the only word that comes to mind, "More." I've already come twice and he hasn't come once and I definitely feel a little selfish but he's the one who keeps prying his hips from me. I'll take care of him after this one. I will.
He grins at me around my nipple, pulls as much of me as he can into his mouth and then one of his hands is leaving my breast to slide in between our bodies and fuck.
I have to remember to keep breathing as his hand slides down my stomach and when his teeth catch my nipple I hiss sharply. This was not supposed to be this intense tonight. It wasn't. It was just supposed to be some dry humping, enough to get me to come and I Iiterally feel like we're having sex with our clothes on right now. There's hardly anything covering my center, so when his hand makes contact with the, what I already know, wet material between my legs, he groans.
"Jesus, Olivia. You're so wet." It only takes him a second to realize my lack of clothing underneath these pants because as soon as his thumb makes contact with my clit, his eyes darken against my own.
I smile seductively at him and Jesus, when was the last fucking time I've looked seductive for anyone. I'm just grateful that my body is working how it's supposed to be working and since I really don't want him to stop, I arch my hips against his hand. I'm still throbbing and yeah, I want him to rub one more out of me with his fingers.
He takes the hint, gives me that sexy ass grin and he is so fucking fine. I can't remember the last time I referred to someone as fine either but goddamn, this man is fine. His teeth catch my nipple once more, his thumb presses hard against my clit and when he doesn't move it, I look down at him in question.
He gives me that grin once more, releases my breast and pulls himself up enough to connect his lips back onto mine. It's another long, sensual kiss and my hips start rocking against his hand on their own accord.
Then he's pulling himself from my lips to whisper, "Show me what you like, Liv."
Fuck. I'm not sure how I'm exactly supposed to show him with the current way we're doing this. I can rock myself against his hand, which is what he's asking me to do and okay, I can do that. I reach down to his wrist, move further down to his fingers to place them as perfectly as they can go against me with these goddamn pants on, and that's it, we are definitely having the trauma conversation before we do this again because these fucking clothes need to come off. His thumb is against my clit and his index finger is pressed against my opening and fuck, I'm clenching with the need to be filled by something. Next time. I press his hand further against me and moan in satisfaction because even though my pants are in the way, he's affectively inside of me the most he can be.
He's groans, twirls his finger just a tad to let me feel him and grins at the way I buck against him. Okay, asshole. I rock my hips against his hand and Jesus, it feels so good. So I do it again and again, rotate my hips in a circle slightly and it really, surprisingly, doesn't take me long to figure out a perfect rhythm. As soon as I find it I moan is name quietly and he asks, "Like that?"
"Mmhmm, yes, yes, yes…" My hips rock harder against him because fuck, I need more penetration dammit and then he's moving. His whole hand is moving. His thumb is rubbing circles in tune to the movement of my hips and his finger is thrusting as much as it can. His free hand comes to settle on my stomach, pushing against me hard enough to still my own movements. Oh. He wants to get me there himself. Works for me. I'm perfectly content just sitting here and enjoying my climb.
Elliot has always been passionate, devoted, to everything he's done. The reason why he has such a bad temper is because he cares, so fucking much. And to be on the receiving end of that passion, that devotion, is almost overwhelming. His eyes are trained on mine like he never wants to take them off of me. They're full of heat and… love. Fuck, this man loves me. I can see it, I can feel it and God…
It only takes one more thrust of fingers to send me spiraling and I thought the last two were intense. With his eyes trained on mine, literally trained on mine because I can't seem to tear mine away from his, I come. Hard.
My body arches, my toes curl, my mouth falls agape on a silent scream and my lungs burn from the effort that shit takes. He leans forward to try to capture my lips, to muffle my moans but it's really no use because my mouth is set agape from how good it feels. I feel the l pleasure everywhere and God, everything is fucking tingling.
It's been a while since I've been this satisfied. Who knew Elliot Stabler would never even have to remove my clothes to satisfy me so well. I'm sedated, my body is fully relaxed and god, I am so ready to go to sleep.
I want to take care of him, I'm supposed to take care of him but Elliot seems to have no regard for his own problem because he's already readjusting my almost limp body on my mattress. So that my head is situated on my pillows and my body is covered with my blankets. God, I really forgot how tired orgasms make me and I just had three. My eyes are drifting shut, on their own accord and I try, so hard to force them back open, "You…" I whisper. My eyes once again falling to his bulge in his pants.
He smiles at me, kisses my lips gently, "I told you I just wanted to take care of you."
"Yeah, but I want to take care of you…" I don't even know how I'm still stringing together complete sentences to be honest. My mind is a post orgasmic haze. And fuck, my pillow feels so good right now.
"Next time, Liv. Sleep. I'll be right back to hold you."
I know where he's going but I'm too exhausted to try to fight him anymore. So I let him go, with the promise that next time I will not only take care of him, I will also take my clothes all the way off.
Next time.