Okay... definitely a different route than it was supposed to be. BUT... I'm still loving it.
Lucy picks up Noah at eight. Promises him a weekend full of activities and God, I am so thankful for this woman. I hand her an envelope full of cash and although she tries to refuse it, taking him for the weekend is of no problem for her, I insist she takes it anyways. Even if it's just to use on their activities for the next few days.
Elliot had said not to eat, which is crap, because I'm already hungry and I guess I'm breaking that agreement already. He's not due here for another 30 minutes, so I dig through the snack cabinet for a granola bar. I'm just about to take a bite of it when there's a knock on my door and when I see him standing there through my peephole, I smile. I guess he couldn't wait anymore to see me and I am not complaining.
I open the door with a full mouth and he mugs me playfully, "I said not to eat."
I roll my eyes at him, step aside for him to step in, "I'm always starving in the morning. It's just a granola bar. You want one?"
"Sure."
Yeah, I'm not the only one hungry already. I walk to my kitchen, reach up in the cabinet to grab him one and when I turn back around, his eyes are directly downcast towards my ass. "Really?"
He grins, brings his eyes slowly back to mine, "What? It looks good in jeans."
This is the first time we've been alone in weeks, months, if you want to be specific, and I can see the pure want on his face. It makes my heart beat quicken, makes my body tingle, makes that warmth spread throughout my veins and settle in the apex of my thighs and goddamn. I throw the bar in his direction because if I don't, I feel like he's about to stalk towards me and the next time this man gets his hands on me, really gets his hands on me, I want my clothes to come off dammit.
He barely catches it, almost drops it and I can't help the laugh that escapes my mouth. "You could have warned me, Benson."
"Yeah, well stop staring at my ass and pay attention."
"It's a nice ass though."
Oh my God. What the fuck did I get myself into with this man? I squint my eyes at him and when he only shrugs because he is not backing down this weekend, I groan quietly. I contemplate having the Lewis conversation already because really, I need this man naked, I really fucking do, but I have a plan to keep my panic at a minimum and I need to stick with that plan.
I go to walk around him to grab my sweater because we need to get out of my place before we don't leave but he's quick. Really quick because his arm is wrapping around my waist to pull me to him before I even have time to think. I tilt my chin up, he tilts his chin down, and fuck it. I can kiss him, we just can't have sex, yet.
When our lips connect we both seem to sigh into the contact and deepen the kiss at the same time. His tongue swipes against my bottom lip, my mouth opens and God, this man and his lips and his tongue. Mmm. Yeah, that moan is definitely released into his mouth. His hands move to my ass, the ass he is very much appreciative of apparently, to pull me more flush against him. My hands hold his cheeks, wrap around his head, my fingers dig into the muscles of his neck and fuck.
He squeezes the flesh of my ass and Jesus, I've never wanted someone so fucking badly. The growling of my stomach makes him chuckle against my lips and, I mean, I did tell him I was always hungry in the morning. He gives my ass one more squeeze, kisses me lightly once more, "Come on. Let's go get you fed."
I don't know how the fuck we're going to eat when I'm wet and he's... hard. But I have a feeling that's how we're both going to be this whole fucking weekend. So might as well get used to it. As I release myself from his hold to grab my sweater, I say, "I want a bomb ass omelet."
He's already bending down to grab my bags off the ground and my God, that ass, and says, "I know just the place."
EO
When he said he knew a place, I thought he was kidding. But this omelet I'm currently eating? Bomb. And the coffee actually isn't bad either. Even he's on his second cup and I know how much of a stickler he is about his coffee now.
"So, you're really not going to tell me where we're going?" I ask him as I bring my cup to my lips.
"No, I'm not."
I huff and he chuckles and I'm glad he's getting enjoyment out of torturing me.
"Hey, the only request you had was that it had a bed and I guarantee you, it has a bed."
"Mmm, good. You know, we could have just stayed at my place. I don't really think we're going to be leaving the bed that often anyways."
He almost about chokes on the mouthful of coffee in his mouth and I kept help but laugh. "Olivia." I love it when he uses his warning voice with me. It is so goddamn sexy.
"Hmm?" He's not the only one who can do the seducing. It's been a while but there's in inner sex goddess inside of me that is screaming to be reborn. And Jesus, she's going to destroy him just like he's going to destroy me.
"Are you finished eating?" He asks and those eyes.
"Why? You in a rush to get somewhere?"
His eyes darken even more, "Yeah. I need you naked on a bed a soon as possible. And we have about a six hour drive ahead of us, so..."
"A six hour drive!" I was not expecting to be sitting in the car for so long. What the hell am I gonna do for six hours?
"You told me to pick, Liv."
"Yeah, well I'm not letting you do that again."
He laughs, gestures for our bill, "Do you want a box?"
I still can't over the fact that I'm about to be planted in the passenger seat for six fucking hours. I should have brought a book, or something. God, at least knowing the drive time would have been nice. "Six hours."
He chuckles once more, tells the waitress I would like a box and I guess we're going on a fucking road trip.
EO
By hour two, I'm bored. There's really no other way to say it. Elliot has been letting me control the music, we've been talking about our kids, his mother, the Wheatleys, I have even told him about the new book I've started but didn't bring. And God, I'm bored. I'm trying to focus on our conversation, trying to enjoy the scenery, trying to bask in the moment that I'm finally taking a little vacation and with Elliot for that matter. But every time I look at him, I just want to ravish him and it's not cool, completely not cool, that he decided to pick somewhere so far.
"Take a nap," he offers and am I really being that obvious with my fidgeting right now?
I click my tongue on the roof of my mouth to think. I guess a nap wouldn't be that bad of an idea. And it will make the time go faster, so I huff, only lightly, reach down to pull my shoes off and push my seat back more, before settling myself deeper into my seat. I give him one last glance, smile at him because, I don't fucking know, I'm a goddamn teenager I guess and close my eyes.
I'm not sure if I fall asleep or not but I become hyper aware of his hand on my thigh as soon as he places it on there. I open my eyes slowly, bring my eyes down to where his hand is resting on my mid-thigh, bring them back up to look at him and his eyes are straight on the road, his one hand is controlling the wheel, his finger tapping against it in tune to the song that's on and it seems innocent enough. I mean, the man does like to touch. So I rest my hand on top of his, because if he can touch I can too, and close my eyes once more.
I know I fall asleep this time because I feel myself slowly regaining consciousness of my surroundings. The bumps of the road, the low tune of the music, the feeling of his warm palm under mine, the heat against my thigh. Except now it's not my middle thigh, it's my upper thigh, very upper thigh, and with how large his hand is, his thumb wraps around my outer thigh, while his four other fingers wrap around my inner thigh. I can feel the heat of his fingers in the spot where my thigh meets my most intimate area and shit. Did he move it up or do I? Does it really even fucking matter?
I bring my eyes to his face again but he's once more staring straight ahead. His fingers still tapping away and is he shitting me right now? I get my answer almost instantly when his pinky moves out just enough to rub against my center lightly and goddamn, I almost jump out of my skin.
"El!"
"What?"
I can see the smirk on his face and this asshole. I'm going to kill him. When he moves his pinky along me again, I whimper. Because fuck, it's been a really long time since he's touched me and we've already established I have trouble pleasing myself now. And even through my jeans it's sending little jolts of pleasure and he needs to knock it off. Right now. "Quit it!"
"Do you really want me to quit it?"
Yup. We're going to kill one another this weekend. We really fucking are. "You're driving."
"So? You think I can't keep my eyes on the road?"
"And what? You think you can make me come through my jeans?"
He grins, that wide, fucking tooth grin and shit. "Maybe. You can let me try."
"Let you try while you're driving?"
"I can keep my eyes on the road. You don't have to worry about that." His fingers are inching closer, his pinky keeps periodically swiping against me and I am not allowing this to happen. I'm not.
"Elliot..." it's a warning. But a weak one and I hate that I have no fucking restraint with this man. I mean this is what this weekend was supposed to be about though, right? It's supposed to be the last step into our romantic relationship. But that doesn't mean we have to fool around on the way there... also doesn't mean that we can't. Fuck.
"I'm not going to be able to come," I say as take hold of his hand to place it right in between my legs. I don't know if he's trying to prove something or if he just wants to try to make me feel good, either way I can almost guarantee that he's not gonna get me to orgasm through my jeans. But, it will feel good regardless.
When he looks at me quickly and smiles, I remove his hand just as quickly, "Eyes on the road. That's your only warning."
His eyes are already back on the road by the time those words leave my mouth and he nods, "Yes, Captain."
God. He really likes the rank card. And I really like it too. It's definitely going to be fun. I guide his hand back to the apex of my thighs, give it an encouraging squeeze, because if he's going to attempt to do this, he better give it his all dammit, and relax back into my seat.
He's gentle at first, his touch feather like, which doesn't really do a whole lot but it feels nice anyways. I sigh, turn my head some to watch his face and the man is so concentrated. His eyes are on the road in front of him, his hand is applying more pressure against me and if he actually makes me come like this, I may forever be at his mercy.
He can't look at me, which means he can't read me, and I know it's throwing him off some. He must be concentrating on the noises I'm making because when I moan a little louder at the press of his thumb against my clit, he goes back to find that spot again. It's evident that he not only likes to please, but that he's also a fast learner and it excites me that I will be able to teach him what I like without him being offended. Because some men do not like being told that they're doing something wrong. And I already know, Elliot will not be one of them.
He finds a really good pressure against my clit, uses the seam of my jeans to try to add more friction but although it's shooting sparks of pleasure up my core, it's not going to be enough to make me come. The buildup is there but to make me actually fall? I need a little more friction. I'm cursing myself for not choosing the leggings I was contemplating on wearing today because with those, it could have happened.
I let him try for a little longer but when it becomes very evident to me that it's not going to happen, I squeeze his wrist in a stopping manner.
"Not working?" He asks, his thumb releasing its pressure against me so his hand can't grasp my thigh once more.
"It feels good but definitely not gonna get there. Thanks for trying though." I shift my hips a little on the seat and damn, I didn't even realize how wet I am again. The cotton of my undies slide against me easily and fuck, I really want him to...
"You know, we could, I could..." He groans at himself and it makes me laugh lightly. A grown ass man can't even say what he wants us to do. Him to do?
"What, El?" He started saying something, he could at least finish it.
"I mean, I can, you can, I... fuck."
Oh my God. The man has already proven he can please me even with my clothes on and whatever he's trying to ask me, he can't even say. He's nervous. Elliot Stabler is nervous. Of course he's nervous. He's, essentially, only slept with Kathy. I mean, I know the Albanian broad was thrown in there, but he wasn't really himself at that point. So really, there's only ever been Kathy. And I'm not judging the woman and I will never speak ill of the dead, but something tells me their sex life? Was really fucking vanilla. And our sex life, if I have it my way, our way, will never fucking be vanilla.
"You can what, Elliot?" Because what it is, he wants to do it. This much I know.
I watch him bite his lip, watch him take a deep breath and Jesus, this alone is making me more wet. I can feel myself leaking out of me. He better say something really fucking good right now.
"I can unbutton your pants."
My swallow is sharp, intense and I know he hears it. Do I let him do that without the Lewis conversation? Do I let him feel me without really seeing me? The only scars that he may feel down there are the ones on my inner thighs and with the restraint from my jeans, he's not going to be to touch that much anyways.
But he's still fucking driving. His eyes are carrying not only my life but his own. And we both cannot risk losing our lives because we're a pair of fucking geriatric cops who are finally getting to have who we've always wanted and can't keep ourselves under fucking control. "You're driving." And yes, that was a fucking whisper because whether I want to admit it or not, that's exactly what I want him to do.
"My eyes will stay on the road." His eyes, do in fact, stay on the road.
"And you?" His fingers on me, on the bare me, is going to be hard for him. His dick is going to be aching, just like I'm aching and does he really want to do deal with that for the rest of the drive? Because I'm sure in hell not going to take care of him when he's driving. That is way too risky.
He squeezes my thigh, "I can handle it."
"You're sure?" He better be.
"I'm sure."
I whimper in defeat, if he says so, and guide his hands to my button. "You better be," I whisper once again and that fucking grin. Like a child who finally got what they wanted after asking fifty times.
His fingers don't even hesitate popping the button and pulling my zipper down and okay, Stabler. With that speed I expect his fingers to meet my bar flesh instantly. But I don't. I feel the pressure over my underwear. Almost there, where I need him most, but not. And oh, he's still finding a way to respect my boundaries and goddamn, this man is definitely earning his way to see me naked. My moan is loud, and I guess I'm just going to be a loud one with Elliot. Isn't that fucking perfect with an eight year old son.
His fingers seek out wetness instantly, a small grunt falling from the back of his throat when he feels the evidence of me but his eyes are still solid on the road. His touch is light at first, skimming along me lightly, but as much as I love the teasing, I kind of want him to do this faster. I'm not only needy, he's also driving. So, I slide my hand down to grip the back of his to push him more firmly against me and whisper, "More." I moan deeply at the contact and yes, this is what I need to get there.
I'm trying to keep my eyes open to ensure that his eyes stay on the road, but with each pass of his fingers, it gets harder and harder to do. But his eyes stay solid on the road ahead of us and I even watch him switch lanes with ease. He said he could handle this and really if I didn't believe him, he wouldn't be doing this, so at the next stroke of his fingers my eyes close slowly.
His fingers are firm, give me exactly what I want, exactly what I asked for, and I'm just about to reach down to fix them against me when he does it himself. His index finger finds my entrance, presses inside of me as much as he can go with the restriction of my jeans and underwear while his thumb finds my clit. He rubs tight, small circles, pumps his finger fast and how the fuck does he remember this shit after only doing it once!
My hips jerk, my hand grips his wrist, I moan, "Oh, Elliot...", my thighs clench, I feel myself gush and holy fuck. Holy. Fuck. These orgasms, well I mean this will only be the fourth he's given me, but they really have been some of the best I've had in my life and my clothes have not even come off yet. And after this one, I realize it's because he's learning me. Even though I'm setting these boundaries at the moment, he's still learning what I like and using it and goddamn.
As soon as he pulls his hand out of my pants, I know exactly what he's about to do. And no, no fucking way is he going to taste me, going to let me watch him taste me and not be able to follow up on that right now. Because if he's doing this great learning with his fingers? His tongue? Jesus Christ. So I snatch his wrist halfway to his mouth and laugh at the look of confusion on his face. "Not yet."
He groans with that. Full blown groans and I'm actually worried about him losing focus with that news. "Olivia." It's half a groan and half a whine and I bring his knuckles up to my mouth to kiss them. To try to soothe him in some way because really, I understand the frustration, especially when I can see how hard he is. It's taking all my might to not reach over and slide my hand across him.
"Don't you want to have the first taste when you can keep tasting?" Yup. I just fucking asked him that question. Hello my inner sex goddess. God, I've missed you.
His hand clenches mine tightly and I can see him almost, almost, break his eyes from the road. "Jesus, Liv."
I kiss his knuckles again and bring his hand to rest on my lap, "Is that a yes?" He nods almost in a stupid manner and I nod also. Thank goodness, because he's not the only trying to survive this right now. "Good."
He groans lightly again, wraps his hand back around my thigh, "You're going to kill me," he says quietly.
I'm not sure if I'm supposed to hear it or not but I do, so I answer, "No, El. We're going to kill each other."
We really fucking are.