Part Twenty-Five
She was having, hands down, the most absolutely wonderful dream ever. She was lying there, happily at the mercy of Elliot, or more accurately, Elliot's mouth and fingers, whose face was nestled between her legs, his magnificent blue eyes staring up at her, gauging her reaction the same as she'd done for him. His fingers were buried inside her, working magic, and his tongue – sweet Jesus his tongue – was doing something absolutely criminal. Really, he was fucking killing her. She'd never had such a great dream. And as her body began shuddering its release, she realized something was different about this dream. Her brain shut off while her back arched sharply, her thighs involuntarily locking around his head.
She figured it out as she glided back down from the high. Normally, when she experienced that sort of dream, she would have woken up by then. No matter how fantastically hot a dream was, she almost always woke up before she got to enjoy it, before it actually got to the good part. And not only had she felt herself shatter into a million happy, tingly, humming pieces, she could feel his mouth, his fingers, continuing to move The tempo and pressure had changed, a softer touch against her over-sensitized flesh, but they were still going.
It took her breath away, her body already starting to tense again. She was physically able to believe it; she had no choice. Mentally, however, was a bit harder. Even knowing it was real, knowing her eyes were open, knowing that Elliot really was there, doing that to her, she still found it hard to believe. The disorientation of sleep, the weightlessness of such an intense climax, the wonder of actually having sex with her partner, her partner, it was all too much.
Way too much.
As another, unexpectedly intense orgasm washed over her suddenly, her head fell back, her emotions finally overwhelmed the physical sensations he caused. There were tears on her face, pouring right past her closed eyelids as though they weren't even there. At first, the strength of her response was so much that she couldn't even understand what she was feeling. She didn't know why she was sobbing. She just was and she didn't want to be.
She felt Elliot's body moving, his form sliding along hers, his dick eagerly awaiting its turn, unaware that his mind had moved to something else entirely. He braced himself above her, one thick arm supporting his frame while the other hand stroked her hair, her face, her cheek.
"What, Liv? What's wrong?"
She shook her head, unable to reply between the sobs, unsure what she would reply even if she could. Experience told her to wipe at her tears, to hide them from Elliot's unrelenting scrutiny, but she couldn't because he did it for her.
He shifted off her, curling one arm under her head, pulling her into his chest. "Shhh, Liv, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." His hand slid along her back, caressing her in a protective rather than seductive fashion, although her body, which as of late was entirely disjointed from her head, couldn't find a difference between the two. Elliot's face was pressed against the side of hers, his mouth near her ear. "I didn't mean to hurt you, baby. I'm sorry."
It was hearing his voice crack, knowing he was hurting because he thought he'd hurt her that broke through her crying fit. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, hugging him to her, shaking her head again.
"No, no, El, it's ok." She sniffled, suddenly feeling silly for having been so completely consumed by her feelings as to burst out crying in the middle of absolutely amazing sex. She'd never cried during sex before, though after, locked in the bathroom or a cab or back in her own bed, was an entirely different story. She'd always thought that women who cried from the experience of fucking someone were simply too immature to be having sex in the first place. She'd always thought the ridiculously weak gesture was for characters in romance novels. She'd never expected that she'd be reduced to tears at the idea of being so connected to someone.
But she'd always been close to Elliot, in a way she'd never quite understood. And so, finding a physical link, letting herself connect to him in the most intimate way possible, was a natural outgrowth of their relationship. It was just a shock to her system to realize how strong her feelings for him were, to feel the powerful way her body responded to him, to know her mind and body were on the same page for once.
He pulled back slightly, continuing to hold her as he met her eyes. "What's the matter?"
She tried to laugh it off, smiling and rolling her eyes, embarrassment stinging even though she had no reason to be ashamed in front of him. Not after what they'd done all night. "What? You've never had a woman start bawling on you before?"
He held her eyes, searching, before he finally shook his head. "No, can't say that I have."
"Good." And then she did smile, superiority welling up in her for having felt a connection to him that even Kathy never had. "Cause I can't say that I've ever actually started bawling during sex before."
Despite her smile, Elliot didn't seem to know what to make of her words. "So, uh, is that a good thing?"
Shifting her legs to rub his erection, reminding him of what he'd been doing, she nodded. "Yeah."
His eyes slid closed, a guttural groan spilling from his lips. But he sucked in a breath, moving himself over to escape the contact, forcing control back into his body. "Are you sure?"
Her hips chased his, putting their lower bodies back in contact. "By all means, carry on." She punctuated her sentence by hooking one leg over his hip and realigning them. "Or do I need to convince you?"
Visibly shaking, he lowered her to the bed, leaning down over her and brushing his lips across hers. "I meant it when I said I loved you, you know."
"I know." She caught his lips, not allowing him to get away without a searing kiss.
Concerned as he was, he was still determined to undermine her authority. She barely realized he was moving until she felt his fingers, his arm stretched around her leg, pulling it high on his waist, his fingertips prodding, testing, teasing. She knew he'd find what he hoped to, the wetness he'd caused still seeming to pour forth, her body amply prepared to accept his again.
In fact, she wasn't sure there would ever be a time when she wasn't, since the thought of him was enough to release a torrent from her body.
It was no time at all before he pressed himself against her entrance, pausing just long enough to let her know he was ready. By the time she'd moved her other leg around him, hooking her ankles together, he was all the way inside her, filling every bit of her, his size exactly enough to stretch her pleasantly and put pressure on all the right spots. He was made to be inside her, she decided, and she was meant to surround him.
Just like every time it mattered, they worked together perfectly, meaningless squabbles aside, their true selves open and bare and completely accepting of one another.
And just like every time he'd touched her that night, her nerve endings got one fuck of a workout, burning and melting and freezing and floating and falling and exploding in miraculous pleasure so intense it almost hurt. They snuggled up afterward, once more too spent physically to do anything but collapse together, his body warm and slick with sweat spooning behind hers.
She awoke not too long after, still toasty and content in Elliot's not quite uncomfortably heavy arms. What had woken her, she realized, hadn't yet woken him. His apparently perpetually erect dick was poking her in the ass. He was some kind of a medical marvel, she decided. He needed to be studied. And she was more than happy to be the one to study him.
She turned her head, her lips grazing his temple. "El?"
"Hmmmph." Whatever he meant to say was muffled entirely by her throat, since he didn't bother to lift his head when he spoke.
Since she wasn't sure she'd get anything helpful out of him with words, she changed tactics. She pressed back against him, wiggling her butt the slightest bit, enticing him. It worked like a charm, his hand clamping down on her waist, pulling her back as he pushed forward.
He lifted his head, enough to slide his lips across her neck and shoulder. "Fuck, Liv, you really are going to kill me with this shit."
"Me? You stared this round!" Even as she scoffed, she leaned her head back, grazing his cheek with her mouth.
He chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest where it pressed against her back. "How did I start this? I was trying to sleep!"
She shifted her hips, his dick poking harder as she teased. "You woke me, El, I assure you." Hearing his groan at her movements, she laughed, but the sound cut off abruptly when his hand released her waist in favor of cupping her breast.
Fondling first one, then the other, playing with her nipples until they formed taut peaks, Elliot had her squirming in less than a minute. She tried to maintain active participation, pushing herself up with her legs until his dick slipped between her thighs. He wasn't even inside her yet, but she already felt it building, the knowledge that he was about to bring her to a mind-blowing climax enough to start the physical process.
He wasn't about to let her distract him, although his hand did falter a bit as he nestled himself against her center. His whole body shifted, the arm he had under her moving around until that hand could caress her breasts. His other hand moved downward, agonizingly slow as it approached the junction of her legs.
She clenched her teeth, closed her eyes, and waited, basking in the sensation as his fingers combed through her curls, pushed between her thighs, and plunged into the most sensitive place on her body. She couldn't tell if she was moaning or talking or screaming. There were just uncontrollable sounds coming out of her mouth as his fingers danced along her clit. She knew exactly what he meant about her trying to kill him; she wasn't sure how much pleasure she could endure until her body simply stopped being able to process anymore.
Unlike the previous times, he gave her no warning, one hand kneading her breasts and gently tweaking her nipples, the other massaging her cliit until she felt like her heart would stop, and then suddenly, he penetrated her, his dick pushing hand and fast, deeper into her body than he had previously, spreading her body absolutely as far as it would go, easing the momentary flash of pain with the ministrations of his talented hands.
She was definitely screaming then, she knew it, but she couldn't stop it. She was going to die from the amazing way he was plying her body. She could only cry out, feeling everything and nothing at the same time.
He'd learned from her already, knew how she'd react to him, anticipated how wet and ready she would be for him, expecting her cooperation. He moved faster, harder, fucking her in a more animalistic way than he had before, making her feel as much wonder while making it a different experience altogether.
He was in control, completely, her body pliant and willing and helpless, as he pleased them both. The only thing she could do was reach behind her with one hand, digging her nails into his skin, not sure if she meant encourage or discourage him, pinching him when he slowed, clawing him when he sped up. She lay there, limp from the overload, letting him rip a few more mind-fucking orgasms from her before he came again, filling her body again.
She was done for the night, she knew it, she couldn't hold her head up, or respond to her lover's words. She closed her eyes, slipping back to sleep while her body was still buzzing with Elliot's body still inside hers.
His voice was soft, gentle, belying the roughness he'd displayed that last time, as his lips pressed kisses along her cheek, neck, and shoulder. "Good night, baby, get some sleep."