"My name. It's not Andrews. It's Gilstead." I don't know why I felt like I needed to tell him.
Elias nodded. "River Gilstead," he said. "Okay." He ran his palm over my hair, then down to the nape of my neck.
"I thought you should know my real name since I'm going to be sleeping with you," I said. I was babbling, nervous as hell. It came out awkward-sounding. I felt so incredibly self-conscious.
He threaded his fingers through the hair at the base of my neck, gripping it tightly and pulling back, angling my face toward his. I felt my breath catch in my throat. His other hand traveled down the waistband of my pants and he cupped my ass cheek in his hand, pulling me against his hardness. "I already told you," he said. "We're not going to be doing any fucking sleeping. Once I get my cock in you, you're not getting any rest."
He slid his hand around the front of my hips, down between my legs. "No panties," he said.
I bit my lip and shook my head. "Need to go shopping."
He let out a sound under his breath that sounded like a low growl, and touched his fingers to my clit. I arched toward him, wanting his lips on mine, wanting all of him. I hadn't been touched in so long.
"Oh my God," I whispered. His hand was still at the base of my neck, gripping my hair tightly as he held my head in place, ensuring that I didn't break eye contact with him. The way he watched me while he touched me, his gaze intense as his fingers rolled over my clit, made me want to come immediately. "I want you inside me."
"You want me to fuck you?" he said, fingers dancing over my clit.
I moaned. "Do I have to beg?"
He stepped away from me, started unbuttoning his pants, and grinned. "You're definitely going to beg."
"You're cocky," I said. But the throbbing between my legs only intensified. I was close to begging now. I paused. "I don't have condoms."
He didn't answer.
"Do you?" I asked.
He gave me a look. "I wasn't planning on coming here," he said. "I'm clean. We don't really need them."
"I'm not on the pill." I felt stupid, saying it, and I gave him a sheepish look. "I stopped taking it...I'm not on anything." How did I explain, I didn't need it because my fiancé was no longer fucking me? It was embarrassing.
He didn't move, just stood there, looking at me. Then he nodded, and stepped back toward me, his fingers back where they were before, stroking me. I felt a rush of desire flood my body. "Okay, then," he whispered. "No fucking. Tonight, anyway. Tomorrow's another story." He stroked me with his fingers, his movements slow and languid. "In fact," he said. "Maybe I'll just take my time with you."
My thoughts were clouded with lust. Elias taking his time with me was the last thing I wanted to hear. I ached to feel him inside me. I wanted him to fuck me, hard and fast, my legs wrapped around him, up against a wall in the room. I wanted to scream, bury my face in his shoulder, dig my nails into his back as I came.
What he was doing now with his hand was amazing...and agonizing.
"Elias," I whispered, unable to think of anything else to say except his name. I pictured myself calling it out as he thrust himself inside me.
He pulled his fingers from between my legs, and I heard myself groan. Elias reached behind me, unhooked my bra, and slid the straps down my arms. "Oh, hell," he said, his eyes on my breasts.
"What?" I asked, my breath short. I reached for the waistband of his pants, unbuttoned his jeans, began to slide them from his body, when he grabbed my hands.
"You're fucking gorgeous." Elias held my wrists against the sides of his hips. I knew he was hard; I wanted to lean into him, to press myself against his hardness. "I want to taste you. I want to explore every inch of you." He put his mouth close to my ear. "I want you to want me so badly that the thought of my cock inside you makes you come."
"I'm getting close to that point now," I said, my words breathy.
"You haven't even gotten near that point yet," he said, dropping to his knees on the floor between my legs. He began to pull down my pants before I even realized what he was doing. His finger grazed the bandage that covered the spot on my leg where I'd cut, and I breathed a sigh of relief that I'd covered it. "Shaving accident?" he asked, his voice low.
"Yes," I said. "Nicked it with a razor."
He looked up at me, then kissed my other inner thigh, his thumb stroking lightly over the place where my scars used to be, the place where they were only mostly faded away. When he paused, hovering over the spot, I was sure he'd realized my secret. I held my breath, feeling my body tense.
Then he began applying kisses the length of my thighs, moving up between my legs. I exhaled, more out of relief that he'd passed over the fresh cut than at anything else. Until he moved further, between my legs and covering me with his mouth.