"I want you inside of me," I manage to say before his hand drops to my thigh.
His fingers race up my skin stopping when they reach that spot. It's the spot where the bullet hit me. I hated the scar for years. I was wary each time I took off my clothes in front of a man, worried that he wouldn't see anything but the jagged edge of the circular imperfection on my skin.
The men I've been with have never asked me about it, or even acknowledged it. They've all been too busy chasing their own needs. Even the man I promised to marry couldn't be bothered to understand the hidden pain that the scar represents. He knew I'd been shot. He never said the words, but I could sense that it was merely a flaw to him that wasn't worth a touch.
Nolan pulls back; his fingertip still focused on the scar. "Believe my words, Ellie. Every word I say to you, believe me."
I look into his eyes. I want to believe him, but this is fleeting. We have this one night. I don't expect more even if I want it. "I'll believe you tonight."
He shakes his head. There are words there, on his tongue, but they don't leave his lips. He scowls as if he's going to reprimand me for not having faith in him that this thing between us will still be alive tomorrow. It might smolder for a week or two, but I have to stay grounded. I can't let myself want what I can't have.
Disappointment has been as much a part of my life as breathing. I don't know what it feels like to get the things you desire. That's why I stopped wishing for anything I don't already have.
He kisses his way down my neck. His lips are plush and soft as they leave a trail of desire that heats my skin. I squirm when he reaches my shoulders, and his fingers push aside the small, thin straps of material that hold my dress in place.
I'm hit with a rush of frustration when his mouth stops as it reaches the top of my breasts. He squeezes them, his fingers plumping my pebbled nipples through the thin fabric.
He's on his knees before I realize what's happening. His hands slide over the back of my legs from my ankles, up my calves and then to my thighs. He fists the hem of the skirt of my dress into his hands, pulling it up as he goes.
I shiver when my almost bare ass is exposed to the air conditioned room. I feel the smile on his lips against the skin of my thigh. "Your body is beautiful, Ellie. It's so fucking beautiful."
I believe him. I don't know if it's because I need to or want to. I don't care. I want to be beautiful to him. I want to be the only woman he wants or needs, even if it's just right at this moment.
He moves then. His lips search out that one spot of skin on my outer thigh that his fingers were so focused on. He kisses my scar, softly and tenderly. Reverently.
"You saved a life."
I nod, unable to form any words. It's just a kiss, but the sensation and the words combined overwhelm me.
"The next time I fuck you, I'm going to spend hours licking your pussy." His mouth moves across my thigh to the edge of my blue lace panties. "I'm going to pull you onto my face and you'll ride me until you come over and over again. Until your taste is imprinted on my lips and until the only thing I can smell is the scent of you."
My knees buckle from his fevered words. I stumble only for a second before his strong hands grab hold of me, leveling my balance.
"Tonight I'll sample this," he rasps as his right hand fists the edge of my panties before they snap apart under his touch. "A taste and then I need to fuck."
I reach down to steady myself, my fingers tugging on his hair. My eyes close when I feel his lips on me. He parts my folds with his tongue. I moan softly as he hones in on my pulsing clit. The pressing need to come chases everything else away.
"Please, Nolan," I murmur as my hips circle slowly. My body finds its own rhythm, desperate for the release that his lips and tongue promise.
He answers my plea with a finger. One long, expert finger glides inside of me, its path clear as it seeks out that spot that I sense will send me reeling. I've never been with a man who knew how to eat me this way, with just the right balance of slow, smooth lashes of his tongue and the voracity of his lips as they suck on my swollen nub of nerves. No one has ever slid a finger inside of me and crooked it at just the right angle, so my body reacts without thought.
I'm so close that I whimper. I can't control it. I want the release so desperately that I dig my fingernails into his scalp, grinding myself on his mouth, aching for him to take me there. I crave more. I need more as much as I need my next breath. I don't care what I look like or sound like. I just want to come.
"I have to fuck you," he whispers against my flesh. "The first time you come for me I want to feel it around my cock."
I close my eyes at the heat in his words. It's there in his voice, the raging need to be inside me.
"Christ, Ellie."