Peggy kept expecting to be embarrassed. Maybe she’d simply filled her quota for humiliation that day already, but somehow admitting her inability to climax to Elliott only seemed inevitable. Like she’d just been waiting for the right moment in the dark when their facades came down, so she could be honest.
Honesty. Was she ever honest with anyone? Even her best friend only received half-truths and evasions, her family only seeing the happy-go-lucky baby sister. Maybe sexual release wasn’t the only thing she could share with Elliott alone. Maybe it went hand in hand with the truth. Sex, honesty, Elliott. All the times in between when she couldn’t succeed in finding pleasure…it was possible she’d just been weighted down by her constant pretense.
Vanity reared its head to save her. Probably from placing too much importance on this last time with Elliott. Ruining herself forever. Because after this, it would be over. No more lying or fronting or pretending she was fine when her chest felt split down the middle. Admitting your problem was the first step toward correcting it, right?
“This isn’t why I came back here,” she whispered against his neck. “I didn’t drive all this way just so you could orgasm me. So don’t get a big head about it, okay?” His hands were everywhere, big and commanding, teasing over her bottom, roughing up her thighs with scrapes of his calloused palms. God, nothing had felt that good in so long. “This is about m-me moving on. I don’t want your pity.”
“No?” His mouth opened on her neck, delivering the exact amount of suction to make her legs jerk, to start a miserable/wonderful quickening at the juncture of her thighs. “Let it be about pity for me, then. I might come on occasion, but it’s never near as satisfying as when I did it in your pussy. Not even close. And the idea of looking for someone else? Fucking laughable. I haven’t glanced at another woman since you drove away. They might as well be invisible.”
“Stop.” Behind Elliott’s head, Peggy’s hands curled into fists that shook with the urge to strike out. The impulse stemmed from the center of her chest, colliding with the flare of unwanted pleasure that he’d been celibate without her. “I don’t want to know it was hard for you. You’re the one who kicked me out.”
Beneath her body, his muscles went tight, his breath going shallow. “Baby—”
In a panic, Peggy cut him off with her mouth. For a few beats, he resisted, that stubbornness radiating from the hard lines of his body, but she couldn’t allow him to say whatever it was. Premonition told her it would be counterproductive. Ha. Such a technical term for taking a scalpel and carving words into someone’s heart.
His resistance abated in seductive degrees, his right palm sliding beneath her skirt on a dark groan that increased in volume as he found her wetness again. Yes. Elliott had this way of fingering her that she’d never been able to mimic, no matter how many times she attempted it alone in the dark, her head tossed back on the pillow. A man testing out the goods. That was the only way she could describe the manner in which he shoved his index finger deep, his brow furrowing as he drew that single, blunt digit in and out. Sampling her resistance, checking for the right amount of wetness…and always, always, being over-the-top satisfied with the results.
Elliott’s jaw fell as he added his middle finger, curving them inside her to find the gathering of devastating nerve endings on her front, inner wall, and exploit them. “Why aren’t you stroking me off right now?” His chastising tone flowed from the top of her head down, down, like warm water. “I’m about ready to rip through these briefs. Were you waiting for an invitation?”
“No.” A buzzing current replaced her blood, lightning flickering in her veins. She couldn’t get her hands on his erection fast enough, was dying to hear his approval, his pleasure, punctuate the air between them. And it did. It did. As soon as her palm dipped beneath the waistband of his underwear and began to rub that ruddy trunk, he gave a gritted curse, hips jerking.
“Shit.” His fingers crammed deep inside of her with that single word, forcing a tight-lipped cry from her mouth. “Your skin on mine. That’s what was missing. Skin on skin.” Barely able to stay upright under the weight of lust, Peggy closed him in her fist and pumped his flesh, tight and slow, loving the way his jaw loosened. “That’s right. You remember how I need it done. How to make me so hard, I have to concentrate on not coming the whole fucking time I’m inside you. Because that’s what you need. Isn’t it? You need me to sweat and get angry and shake over how good your pussy feels. You get off on my torture.”
“Yes. Yes. The things I do to you are bad.” She released his rigid length in favor of quickly unbuttoning her top, shoving the sides open to give him a view of her braless breasts. He loved it. Loved them on display, because his fingers began working her center with fervor, his eyes glittering with the kind of lust that swelled her nipples, the nub between her legs. “Can I ride you, please?”
“You’d love that, wouldn’t you?” Elliott rasped, and she swore—she swore—a flicker of regret crossed his face, but she ignored it, using her sliding grip on his huge arousal to make that unwanted emotion vanish into nothing but blatant hunger. “Having a front row seat to me giving in to temptation?”
Heat seared her from all sides, firing even hotter when his thumb started fondling her clit, dragging a ragged moan past her lips. The way he looked at her, perusing every inch of her with a hooded expression, turned back time to when she was his downfall. The downfall of mankind. “I bet if I check your pocket, I’ll find a condom. Won’t I, Coach?” She tucked her fingers into his jeans and closed them around a foil square, euphoria making her light-headed. “Did you hate it? Did you hate going into the store and buying this, knowing you shouldn’t use it on me, but secretly hoping you would?”
“Yes. All right? Yes.” He levered his body forward to catch one of her nipples in his hot mouth, abusing it with his tongue as he sucked. Her center clenched so tight, she knew if she didn’t get Elliott inside her soon, she would climax right there on his lap. And she needed so badly to have that completion while filled, every inch of her crowded and stretched the way only he could do it. “Can’t stop thinking about how hard I used to fuck you. How hard you used to let me. Just driving you up the bed until you were bent in half, that blond hair tangling around your ankles.”
Holy shit. Peggy shoved at Elliott’s shoulders, putting his back up against the bench, his expression rife with lust and anticipation as she applied the latex, sucking in a breath when she felt him pulsing against her fingertips. Using the bench’s wooden back for balance in her left hand, she moved higher on his lap, guiding his erection home with her right. “Oh God, oh God,” both of them groaned in a seemingly endless loop, as she sank down—
With only half his erection inside her, Peggy started to shake, the orgasm she’d spent so long chasing, busting through the dam of her middle and drowning her, dragging her under the churning relief. She felt Elliott’s hands in her hair, his powerful grip steadying her, mouth blocking her scream with a kiss. The kind of kiss you gave someone you might die without. Fast, slow, heads turning, bodies twisting. A full body kiss. “More. Elliott. More.”
He searched her eyes a moment before laying another one of those bruising, soul-crushing kisses on her mouth. Reeling over the sensation of ultimate fullness—possession—she wasn’t prepared when Elliott shoved her hips down, impaling her completely. Another crest of pleasure sailed through her, making her quake on the thick perch of his manhood. Her muscles were already brutally sore from the first time, she realized in a far-off way, before Elliott’s harsh voice pierced the fog around her.
“Hey. Baby.” He shook her by the shoulders. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“N-nowhere. I’m…”
“You’re here with Elliott.” His hands cupped her backside and ground her on his erection, a strained growl drifting from his mouth. “That’s where you are. Right where I need you.”
Peggy’s head shake was disjointed. “But w-we shouldn’t be, right?”
Even in the midst of his visible, gripping need, he seemed to be grinding his jaw, but that made no sense. “No, we shouldn’t be. But that’s not going to stop you, is it?” He tugged her ass close and rolled his hips, at the same time, leveling a strangled fuck in her direction. “Do it. Drive me insane. I’m dying.”
“Send you to hell?” she whispered.
His Adam’s apple lifted and plummeted. “Send me to hell.”
Bliss obscured her vision with a blurry screen as she started to ride. She gathered his head to her bouncing breasts, increasing her pace out of necessity when he sucked her nipples like a savage, his grip on her ass urging, urging. If it were anyone else on the entire planet, she wouldn’t have sensed the small part of him holding back. Elliott never did anything in half measure once his mind was set to the task, whether it be winning a football game or giving her pleasure. But something was off in the tight set of his jaw, the way he lifted his head to watch her under his half-mast eyelids, as if he were seeing her, finally seeing her and—
No. It was too late. She didn’t want to know what he would find. Was terrified to know if it would change anything. Push him. Pushing him that final few meters toward the abandoned, animal mating they’d always known, without a thought to the consequences, was her only option.
Peggy contracted her most intimate muscles around Elliott’s girth, listened as rusted epithets married in his throat, felt his fingers dig into the flesh of her backside. “These inches of yours,” she breathed up against his ear, licking the lobe, catching it between her teeth. “They’re the only ones that know the right spot to hit…the only ones that can make me scream. Or feel a damn thing. Please.”
Her back landed on the bench, the wood’s coldness reaching through the back of her jacket to wrap around her spine. But the rest of her…oh God, the rest was so fucking hot, she knew the word fever would forever hold new meaning. Elliott descended on her with the power of a pack of wolves, caged inside one man.
“Get your knees up. Get them up,” he snarled. Without waiting for her to comply with his command, he reached back and pulled her knees even with her hips, just out to the side. And that first drive with Elliott’s full weight on top of her was so glorious, it might have topped the orgasms he’d already given her. The positivity that she was being dominated, that she was prey and couldn’t escape his pinning heaviness, the thick evidence that he was man…it caused starburst to erupt behind her eyes, in her belly, all along her nerve endings.
“Yes, yes, yes,” she whispered, throwing her arms up over her head to grip the bench’s edge, just a foot or so from the top of her head. Already, her stomach muscles were tender, she could feel those twinges as they pulled again, already anticipating the oncoming rush of more.
Elliott’s grunt in her ear turned into a long, drawn-out groan. “You’re the only one who’s ever gotten me going like this. Nothing comes close. How do you do it, baby? How? I can’t think about anything else when I’m this deep. Just getting us off so fucking hard. Feeling your tight pussy milk me and knowing I earned it.” His hips grazed the insides of her knees with each thrust; that snapping roll she craved constantly—the brutality and thoroughness of it—was finally hers and better than she remembered. A thousand times better. “Look at me, nailing you to a park bench. God above, you turn me into a pussy fiend. Just for yours, though, you made sure of that, didn’t you? Ruined me. You ruined me.”
“Just returning the favor,” she gasped, elation and pleasure and fear throwing a party in her stomach. “Harder, Elliott. Deeper. Like it’s the last time.”
She whimpered as her legs were thrown up over his shoulders, the cold of the night registering on her bare bottom, but nowhere else. And then, not even there, because he bore down on her so completely, not an inch of her was exposed or left uncovered by his muscular body in some way. His teeth snapped down on the curve of her neck as he drove inside her, reaching places that hadn’t been touched since the last time they were together. Peggy’s fingers clutched the bench’s edge so hard, she could feel cuts forming on her fingers, palms.
“Put your hands on me,” he rasped into her ear, the volume of his voice fluctuating with his continued pumps. “You want to grab on to something, get those hands up in my hair, use your nails to open up the scars you left on my back. Touch me. I want you to touch me.”
Her climax started to rise like the sun, slower than before, but twice as intense. It wasn’t going to simply take the edge off; it was going to create new, jagged ones. It was going to obliterate her, and she could do nothing to stop it. Not with the thick, wet glide of his erection hitting her in that spot—that spot—the base of him giving her sensitized clitoris hell with nonstop rubbing. If she just kept her hands on the bench, rather than him, she could salvage the mission, though. She could keep that one little part of herself from giving over, detaching, and flying away.
As if sensing her resolve, Elliott set out to crush it, his mouth stamping down on her possessively, his tongue sweeping into her mouth and letting her taste his frustration. “Touch me,” he urged against her lips. “Skin on skin.”
She shook her head, trying to distract him with more kissing, but he pulled away, those eyes drilling into her, his lower body grinding in rhythmic devastation, sending her so close to the point of no return, she lost her ability to think straight.
“Damn you, Peggy,” Elliott growled, pressing his face into her shoulder. “I need your hands and eyes. I missed them most of all.” Their hearts slammed into each other between them, in perfect time with his rolling hips. But only hers was fracturing, splitting right down the middle, little pieces falling away as he continued. “No one ever touched me like you did. I’ve needed it, baby. I’ve been dead without it. Dead inside. Please.”
Her hands moved on their own, shoving down the insides of Elliott’s jacket, past the waistband of his pants to scrape her nails over the taut flesh of his ass. His guttural groan in response sent her fingers raking up his back, her palms sliding down his spine. “Okay, okay,” she whispered, before his mouth took her again.
Elliott was close, so close to the edge. She remembered his signals as if she’d never been gone a day. His thighs began to get restless, shifting and flinching, as if they weren’t under his control. He started holding his breath, releasing it in explosive bursts between utterances of her name, in that warning tone. Peggy, Peggy, I’m going to come.
He didn’t have to say the words—his body spoke for him—but his breath puffed into her ear, along with one final litany that sent her orgasm cresting alongside his own. “Get ready to take it. The only cock that makes your pussy happy…it only comes for you, too, baby. Only between these spread legs of yours.” His hand came up to grip her jaw, tilting her head back. “Look at me while I brand you there. Going to pour it in, nice and hot.”
Rising on a wave of undiluted ecstasy, she could no sooner have looked away than sever her own limbs. “Elliott,” she said, shaking head to toe. “Oh God, Elliott.”
His free hand gripped the back of the bench, that giant body pumping one final time, teeth clenching on a moan. His hips gave five unexpected, smacking drives, as if his climax had continued on longer than expected, longer than was possible, and then he dropped down onto her heavily, breath rasping in her ear.
Replete of energy, Peggy barely managed to unwedge her legs from beneath him and rest her ankles on his lower back, staring up at the night sky. Words, touches, sensations were already replaying in her mind, amplified now with renewed perspective.
This walk in the park had been about closure, moving on from the past, away from something she’d come to realize was bad for her. But Elliott hadn’t cooperated. Not even close. Now? She couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d just made a dangerous miscalculation.