CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Addison
This booty doesn’t need memory foam.
It’s already unforgettable.
#mattressgate
—Twitter @DuPontBadonk
I’m abandoning ship.
When a man chops a bed in half for you, is there any other choice?
My legs have the consistency of liquid and like the Grinch on Christmas morning, my heart has grown to three times its normal size. All full of Elijah. Bursting. Bursting. This beautiful, idiotic man who is going down in history as the mayor who threw a freaking mattress out the window. For me. Just so I would sleep beside him.
We’re lunging for each other and I’ve almost reached him when I force a reality check. He’s not over the wedding. Not over his ex. Things don’t change overnight and it hasn’t even been twenty-four hours since he admitted he’s not over being left at the altar. But what if…what if there’s a little possibility that Elijah could learn to love me, instead?
I’m so scared to even begin to hope, I have to press my lips together to keep a sob from escaping, but a second later I have to open them, because Elijah’s mouth is on mine. Our lips fit together like a door lock cylinder, holding, both of us breathing through our noses. He stoops down with a groan and my legs obey his silent command, lifting to circle his waist. And the kiss turns hot, earnest, one hand loosing my hair from the ponytail, the other sliding down the back of my shorts to squeeze my bottom.
I cup his face in my hands and drop off the ledge into his texture, his taste, the hoarse sounds he’s making in the back of his throat. We’re walking somewhere, but I can’t find the willpower to take my tongue out of his mouth. A responsible inner voice I didn’t know I had tells me I’m making him late for work, but that enormous part of him lifting and rubbing between us definitely needs me now. Now. I need him back so bad, too. He has to keep stopping on his journey to wherever to give me a thorough enough kiss.
Finally, I sense us entering a room and my back lands on softness. My bed in the guest room. Not a beat passes before we’re rushing to get undressed. As I watch Elijah shed his jacket and open a few buttons on his shirt, I’m flushed head to toe, growing wetter between my thighs by the second. My body has no choice in the matter, because he’s determined, focused, shoulders flexing, tongue skating over his lips. A God-man towering over me. I’ve only managed to kick off my running shorts and underwear when he lands on top of me, our mouths colliding in a moaning dance of tongues.
He draws up my shirt between us, his right hand skating over my sports bra—and he lifts his head. I’m so disoriented from lust, I don’t realize right away why he’s stopped kissing me.
“Pink bra,” he rasps, taking a handful of my right breast. “Were you planning on running along the Battery in this?”
Uh oh. I try to distract him by rolling my hips, but apart from his eyelids dipping, he doesn’t bite. “I’m wearing a shirt over it.”
“Were you planning on keeping it on?” he asks, circling a thumb over my peaked nipple. “Or were you going to strip it off soon as I walked out the door?”
My best friend knows me too well. He can see the answer in my eyes. “Women run in sports bras all the time. It’s not unusual.”
The words are barely out of my mouth when Elijah yanks the bra up, allowing my breasts to bounce out. If he didn’t already know I was turned on, he would now. My nipples are in such tight points, they ache. So much that when Elijah touches one with the tip of his index finger, my back arches without consent. “One layer between these sexy tits and the world is not enough for me. I’m settling for two. You’re provoking me with one.”
“It has nothing to do with you,” I manage. “I just don’t like a sweaty shirt sticking to my skin.”
Elijah settles more firmly between my legs, the bulging fly of his pants rocking up into the juncture of my thighs. My thoughts go foggy, my lips pressing together to keep from begging for Elijah to unzip and take me. “You give me a lot of grief about my size,” he says, rubbing our lips together. “If I didn’t wear briefs underneath my dress pants, people would see everything I’ve got. Would you like that?”
Jealousy and possessiveness claw me like a feral alley cat. “That’s not funny.”
“No. It’s not.” He leans down, running the very tip of his tongue around my areola. “If I can be uncomfortable and needing to adjust myself in slacks all day, sugar, you can deal with a sticky T-shirt.” I don’t like being told what to do and Elijah damn well knows it, but he covers my mouth when I start to voice a protest. “We could keep arguing. Or you could open your legs like a good girl and get a nice treat.” He removes his hand and kisses me long and hard, slanting our lips together until I’m writhing beneath him. “Which is it going to be?”
“What were we arguing about again?” I whimper.
Our wet lips brush. “You think you can talk your filth to me while I’m tonguing that pussy?”
My lungs evacuate in a rush. Elijah is going down on me. Is this real life? “I n-never back down from a challenge.”
His eyes, still so heavy with lust, hit me with a serious look. “Will you sleep beside me tonight?”
“Where? You won’t fit in here and—”
“I’ll handle it. Yes or no.”
“Fine,” I whisper, my heart speeding into a gallop. “I’ll sleep with you.”
We stare at each other until smiles bloom on both of our faces. “It took the morning, but I do believe we just got on the same damn page.” He has no idea I’m on thirty different pages, too, but I don’t have the heart or the courage right now to tell him. “Let’s stay on it, okay?”
I pull my lips into the pout I know will distract him. “Can I have my treat now?”
“God, yes.” Elijah’s growl starts a purr in my middle and his lips track down my sternum to meet it. I can’t believe this is happening. I’m naked from the waist down, my bra hiked up near my collarbone…and Elijah is still fully dressed in his stuffy mayor clothes. It’s every fantasy I’ve ever allowed myself, but a million times better, because I can feel the rasp of expensive material on my thighs, my belly. He still hasn’t shaven, so the scrape of his beard awakens screeching nerves that run amok in every direction. “In the spirit of staying on the same page,” he says in a low voice, kissing me right below the belly button. “I should confess this treat is really for me.”
My eyes slide shut, my tongue loosening as sensations roll over me in waves. I reach down and twist my fingers in Elijah’s hair, guiding him lower. “How long have you been thinking of putting your mouth in places it doesn’t belong?”
“Longer than I should have,” he grits out, pressing his panting open mouth over my naked flesh. Right on top of it, his head bowed. As if praying. “Sometimes when you roll your eyes at me, I want to pin you down and slap it. Lick it.” A stuttered moan sneaks out and Elijah looks up at me with awed hunger. “You’re going to love it, aren’t you?”
Why is he making me wait? I’m so wet it should be illegal. “Yes, Elijah,” I moan, shifting my hips. Until something about his hesitation pierces my need. “Have you…done this?”
Elijah’s gaze flashes to mine. “Not with you. Not with someone who needs it so fucking beautifully.” Strong hands push my thighs farther apart. “Not with someone I want to taste so bad I’d go insane without it.”
My throat tightens. “We can’t have that.”
“No. We can’t. I’m already destroying beds—who knows what I’d do if I lost any more of my mind.” Eyes fastened on me, he slowly drags his tongue through my feminine lips, groaning as he goes. “Oh, fuck. That all for me, sugar?”
I think I scream in response, because there’s no more hesitation from Elijah after that. He’s a man possessed and his sole purpose is searching for the spots that make me gasp—and staying there. God love the man, he stays once he strikes gold. His arm reaches up and bands around my hips and he yanks me closer to his mouth, using the flat of his tongue to treat my clit like a queen. Rubbing, flickering, rubbing.
“Sh-shit. Oh my G-God.” Elijah must have harnessed his tongue’s powers—and mine—for good, because forming sentences is harder than usual. Am I going into shock? “Yes, that. That. Yes.”
He slides two fingers into me and I wince a little because I’m tender from last night. I don’t need gentle, though. I need to lean in to that touch of soreness and beat it—and as if Elijah is reading my mind he starts driving into me with his fingers. Hard. Fast. In this mindbending contrast, he goes light on my clit with his tongue, sucking the bud between his lips and rolling it like a jeweler would handle the Hope Diamond.
My hands fly up and tangle in my own hair, my back coming off the bed in an upside-down U. “You like how I taste, baby?” I moan, apparently regaining the power of speech. “Is it making you need to come when you should be working?”
A guttural growl is my answer as his middle finger hits that spot deep inside me. I suck in a breath and hold it, releasing it in a whimper when my orgasm begins to build. And build and build faster than ever before with Elijah stroking my G-spot and his tongue trapping my clit against his upper lip and dragging side to side slowly.
“Elijah.” My thighs fall open, my pelvis lifting up in a silent beg. “You’re so good, so good. I’m going to ask you for this all the time. Would you like that?”
Glazed eyes and a languid head nod are a resounding yes. His fingers surge deeper still, exploiting that place I’m going to forever associate with this man. He owns it.
“Will I roll my eyes at you for being late coming home…and stomp up the stairs in my littlest skirt? I’d have forgotten panties all day, Elijah. Are you going to let me get away with that?”
It’s hard to tell because his words are muffled by my body, but I think he calls on his maker. I don’t realize my eyes are closed until I open them to the view that sends me sailing past the finish line. It’s that tight, high and thick backside of Elijah’s rolling slowly as he humps the bed. His dress pants are stretched over two hard buns that are more than capable of bursting the seam, especially with his erection testing the slacks in the opposite direction. Bump, bump, bump. His butt muscles bunch and loosen, bunch and loosen. He’s so turned on from going down on me, he’s trying to gratify himself with the mattress. Knowing he’s self-conscious over that gorgeous hunk of ass only serves to make me hotter, because he’s too lost in the act to care that it’s on display. I’ve never seen anything so beautiful in my entire life.
“I’m going to come,” I say on an exhale, my abdomen twisting lower and lower, light burning holes in my sight. “I-I’m going to come—oh God.”
It’s not the sharp, pummeling climax from last night. It’s different and equally brilliant. It passes through me in a devastating ripple, seizing my muscles and taking the breath in my lungs prisoner. I don’t remember when I wrapped my thighs around Elijah’s head, but they’re locked around him now, my whole body shaking like I’m on a vibrating bed in a motel room. When the best/worst of it has passed and laid waste to my senses, Elijah climbs me, one hand busy on his zipper.
“One pump is all I need,” he grinds out, sweat dappling his forehead. “Just one pump after watching you come.”
It’s more like two and a half, but they’re the most savage thrusts my body has ever experienced. Elijah shoves inside me with a possessive shout, then fucks me a full foot up the bed, bracing his hand on the headboard just in time to keep me from getting a concussion. I think I’m prepared for the next one, but it’s delivered with his full weight on top of me, my knees pinned up near my shoulders—and I’m not prepared, not prepared. An orgasm catches me off guard, thanks to his heavy hips grinding down on my sensitive clit and I scream his name, burying my fingernails in his glorious ass. I’m still spasming when his hips hitch mid-pump and he curses low and long in my ear, his giant frame stiffening, heat flooding me in heavy spurts.
“Goddamn,” he rasps into my neck, his body still tense, the climax still holding him in its grip. “Little sugar pussy is too tight for its own good. Jesus, it was so sweet for my mouth.”
“You own it, baby,” I whisper in his ear and feel him stiffen again, listen to him groan through an aftershock of pleasure. “All for you.”
“Addison.” His mouth moves in my hair. “Mine.”
I close my eyes and nod, knowing it’s the absolute truth.
I’m his. Even if these dangerous new hopes are unfounded and he can’t really be mine. I’ll be in love with Elijah Montgomery Du Pont until I take my final breath on this Earth.