Unfiltered & Unsaved (9 page)

She made sure he couldn’t mistake it by sliding her fingers across to the rounded column of his erection, and oh, what a discovery
that
was, the softness over the hardness beneath, and she felt Elijah’s whole body tense at her touch. It was mesmerizing, that ability to affect him, to make him
feel
so deeply with just a light pressure of the pads of her fingertips. And then the pressure of her palm, which didn’t begin to cover the length of it, or the thickness. It felt right and natural to let her fingers fit around him, and when she did Elijah shut his eyes and arched his back just a little, pressing against her touch.

“Is that all right?” she asked him, very softly. Her voice didn’t even tremble.

“Harder,” he said. She tightened her grasp. “Oh … yesssss. Like that.”

She’d expected to feel scared by this, but it was just the opposite—there was a rushing sense of power and safety to it that was more intoxicating than alcohol. Everything seemed blurred and sharp at the same time.

“Up and down,” he said. His voice was low in his throat now, a growling edge to it that made goosebumps tingle all over her body. “Oh yeah, that’s it. That’s it. God.”

It should have sounded blasphemous, she supposed, but it didn’t, and she didn’t care about much in this vivid moment except the intake of his breath, the flush she could see in his face, the tense interplay of his muscles. He was holding himself back with an effort, she could see that. Enjoying what she was doing to him. It wasn’t a passive thing, though; she could feel the battle inside of him, and the desire, and it made her feel wilder with every fast beat of blood through her veins.

“What do you want me to do?” she asked him, and though he’d closed his eyes, that question made them fly open again. There was a blind, needy look in them.

“Take those off me,” he said. “They’re getting a little tight.”

“I thought they stretched.” She was teasing now, and he liked it, she could tell.

“Oh, they already have,” he said. “I still want them off.”

She’d never done this, never in her life; she’d never undressed a man to the skin. She expected to feel embarrassed, or insecure, but she didn’t even hesitate. She slipped her fingers beneath the waistband on either side, eased the fabric up over his hardened member, and as he lifted his ass off the bed, she pulled them down. The sheets were a problem for her now, and she threw them back as she took the boxer briefs off over his feet and tossed them to the floor.

Then she sat up on her knees and just … looked. The sight of him made her feel oddly light-headed, and yet never more present in the world, and in her own skin.

“Where’s this going?” Elijah asked her. “Because I kind of need to know right about now.”

“That depends. Are you going to be okay? I mean, you’re hurt. You were beaten up. You got stitches. I’m not sure …”

“I can’t get real athletic, if that’s what you’re asking, but I think we can manage,” he said. “Just be gentle with me.”

She met his eyes squarely. “What would you do if I said this was as far as it went?”

“Be
really
disappointed and do something about it myself. By myself.”

“You mean jack off?”

He let out a harsh little bark of laughter. “I’d have bet money you couldn’t say it.”

“I can say lots of things,” Hope said. “I just usually don’t.” She hesitated for a second. “I wasn’t saying it
would
be as far as it went.”

He reached out and hooked a finger in the center of her lace bra, and pulled her forward. Just a tug, one she could have resisted if she’d wanted.

She didn’t want to resist.

As she leaned toward him, she moved her knee over so she was straddling him, and lowered herself until the satin of her panties was directly touching that very hard bulge beneath her. She braced herself on stiffened arms and leaned over him, watching his face as she slowly brushed her hips back and forth, with the fabric dragging against him.

Elijah took in a deep breath and arched his hips up against her, hard enough to take her breath away, too. She loved it. Loved the burning ache igniting where he was rubbing her. Loved the dampness that was soaking her already. Her nipples had gone hard inside the bra’s concealment, and when Elijah opened his eyes, he focused right on the outline of them and tugged at her bra again. “Off,” he said. “Fair’s fair. This is sexy, but I want to put my hands on your skin.”

She reached behind her back—a move that made her grind harder against him, drawing another growling groan—and deftly unhooked the three fasteners. The elastic snapped free, and the straps slipped down on her shoulders.

She held her bra there with one hand as he tried to pull it free, still dry-humping him, and finally let go so he could pull it off her arms.

“Oh Jesus, you’re gorgeous,” he said, and reached up to fit those big, warm hands over her breasts. She’d never realized how sexy that could feel, being cupped like that, stroked, teased. His thumbs flicked her hard nipples, and then he used thumb and forefinger to pull—gently at first, and then harder. She hadn’t thought her nipples could lengthen like that, and thicken, and become so incredibly sensitive. It was a delicate balance between pain and explosive pleasure, and he knew just where to hold it.

Then he sat up and licked one of them, and she cried out and grabbed for the headboard behind him and
God, God,
the stroke of his tongue was like nothing she’d ever felt before, something wet and intimate and perfectly insane. She had to use two hands when he began to suck and gently nibble, then bite a little harder.

If she’d had any mind left to lose, the feel of his fingers slipping under the elastic of her panties and into the hot, wet folds beneath did it. All he had to do was press his thumb to the nub of her clit and she cried out again, arching against the pressure, grinding, feeling everything inside her blow apart in a perfect tide of light and sound and frenzy.

When she came back to herself she was still frantically gasping and rubbing herself against his hand, and Elijah … E.J. was
smiling.

“Wow,” he said. She’d never imagined a man’s voice could sound so sexy, trapped so low in his throat. “You are incredibly fucking hot. Did you just come? Just from that?”

She blushed. She couldn’t tell if he could see it, because the orgasm had left her glowing and weak. “I think so.”

“You
think?
“ She didn’t answer that. His eyes widened. “You’ve never—?”

“Of course I have, by myself. That was—different.”

“Better?”

The difference between grape juice and wine, she thought, but she didn’t manage to put it in words. “Yes,” she said faintly. “Much.” She couldn’t seem to form complex sentences. “It just felt so mind-blowingly good.”

He still seemed thrown by something, and she realized what it was when he said, “Are you still a virgin?”

“No,” she said. “Not exactly. You won’t have to break anything, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Yeah, I don’t need the details,” he agreed, but he seemed a little relieved, which was strange to her; didn’t
most
men want virgins? Real virgins? Wasn’t that something they looked forward to? “Honestly, that’s good.”

“It is?”

“Yeah. It’s better after that.”

“How much better?”

His smile intensified. “Trust me,” he said. “A lot better.”

He gently tugged on the panties she was still wearing, and then she nodded and rolled over beside him to pull them off. She was a little nervous now, because she didn’t know how he’d take the fact that she didn’t shave herself bald; her roommate had mocked her for that, called her Bush League, and offered tips that she hadn’t taken, except to keep her pubic hair trimmed neatly.

It must have been all right, because he pulled her down and rolled her over and—for the first time since all this started—kissed her.

It was a soft kiss at first, strangely tentative … or not tentative at all, she realized. Just slow. He was testing her, and she responded in kind, increasing the pressure and the heat until their mouths were open, their tongues seeking and playing and stroking. The incredible taste of him—dark and strange and delicious— made her shiver to her core, a core that was rapidly heating to an unbearable temperature. His hand moved between them to play again with her nipples, and then slipped lower to slide between her legs. She opened for him and to him, and caught her breath in a gasp as his finger rimmed the entrance to her center … and then slowly slid inward while his thumb landed once again on the bud above it. She moaned into the kiss and rose toward his hand, urging him on. Deeper.

Elijah definitely knew what he was doing, now that he had her rhythm, and he kept bringing her close but then backing off, a torturously wonderful place that made her want him so badly she thought she might scream. “Please,” she whispered to him—whimpered, really—and bit his shoulder a little to drive it home. “Please please please …”

“Not yet,” he said. His breath was coming ragged and from the iron bar of an erection he had pressed against her, he was arguing with himself, not with her. “You’re not there yet.”

“I am!”

“Mmm. Maybe you are, then.” He sounded sure of it, and she believed him, maybe because what he was doing with his hand was making her insane and willing to believe
anything.

That led to a random pinball of a thought, and she was jerked out of the haze of pleasure enough to say, in utter horror, “I didn’t buy condoms!” Of course she hadn’t. She wasn’t even sure how to go about doing that, because in most of the local stores they were kept in locked cases, like museum pieces.
No, no, no … we can’t stop because of a stupid thing like that.
She spent a second considering how a latex glove might work in a pinch.

Elijah laughed close enough to her ear that the gust of warm breath made the hair on the back of her neck shiver in response. “Don’t hate the player, but I have some in my jeans. Front pocket.”

In other circumstances she might have been horrified—or at least disappointed—that he was so well prepared and ready, but right now, with the urgent needs making her crazy, Hope was just relieved. Relieved that this didn’t have to stop.

When he paused to grab his pants and empty the pockets, grabbing a foil-wrapped square as it fell, she wondered if she ought to feel sanity setting back in. If so, sanity stayed safely at a distance. It was fascinating and sexy to watch as he put the condom on. He did it quickly, if not easily. When he winced as he tried to brace himself on his hands, Hope stopped him with a hand laid gently on his face. “You’re hurt,” she said.

“Oh, trust me, I don’t feel it much right now.”

“Lie down.” She meant it, and he gave her a surprised look for a second before he let himself roll over, flat on his back. “Let me.”

“I never say no to a lady.” The words were slick, but she could see the relief in his face. It might not stop him—he might not even feel it at the moment—but he
was
hurt, and if they were going to do this (God, they really were going to do this …) then she had to protect him from himself, at least a little.

And she couldn’t deny, this felt
incredibly
sexy.

I’m going to do this. I’m going to make love with Elijah.
Even in the privacy of her own mind she didn’t want to call it just sex, or think of it that way; she felt very close to him, lost in him, and she hoped he was feeling the same.

“Hope?”

Elijah put his hands on her hips and held her still as she straddled him, and their eyes met for a long, long moment. His lips looked damp and sweet and completely kissable, and she bent over and brushed her hands over his cheeks, reveling in the alien sensation as the stubble dragged on her palms. Then she kissed him, slowly and deeply. She could feel the hard pounding of his heart beneath the damp skin of his chest. The caged power in him was intoxicating, like nothing she’d ever felt before.

“Let me,” she whispered, and before she could lose her courage, she sat up and guided him inside her.

He was right. This was different. In all the important ways she
was
a virgin, just without the tearing to worry about; she’d only done it once before, and for a second she felt a blind panic, because as turned on as she was, as
ready
as she was, she felt clumsy and wrong. But all that vanished in the next instant, as nature guided her. She went slowly, despite the tension in his body and the trembling need she could feel pulsing between them. A torturously slow, delicious descent, until he filled her completely.

And then she began to move, and she knew she was doing it right because his hips flexed to meet hers, slow and deep and intimate, and she heard her breath coming quicker as she felt the onrushing thrill again of the orgasm building. The sensations echoed in waves that shattered against her, and her body moved like the sea, rising and falling on his. He was whispering to her as his hands glided up and down her body, settling in places that made the waves build higher.

He came first, with a sudden massive thrust as his muscles locked and arched, and she loved the utterly lost look on his face. It spurred her faster, harder, and her own fulfillment came a few seconds later and broke her into stars inside.

She stayed there still and shaking for a long moment. She wasn’t sure she could move without collapsing, and she didn’t want to fall against him; that would be
very
bad for his stitches, at the very least. There was also something precious and sweet about feeling him inside her, softening but still very much with her, and it was with regret that she finally pulled away and let him go, and nestled herself against his side. They were both shining with sweat and breathing hard.

When she laughed, Elijah nudged her. “Hey!”

“I was just thinking … I can’t really make fun of Brittany any more, can I? Considering?”

He kissed her. It was a soft, gentle thing this time. Sleepy and fulfilled. “Oh, trust me,” he said. “You shouldn’t make fun of her for having sex. Just for being Brittany.”

She liked the rich, musky smell of him, she decided. She liked everything about this. About him.