Second round… and third?! –Liana
Liana
He laid me down on the bed like I was something sacred, but the look in his eyes was anything but holy.
My body was still trembling from the shower. He hadn’t even dried off completely, water dripping from his hair to his chest to mine as he hovered over me.
“You still think I’m done with you?”
I barely managed a breath before his mouth claimed mine.
Not soft. Not sweet.
Starved.
Tongue sweeping mine. Hands gripping my thighs. Dragging me closer until his hips were nestled against mine and all I could feel was him.
Hard. Hot. Relentless.
I gasped against his mouth, my fingers curling into his shoulders—not to pull him closer, but to hang on.
He groaned low in his chest. “You feel that?”
I nodded, dazed.
He brushed his mouth against my ear. “I’m not letting you go. Not tonight.”
His mouth was everywhere—neck, collarbone, breasts, stomach—teeth grazing, tongue circling, lips claiming. When he finally slid his fingers between my legs, I gasped.
“Still wet for me?” he whispered.
I nodded, breathless.
He didn’t go straight for my clit.
Just circled it. Teased it.
Until my legs started shaking and I whimpered without meaning to.
“Please…” I whispered. “Elias…”
He met my eyes. Dark. Possessive.
“Then take me in,” he growled. “All of me.”
He didn’t ask again.
He just pushed inside.
I cried out.
He groaned. “Fuck. You’re still this tight?”
My back arched. I clung to his arms. He held still, trembling with the effort not to move too fast.
Then he started thrusting.
Slow. Deep. Devastating.
My legs wrapped around him. I broke apart fast, too fast, head thrown back, body clenching around him.
He didn’t stop.
I came again.
And again.
Tears spilled over my cheeks as I whispered his name.
He caught them with his lips.
Elias
Her skin was flushed. Her lips swollen. Her voice gone to ribbons.
And I couldn’t get enough.
I pulled out slowly, watching her shiver.
“Elias…” she whimpered.
I sat back on the edge of the chair by the bed and pulled her toward me.
“Come here.”
She hesitated, but climbed into my lap, knees on either side of my hips.
I held her there for a moment, letting her breathe.
Then guided her down onto me.
She gasped, sharp and breathless.
“I can’t,” she whispered. “I’m too—I—”
“You can,” I said. “You already are.”
I held her steady and started moving her.
Up. Down.
Slow. Torture.
She buried her face in my neck, trembling.
“I missed you,” she whispered.
I kissed her temple. “I missed this. Missed us.”
She cried out again. Her muscles clenched around me. I knew she was close.
So I flipped her.
Bent her over the edge of the bed. One hand on her back, the other guiding myself back in.
She sobbed my name.
“This body is mine,” I groaned. “This moan is mine. You’re mine.”
She shattered.
Back arched. Legs shaking. Fingers clawing at the sheets.
I followed with a growl, I pulled her back against me, not letting go.
Not now. Not ever.
When it was over, I collapsed beside her.
Pulled her into my arms. Pressed a kiss to her shoulder.
“I missed you,” I whispered. “Every part of you.”
