Welcome to Sugartown

“Who the hell cares what my Dad thinks?”

“I need this job.”

“What’s he gonna do, fire you?” I snap back incredulously.

“You’re a distraction. One I can’t afford.” A look passes over his face. It’s like he almost can’t believe he just admitted that. He doesn’t say anything else and that simple sentence stings more than I care to admit, and so when I realise there’s no budging him I put on my big girl knickers –metaphorically speaking, of course– and yank them up so he can no longer read the hurt that I’m certain is written all over my face.

“It was just a kiss, Elijah.”

He narrows his gaze, cants his head to the side and I know he doesn’t believe me. “Just a kiss? That so?”

I fold my arms over my chest and try to look indignant. “So.”

One corner of his mouth tilts up at the side and his certain gaze locks on my wavering one.

Crap, I think he was testing me.

Double crap, I’m pretty sure I just failed.

Elijah stalks closer. I take a nervous step back into the closed front door. Anyone else would be conscious of invading the delicate boundaries of acceptable personal space, but knowing that he has me cornered seems to make him really, very happy. He grins and pens me in with his arms pressed against the door.

What is with this guy and his blatant disregard for personal space?

“You wanna know what I think, Ana Belle?”

“Not really, but I have a feeling you’re going to tell me anyway,” I squeak.

He leans forward, his mouth brushing the shell of my ear. This small, insignificant touch sends warmth flooding between my thighs and a shiver down my spine. He whispers, “I think you’re lying.”

“You can think whatever you like, but you’re wrong.”

“Am I?” He leans in until our lips are inches apart and the moment stretches out in front of us like the beginning of a warm summer day on the road. I breathe his breath, he breathes mine. Our eyes are locked, our bodies move into one another, and then, when his mouth meets mine, it’s like we both just come apart. I taste whiskey on his breath. Whiskey and need.

I don’t know if it’s the same for him, but for me, the whole world could slip away and I won’t care as long as Elijah never stops kissing me. His hands are no longer penning me in; they no longer have to. One digs into my hip through the thin, wet cotton of my dress, the other is tangled in the hair at the back of my head. His grip is strong; his frenzied mouth works at mine, so hard it almost hurts, but I kinda like that, too.

The assured way he holds me gives me the confidence to be as free with him as I want to be. Gone is the girl who hesitated as he pushed into me up against my house, and as I break away from him, lifting my dress over my head and letting it fall to the ground with a loud wet slap, I feel a freedom I never thought possible. Elijah’s Adam’s apple bobs as his gaze drifts over me from head to toe. The dress didn’t allow for a bra underneath so I’m standing before him in only a pair of lace knickers. I’m freezing and beginning to feel self-consciousness sneak back in. I wrap one arm around myself, but before I can cover up completely, Elijah takes my wrist and pulls me toward him.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” He wraps all six feet of hard muscle around me. I feel smothered and small in his arms but I find I like that, too. Very much. He runs his mouth along my neck, across my jaw until my mouth meets his. With his hands he hoists me up and suddenly I’m weightless. I can feel the hardness and heat of him through his jeans and I’m more than a little afraid. I know this is going to hurt, but it’s not the physical pain I’m worried about, it’s knowing I’m going to want more afterward than he’s willing to give.

My breath catches in my throat and I press myself tighter against him so he won’t notice how much I’m shaking. Elijah doesn’t notice, though, he just walks us backward until his legs run into the bed and then there’s nowhere else for us to fall.

My breath leaves me in a rush as his weight settles on top of me. I’m running a mantra over and over in my head: Don’t chicken out, you want this, you want him. Though my hormones and my lady parts are certainly on board with handing Elijah my virginity on a silver platter, I don’t think my head agrees. It’s coming up with excuses as to why I have to flee from his motel room.

Maybe Elijah senses my hesitation, because he pulls back and glances at me with a bemused smile. I must look like a deer, caught in headlights. He opens his mouth and I think he's about to comment on how much I’m shaking, but instead he kisses the tip of my nose so gently I barley feel it. He eases his weight off of me, and I’m about to protest when his mouth glides over my collarbone and lower still, until he’s kissing my breast and taking my nipple in his mouth.

I arch against him. His calloused hand palms my other breast and then he’s trailing his lips over my tummy, licking and kissing his way down until his warm mouth covers me, underwear and all. Elijah shifts on the bed until he’s lying between my legs. His fingers curl beneath the waistband of my kickers and he peels them off, painfully slow, and tosses them somewhere over his shoulder. I’m laid bare before him.

He slips a finger into my wetness and slides it up to my clitoris, circling gently. I want to tell him to stop, or to go faster, or to just wait a minute and let me breathe, but none of that is necessary because all at once his hands are replaced with his mouth and his tongue is gently laving at me. His arms border my thighs. His hands lie flat against my stomach with just a hint of pressure.

My hands fly to his hair and tug on the length of his faux-hawk. I’ve never been more glad that his hair isn’t cut in a conventional style; for one, if there was any more I might pull it all out in the throes of ecstasy. Too little of it, and he’d be sporting claw marks on either side of his head.

Elijah circles his tongue around my clit before sliding the length of it downwards, until he’s buried as far inside me as it will go. The stubble on his chin and jaw prickles as he pushes his face into my soft flesh, but it’s a sweet pain, and one I wouldn’t give up freely. He lets out a moan and then lifts his head. There’s a light sheen of moisture covering his mouth and, though I feel like I should be more ashamed, or even a little disgusted, I have to admit I don’t think I’ve ever been so turned on.

He smiles like he knows exactly what I’m thinking and then his mouth is on me again, sucking this time. I feel him take that tiny bundle of nerve endings in his mouth and the sensation lays waste to all other thought, all other feeling than my whole world collapsing in on itself.

I throw my head back and cry out, buck beneath him and clutch at his hair for dear life as he brings me to climax.

Twice.

Or maybe it was one long, uninterrupted surge of bone-melting pleasure. Either way, by the time he comes up for air, he’s panting as hard as I am.

Elijah swipes the back of his hand over his chin and smiles at me with both dimples popping out. He crawls up the bed toward me and as I watch his predator-like movements, the waning fire inside my belly ignites with new passion. His weight settles over me, his jeans still on. He feels harder now than he was before, if that’s at all possible. I look up into those chocolatey eyes and feel myself falling. I know this is more than likely just the endorphins talking because, when it comes to Elijah, I really know nothing about him. How can you love someone you barley know? No. I know I’m not in love with him, but for a moment I let myself believe I am because I can’t think of anything more I could want.

I don’t know what’s going through his head but his dark eyes bore into me as he gently strokes the side of my face. For a split second I think I see him grimace, like he’s in pain, but it passes quickly and then his mouth is on mine and he’s kissing me deep and slow, and the fire in my belly is so distracting I can think of nothing else. After a minute Elijah pulls back and whispers, “It’s never just a kiss, Ana.”

Chapter Eight Elijah

When I wake, I’m flat on my back with wood the size of Mt Kosciuszko throbbing at my jeans and Ana hovering over my hips. She’s still completely naked and completely fucking unbelievable, even though her make-up is smudged and she has one serious case of bed-head.