Chapter 155: Chasing Pleasure (I)

Elara:

Before he could say anything else, I closed the small gap between us and kissed him.

Hard. The way I’d wanted to the first time he had looked at me with those soft eyes and asked if I was alright. And deep, the way I’d wanted to that every night he appeared in my dreams and left me wanting him more than ever before.

His mouth was cold from the weather outside and it warmed under mine in seconds. He made a sound - a broken half-groan, half-sigh. It was the noise of a man losing a war he had been fighting alone. His hands came up and fisted in my hair, and something in him gave.

But he didn’t take over. That was the thing. He kissed me back, his mouth opened for me, his hands held me, but he let me drive, let me set the pace, let me take what I wanted, as if he was afraid that if he reached for anything himself, I’d vanish, and he would have to go back to being the headmaster who watched me from across the hall. As if my wanting was a loan he had been given, not a gift he could touch.

I wanted to make him take. I wanted to see him finally gave in to his desire. But I also wanted, desperately, achingly, to take for myself.

I swung my leg over his lap, settling my knees on either side of his hips on the leather seat. The dress under my trenchcoat - short, green, and definitely stupid for late January - rode up my thighs as I straddled him. His hands went to my waist automatically, steadying me, and I could feel the tremor in them.

Even through the fabric of his trousers, I noticed he was hard under me - unmistakably and unbearably hard. And the knowledge of it went through me like lightning, straight down to the place between my legs that had started to ache.

"Oh," I breathed. "Oh, you want this."

"Princess. We are in a car. There’s a man-"

"He can’t see us." I rocked forward, once, and watched his eyes go dark. "You made sure of that. You thought about this before you even put me in the backseat, didn’t you? Before you spelled the car to make sure I have enough privacy in here."

His jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

I rolled my hips again, slow and deliberate, and the friction landed exactly where I needed it. My panties were already damp by now, rubbing exact against the hard ridge of him. My head fell back and the sound that came out of me was not dignified. It wasn’t just the drug, but months of emotions finally getting their hands on something.

His fingers dug into my hips. "You are going to-"

"Yes," I said. "I am."

My hands went to his waistcoat. It was perfectly tailored as always - charcoal gray with silver buttons, the kind of garment that made him look absolutely stunning and had girls at the academy dreaming about him.

My fingers worked the buttons, clumsy with drink and desperate. And he let me, watching with those blue eyes that looked a shade darker now that he’s not trying to hold back his own desire. His chest was rising too fast under the fine linen of his shirt.

"Let me help-"

"No." I got the last button free, then the shirt, and pushed the whole careful construction open with both hands. "I have been undressing you in my head for months. I know exactly where everything is."

His chest was pale and smooth, cool from the night, and I put both palms flat on it and heard him suck air through his teeth. His skin was marble and my hands were burning from the drink, from the heat building in me, from the sheer fact of him... and the contact was so good it almost hurt.

I dragged my hands down over his chest, over his ribs, and his stomach jumped under my fingers. I wanted to climb inside his skin.

The car hit a sudden bump. I ground down harder, chasing it, and the seam of my underwear dragged over my clit, and white static went behind my eyes.

"There," he said in a low voice, almost to himself. "There, you see-"

"Don’t tell me what I see." I leaned in, pressing my chest against his. His hands slid up my back under my coat, spreading wide, and the cold of his fingers through the thin dress made me gasp into his mouth. "I see you, Lorien. I have always seen you. I see the way you look at me when you think I’m not looking, and I see the way you have been running from this."

I kissed him again, and this time I felt him break all the way.

His mouth opened under mine and his hands buried in my hair. He kissed me back like a drowning man, desperate, hungry, all that careful restraint finally getting its throat cut. His tongue swept against mine and I moaned into his mouth.

The sound seemed to undo him further, because his hands went to my hips and pulled me down onto him, hard, and the pressure of his cock through all those layers was exactly what I’d been dying for.

"Yes," I breathed. "Yes, do that, don’t stop."

He didn’t take the lead. Even now, even with his mouth bruising mine and his hands gripping my hips, he let me ride him, let me set the rhythm. It was a gift and a penance all at once. And I took it. I took everything.

I braced my hands on his shoulders and rode him - not his cock, not yet, just the hard length of him through the fabric, my slick soaking through my underwear and his trousers both, making everything hot and wet and sliding.

The friction built and built, my clit catching on the seam of his trousers with every pass, pushing me closer to the edge of the pleasure building deep inside me. The drink and the drug and months of desire all winded together into one bright thread pulling tighter and tighter.

"Lorien." His name came out broken. His hands tightened on my hips, and he said my name back, low and wrecked, and that was the last stroke. I came apart on his lap.