The room was cloaked in a sultry hush, the dim lighting cast warm shadows over the silk that clung to my body. I sat back in the velvet armchair, one leg draped lazily over the armrest, my glass of red swirling slowly in hand.
Elias stood before me, tall and unreadable as always. His eyes never wavered from mine, not even once.
He didn't flinch. There was no pause, no expression of surprise or reluctance; only quiet obedience as he slipped off his jacket and unbuttoned his shirt with the same calm he reserved for breaking bones.
Each motion revealed more of the man I had come to rely on, carved in strength and discipline. His chest was a canvas of scars and muscle, his body as coldly beautiful as a blade.
My gaze raked over him, slow and indulgent as he took off a piece of clothing one after the other. He wasn't just a bodyguard anymore. Not tonight. Tonight, he was mine.
"Get on your knees." I said softly.
Elias obeyed, lowering himself in front of like a slave kneeling before his queen. His hands rested on his thighs, shoulders squared, head slightly tilted up, waiting.
There was nothing meek about him, and his submission most definitely wasn't weakness. It was something deeper, a quiet understanding of power… and the choice to yield.
I set the wineglass aside and parted my robe with a slow, practiced motion. There was no shame in the way I bared myself, my body wasn't something I was ashamed to reveal; It was a temple.
And he would worship.
Elias's eyes dropped instantly, and for the first time, he didn't pretend not to look. His gaze swept over every inch of me; my breasts, my hips, the wet glisten between my thighs.
He was already hard. His cock was thick, and fully erect. My pulse skipped. The sheer size of him made my thighs clench, my mouth watered. I could already imagine the stretch it would cause, the burn.
But I wasn't ready for that yet. Not until he earned it.
"Come closer," I ordered.
He moved closer without hesitation. His eyes didn't leave mine, but I saw the twitch of his cock at the command. Obedience looked good on him. Beautiful, in fact.
I reached for him, my fingers sank into the dark thickness of his hair, and tugged him forward until his mouth hovered just above my slick entrance. I didn't guide him gently; I pulled, firm and sure, until his lips brushed my slit.
Then I let go, he knew what to do.
His mouth was everything I imagined it would be; hot, wet, reverent. The first touch of his tongue made my back arch and a guttural noise escape my throat, half gasp, half growl.
My head fell back, hair spilling over my shoulders, breath leaving in stuttering bursts.
He ate me like he'd been starving. Long, slow strokes of his tongue that circled and dragged, then quick flicks that had my legs twitching, my fingers tangled into in his hair once more. I rocked against him, grinding my pussy shamelessly against his mouth, chasing that high with every roll of my hips.
The robe slipped open completely, and I didn't fix it, I let it fall, I let it bare everything. I wanted to be seen and devoured.
"Fuck....Elias." My voice was ruined already. Thick with heat and gravel. "Don't you dare stop."
I had never felt like this before, and I didn't want it to stop, not now, not ever.
His grip tightened on my thighs, holding me steady as I shook. I came with a sharp cry, my thighs trembled around his face, every nerve raw and flaming. I could barely breathe, but I didn't care.
I now understood what all the fuss was about, all the giggling and the fantasies, I understood now.
I pushed him back by the shoulder, panting. But I wasn't finished yet.
"Use your fingers." I rasped.
The look he gave me wasn't expression; it was violence barely caged. It was desire stripped bare and feral. And it turned me on more than anything ever had.
His hand moved between my legs, and I gasped at the stretch his fingers caused. He slid two deep inside, curling them, pumping them slow at first, then faster, rougher, until I was grinding down on his hand, breath ragged, hair clinging to my damp skin.
I was soaked, I was a fucking mess, and I loved it.
"Harder," I snapped.
He obeyed. Of course he did.
Each thrust of his fingers made my body jerk. I moaned without shame, without restraint. The room suddenly smelled like sex, heat, and something darker; something mine.
I gripped the armrest of the chair so hard my knuckles ached, chasing the edge until I was teetering. Then it hit me.
The second orgasm ripped through me like lightning. I cried out, loud and broken, a sound I didn't even recognize as my own. My pussy clenched around his fingers as my entire body convulsed from the wave of pleasure.
I slumped back, chest heaving, sweat glistening on every inch of me.
And still, Elias knelt.
I opened my eyes and looked down at him. He was flushed, his cock was flushed dark with blood and still standing hard, untouched. His jaw was tight.
His eyes burned, I could tell he was painfully hard, painfully turned on, and I loved it. I smiled, lazy and dangerous.
"Clean yourself up."
He stood slowly, every movement smooth and controlled, but I saw the tension ripple across his muscles. I saw the way his cock twitched; aching, waiting, needing to be touched and rubbed.
I lifted the wineglass, the rim brushing my lips as I watched him. My robe had fallen halfway off my shoulder, baring my breasts which I didn't bother to conceal.
He remained in front of me, hard, silent, waiting.
My pussy still pulsed, my body still hummed, but I was done for now. I
would call on him when next I needed to pacify my body.
"That will be all." I said.