Ex-Daredevil by Zoe Lee
Chapter 13
Gavin
The next morning, I woke up to find Eliott beside me, reading something on his phone peacefully, and I scrubbed my hands over my face and yawned until my jaw cracked.
“Morning,” he murmured.
“Are you hungry?” I asked. “I always wake up starving. I could make omelettes.”
He scratched his cheek, nails rasping over his beard stubble. “I should’ve known that you wake up raring to go a million miles an hour. I’d love omelettes, as long as it’s okay if I stay here and finish this chapter. It’s really engrossing,” he added sheepishly.
Snickering, I told him to stay there and went to make omelettes, then brought them back to him, asking him about what he was reading. His eyes were hazy and bemused, and he took about one bite every minute as if he were still mostly sleeping, which was adorable.
Except that it turned out, Eliott relaxed on the weekends. He admitted that he usually worked ten hours a day, sometimes longer if he was really busy, and so his weekends were his only chance to catch up on sleep and be lazy. It was rare for him to even have plans more than a couple times a month. I understood the desire, but after a morning of doing nothing but taking showers and lounging on the couch watching more Riverdale, I was getting antsy.
I wasn’t one of those people who constantly had plans because I hated being alone with my own thoughts or something, I just had tons of energy and loved doing things. Work was fun and kept me on my toes, so it didn’t feel like drudgery to earn a paycheck. So that didn’t mean I had to squeeze in all my fun when I wasn’t working, and it wasn’t draining.
“Do you want to do something?” I suggested when the episode ended and the countdown to auto-play the next one started. “We could… I don’t know, go play pool.”
“I’m good here,” Eliott said, crunching on a sweet potato chip.
The next episode began and I put my head on his shoulder, then laid my hand on his stomach. The muscles jumped under me, and the mood changed, that amazing, quiet tension as desire rose. I nuzzled his neck, and he put down the chips, then wrapped an arm around me, humming softly. Once he shifted his hips closer, I lifted my head and kissed him.
“So you’re done watching TV?” he murmured, cradling my face and anchoring me.
“Uh huh,” I agreed, then dragged him down over me as I tumbled onto my back. While I absolutely wanted him, I knew it was also a distraction technique, and I knew I’d need to figure out a way for us to spend time together that didn’t make me restless. But… later.
“Never let it be said I don’t pay attention to my date,” he said with a soft laugh, then dipped down to kiss me again. He took his time, diving deeper into the desire swirling between us with every kiss, nestling his hips into mine as our legs twined together.
When he shifted to savage my neck with his teeth, I cried out, “God yes.”
He worked his hips like he was inside of me, and when I got my hands under his shirt, his skin was overheated, that perfect almost-sweaty showing how much he wanted me. He reared back to tear his shirt off impatiently, ruining his neat hair, and pushed my sweater up to my armpits so he could nip over my chest and down to my jeans. I thought he would tear open my fly and devour me in one gulp, that was how hungry and focused he was.
But instead he nipped and nuzzled at my hardon through the layers. I threw my hands over my head and braced my palms on the arm of the couch, getting enough leverage to buck up into his mouth. I was gasping, my cock leaking and twitching, trying its best to burst through my layers of clothing to get into his talented mouth.
Finally he had mercy and lifted his head to work my jeans open, then stood up and stripped them and my briefs off me single-mindedly, my cock slapping my stomach. I looked down at the picture I made, the head of my cock flushed and wet, my thighs spread and trembling. When I looked up, he was watching me and shoving off the rest of his own clothes, his chest heaving, and I had never seen him so unraveled and uncivilized.
“Fuck, you’re sexy,” I laughed breathlessly. “C’mon, what do you want to do to me?”
“What can I do to you?” he countered just as breathlessly.
It hit me that we’d never had the sex preferences discussion. Usually I had hookups where all of that was laid out in app profiles, all of the mystery removed in favor of clarity.
“I’m not lying with my cock out and listing off all of my kinks,” I said in exasperation.
His nostrils flared as if he’d enjoy that. I made a mental note in all caps and underlined it. “How about you get over here and do whatever you’ve been imagining since we got here last night? I’m giving enthusiastic consent for anything vanilla. You want kink, that needs a conversation, and I am way too hot for you to think right now, Eliott, please—”
Before the plea was fully past my lips, he started to move. He got onto the far end of the couch and urged me up and onto my hands and knees, facing away from him. My hands returned to brace me against the arm of the couch and my head dropped like a stone between my shoulders when his hands cupped my ass, a groan ripping out of my depths.
The first touches were quick little kisses across my lower back, then down one ass cheek and the back of that thigh. I hissed out a swear as he skipped my balls and crack and just did the same thing on the other cheek and thigh. I thought he’d chuckle or tell me to be patient. Instead, he paused, breathing hard against the top of my spine. Too wound up to be subtle, I tilted my ass up, hoping to get his mouth where it clearly wanted to go.
But he didn’t, his hands just wrapped around my calves as if to steady himself.
A thought struck me, and it seemed absurd until I realized how hard he was breathing.
“If you don’t rim me in the next fifteen seconds, I’m going to make you watch me blow my load all over your leather cushions,” I threatened him, still having enough sense left to know that he needed to get out of his own mind and the fastest way was to challenge him.