Chapter 12: Morning Devotion
The first thin sliver of dawn, pale and tentative, bled through the gap in Sienna’s curtains. It painted stripes of grey light across the rug where they lay tangled in the throw blanket. Elias surfaced from sleep like a diver breaching waves, awareness crashing over him in layers. City hum. The faint scent of warm skin and beeswax. The solid, comforting weight of Sienna pressed along his side, her breathing deep and steady against his shoulder. And then, the insistent, urgent pressure. His cock, rigid and aching, strained against the confines of his jeans, pressed firmly against the soft curve of her outer thigh. It throbbed, a relentless counterpoint to the peace of the sleeping room.
He lay utterly still, savoring the contact, the heat radiating from her skin through the thin blanket and his jeans. Memories flooded back—her gasps, her shudders, the slick heat of her clenching around his finger in the candlelight, her raw vulnerability and burgeoning trust. His hand, resting lightly on her hip beneath the blanket, moved almost of its own accord. Calloused fingertips traced the lush curve he’d dreamed about since grad school, the dip of her waist, the swell of her hip bone. Slow, reverent circles. His thumb brushed the edge of the blanket where it covered her thigh, then slipped beneath the soft fabric.
His breath hitched. The skin of her inner thigh was impossibly soft, warm, yielding. He traced a path downwards, feather-light, avoiding the center but inching closer. The air beneath the blanket grew thick, humid. His fingers drifted higher, brushing the crease where thigh met body. He stilled. His knuckles grazed damp curls. A low, surprised hum vibrated in his chest. She was wet. Already. In sleep. Her body arching minutely towards his touch, seeking even unconscious.
Desire, molten and heavy, pooled low in his gut. He shifted slightly, lowering his head beneath the blanket. The scent intensified – musky, sweet, uniquely her. He pressed his lips to the silky skin just below her navel, then lower, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down her stomach. He hooked his thumb gently under the hem of her t-shirt, pushing it up and out of the way. His mouth moved lower still, over the soft swell of her lower belly, to the very top of her mound, where the blonde curls began. He breathed her in, the heady fragrance making his cock pulse painfully against denim.
He nuzzled through her curls, his lips finding the slick folds beneath. He didn’t lick, not yet. He pressed a series of soft, wet kisses along her outer lips, feeling their plump softness, the heat radiating from her core. His tongue flickered out, the barest touch against the very edge. Her body tensed. A soft sigh escaped her lips above the blanket. Her thighs shifted apart slightly. He did it again, a deliberate, slow swipe upwards through her folds, gathering her slickness. The taste exploded on his tongue – salty-sweet, rich, intoxicating. He groaned against her, the vibration making her jerk. Her eyes flew open.
"Sienna?" he murmured, his voice thick, muffled by the blanket and her skin.
"Elias?" Her voice was sleep-rough, laced with confusion. She pushed the blanket down from her face, blinking in the dim light. Her gaze darted down to where his head was buried between her legs. A flush crept up her neck. "What… what are you…?" She tried to close her thighs, but his broad shoulders prevented it. A flicker of self-consciousness, sharp and familiar, crossed her face.
He lifted his head just enough to meet her eyes, his lips glistening. "Tasting you," he stated, raw and simple. His thumb traced the slick path his tongue had just traveled. "You’re fucking soaked, Firecracker. Even in your sleep."
She bit her lip, looking away, towards the window. "You… you don’t have to, Elias. If it’s… if it’s not something you like." Her voice was small, tight with an insecurity that cut him deeper than any blade.
He froze. The words hung in the dawn air, absurd and heartbreaking. He pulled himself up fully, bracing on one elbow beside her, his gaze pinning hers. His eyes, usually calm, blazed with an intensity that made her breath catch. "Not like it?" he echoed, disbelief hardening his tone. He searched her face. "Who the fuck," he asked, his voice dangerously low, roughened by sleep and lust and sudden, protective fury, "put that goddamn idea in your head? Who made you think anyone with a shred of sense wouldn’t crawl through broken glass for a taste of this?" His hand slid down, cupping her mound possessively through her damp curls, his thumb pressing firmly against her clit.
She flinched, not from pain, but from the raw possessiveness in his touch and voice. "I… I just… it’s not exactly pretty, down there. It’s messy. And… thick, you know? Like the rest of me," she mumbled, gesturing vaguely at her body. The insecurity she usually masked with wit was laid bare, raw and vulnerable.
He stared at her, stunned. Then, a low growl rumbled in his chest. He hooked his hands under her knees, spreading her thighs wide open, baring her completely to the cool morning air and his scorching gaze. She gasped, trying to cover herself, but he caught her wrists gently, pinning them beside her head. "Look," he commanded, his voice dropping to a husky rasp. "Fucking look at how goddamn beautiful you are."
His eyes devoured her. "Look at these curves," he breathed, his gaze sweeping over her exposed belly, her hips, the lush fullness of her thighs. "Soft. Perfect. Made for holding onto." He leaned down, his lips brushing the crease of her thigh. "Look at these lips," he murmured, tracing one plump outer lip with the tip of his tongue. "So fucking pink and swollen. Like ripe fruit." He licked a long, slow stripe from her entrance up through her folds, making her cry out. "See how they glisten? How they open for me?" He dipped the tip of his tongue inside her entrance, tasting her deeply. "Christ, Sienna. Your taste… it’s fucking ambrosia. Salty-sweet, musky… I could drink you down and never get enough." He circled her clit slowly with the broad flat of his tongue, his eyes locked on hers. "And this…" He blew a soft stream of cool air over the wet bud, making her shudder violently. "This perfect little pearl. Hard as a fucking diamond for me already. So pink. So responsive. Just begging for my mouth."
He released her wrists, letting his hands roam possessively over her hips, her belly, anchoring her as he lowered his head again. "Pretty?" he scoffed against her skin, his breath hot. "It’s fucking exquisite. It’s you. And every single inch of you," he growled, punctuating each word with a soft, sucking kiss to her inner thigh, moving inexorably closer to her core, "is goddamn perfect. And mine to worship."
He sealed his mouth over her. Not tentative, not cautious. Possessive. Hungry. His tongue delved deep into her entrance, lapping up her wetness. He circled her clit with firm, insistent strokes of his tongue, then sucked it gently into his mouth. He feasted. Slow, deep licks that explored every fold, every sensitive ridge. The flat of his tongue pressed hard against her clit, then flicked rapidly over the swollen bud. He hummed, the vibration shooting straight to her core. He slid two fingers slowly into her dripping entrance, curling them upwards, finding that sweet spot instantly.
"Oh God! Elias! Right there!" she gasped, her hips lifting off the rug, seeking more pressure, more friction. The explicit worship, the filthy, adoring words, the relentless skill of his mouth and fingers were obliterating her lingering doubts, replacing them with pure, overwhelming sensation. Her hands flew to his hair, not pushing him away, but fisting in the dark strands, holding him exactly where he was.
He groaned against her, the sound vibrating through her clit. He added a third finger, stretching her slowly, carefully, feeling her tightness yield, her slick walls gripping him greedily. His mouth never left her clit, sucking, licking, devouring. He matched the rhythm of his fingers inside her – deep, curling thrusts pressing relentlessly against that spongy spot – with the circling pressure of his tongue. He could feel her body tightening like a bowstring, her breath coming in sharp, ragged gasps. Her moans turned into high, keening cries.
"Taste how fucking sweet you are," he growled against her, his voice thick and muffled. "Feel how much I love this cunt. My cunt. Come for me, baby. Let me feel you come on my face." He sucked her clit hard, pulling it into his mouth, his tongue flicking rapidly as his fingers pistoned deep inside her, hitting that spot again and again.
It was too much. The building pressure snapped. Her body bowed off the rug, rigid. A scream tore from her throat, raw and unrestrained. Her inner walls clamped down on his thrusting fingers in violent, rhythmic spasms, milking them. Her thighs trembled violently, trying to clamp shut around his head, but he held them open, relentless. He kept sucking, kept licking, kept pressing inside her as wave after wave of ecstasy ripped through her, prolonging the agonizing bliss until she was sobbing his name, tears leaking from her squeezed-shut eyes, utterly wrecked.
He gentled slowly, his tongue lapping softly at her oversensitive clit, his fingers stilling deep inside her, letting her ride out the last tremors. He kissed her inner thigh, then her hip, his breath ragged. He withdrew his fingers slowly, glistening wetly in the dim light. He brought them to her lips. "Taste," he commanded softly, his eyes dark with desire and fierce adoration. "Taste how fucking beautiful you are."
Dazed, trembling, she opened her mouth. He slid his slick fingers inside, letting her taste her own musky sweetness mixed with his saliva. The intimacy of it, the raw carnality, sent a fresh shiver through her. He watched her suck his fingers clean, his jaw clenched, the bulge in his jeans painfully apparent. He leaned forward, capturing her lips in a deep, possessive kiss, sharing the taste of her climax. When he finally pulled back, his gaze burned into hers, still kneeling between her open thighs. "Never," he rasped, his voice rough with need and unslaked desire, "ever again question how much I fucking crave this. Every curve. Every taste. Every fucking inch." His hand drifted down, his knuckles brushing the wet, swollen flesh he’d just worshipped. "Especially this." He shifted, the hard ridge of his cock pressing against her inner thigh. "Now, Firecracker… what am I going to do about this?"
The thick ridge of Elias’s cock pressed against her bare thigh, a hot, demanding brand through the denim. Sienna’s gaze flickered from his burning eyes to that impossible bulge, the memory of its intimidating size flooding back, followed instantly by the fierce tenderness in his voice as he’d dismantled her fears. Raw vulnerability warred with the slick arousal still humming through her veins. Her hand, trembling slightly, drifted downwards. Her fingers brushed the rough fabric covering him, tracing the rigid length. "This," she breathed, her voice husky, echoing his earlier question. "I want… I want to taste you."
Elias’s breath hitched, a sharp intake that tightened his abs. He watched her, utterly still, his control a visible vibration beneath his skin. "Yeah?" His voice was gravel scraped raw. "You sure, Firecracker?"
Instead of answering, she pushed herself up onto her knees. The morning light caught the sheen of sweat on her collarbone, the soft sway of her breasts beneath her t-shirt. Her hands fumbled with his belt buckle, the metallic clink loud in the quiet apartment. He shifted, helping her shove his jeans and boxers down his hips just enough. His cock sprang free, thick and heavy, flushed a deep red, the vein running along its underside pulsing visibly. A bead of pre-come glistened at the slit. The sheer size of him, freed from the denim, made her breath catch. He was thicker than her wrist, the head broad and smooth.
"Fuck, look at you," Elias groaned, his hand tangling in her hair, not forcing, just anchoring. "Look at my pretty girl, wanting my cock in her mouth." He guided her head gently downwards. "Go slow, baby. Just the tip first. Get used to it." His other hand gripped his shaft at the base, holding it steady.
The musky, masculine scent of him filled her nostrils – skin, salt, desire. Tentatively, she opened her mouth, leaning forward. Her tongue darted out, tasting the salty bead of pre-come. The flavor was primal, intense. She licked a tentative stripe up the underside, from base to tip, feeling the velvety skin, the rigid heat. Elias hissed, his fingers tightening fractionally in her hair. "Good girl," he rumbled. "Just like that. Taste me."
Encouraged, she took the broad head into her mouth, sucking gently. Her lips stretched wide to accommodate him. She swirled her tongue around the sensitive ridge beneath the head. He groaned, a deep, guttural sound that vibrated through her. "Christ, Sienna. Your mouth… fucking perfect." He guided her head down a fraction more, letting her take another inch. The thickness stretched her jaw, filled her senses. She sucked, hollowing her cheeks, focusing on the head, her tongue working the frenulum.
"More," he ground out, his hips shifting almost imperceptibly. "Try a little more, baby. Slow." He eased her head down further. She took another inch, then another. The thick shaft pressed against the roof of her mouth, the back of her throat. Her eyes watered as she fought her gag reflex, breathing harshly through her nose. She felt impossibly full, her jaw aching.
"Easy," Elias murmured, his voice strained but controlled. He saw the struggle in her watering eyes, the slight tensing of her throat. He didn't let her pull off. Instead, his thumb stroked her cheek. "Breathe through your nose, Firecracker. Just breathe. Relax your throat. You can take it. Such a good girl for me, taking my cock so deep." He applied the slightest pressure, holding her head steady as she adjusted. "That's it. Feel you opening up for me. Fuck, you feel incredible."
She focused on his voice, on the praise, forcing her throat muscles to unclench. She sucked tentatively as he held her there, the head nudging the entrance to her throat. The sensation was overwhelming, intense, a mixture of discomfort and a raw, thrilling submission. Spit slicked his shaft, dripping down onto his balls. "You look fucking beautiful like this," he rasped, watching her. "My thick, gorgeous girl, on her knees, choking on my cock. Perfect fucking mouth." He eased her head back slightly, letting her pull off just enough to gasp for air, her lips still wrapped around the shaft.
"Deep enough?" he asked, his thumb brushing her lower lip, slick with their combined wetness.
She nodded, breathless, her eyes locked on his. "Want… want to try more," she managed, the words vibrating around his cock.
His groan was pure need. "Such a brave fucking girl. My good girl." He guided her head down again, slowly, steadily. "Here it comes, baby. Take it deep." The thick head nudged past the resistance at the back of her throat. She gagged, a harsh, involuntary sound, her body tensing. Elias held her firmly but gently, his hand cradling her head. "Breathe," he commanded, his own breath ragged. "Just breathe. Let it in. Relax that pretty throat. Good girl. Oh, fuck, good girl, Sienna."
She choked, tears spilling over, but forced herself to inhale through her nose, focusing on the sensation, the overwhelming fullness, the sound of his desperate praise. Slowly, the spasm eased. She felt the broad head slide deeper into her throat, a profound, stretching intrusion. He held her there, buried to the hilt, her nose pressed against the coarse hair at his base, his cock pulsating heavily in her throat. "Jesus fucking Christ," Elias gasped, his free hand fisting in the rug, knuckles white. "Look at you. Taking it all. Every fucking inch. Swallowing me whole." He let her adjust for a few agonizing seconds, feeling the flutter and squeeze of her throat around him. "Fucking perfect. My perfect, filthy girl." He began to move her head slowly, pulling her back until just the head remained, then easing her down again, fucking her mouth with deliberate, shallow thrusts. "Suck me, baby. Suck my cock like you need it. Dirty little mouth."
Sienna obeyed, sucking hard as he withdrew, hollowing her cheeks, then relaxing her throat as he pushed back in. Her jaw ached, her throat burned, but the sounds he made, the raw need and fervent praise – "Just like that, good girl… fuck yes, take it… such a good fucking cocksucker" – fueled her. Spit and pre-come coated her chin, dripped onto her chest. She looked up at him through wet lashes, her eyes wide, vulnerable, yet filled with a dawning power as she watched him unravel above her, his control splintering with every slide of her lips, every desperate noise she made around him. His hips began to jerk slightly, betraying the tension coiling tighter and tighter in his powerful frame, the ragged edge in his voice sharpening as he kept guiding her, kept murmuring filthy praise.
Elias’s hips jerked again, a sharp stutter against her lips. “Fuck, Sienna… gonna come,” he rasped, the words thick and strained. His fingers tightened almost painfully in her hair, pulling her head back until his slick cock popped free from her mouth with a wet gasp. Strands of saliva stretched between her swollen lips and the glistening head. “Not down your throat… not yet.” His chest heaved, the muscles in his arms corded with tension as he fought for control. “Want it on you. Want you to see it.”
He shoved his jeans lower, freeing his heavy balls. His fist wrapped around the base of his cock, slick with her spit and his pre-come. He angled it downwards, the swollen, ruddy head hovering inches above her glistening pussy. The thick bead of pre-come clinging to his slit trembled, then fell, landing hot and wet right on her swollen clit. Sienna gasped, arching sharply off the rug. “Oh! Elias!”
“Look,” he commanded, his voice rough, grinding the words out. His thumb smeared the viscous fluid over her sensitive bud, mixing it with her own slickness. She cried out, her hips lifting desperately towards his touch. “See that? That’s for you. My cock’s fucking weeping for this tight little cunt.” He lowered himself, bracing on his elbows above her, his gaze locked on where his cock hovered, a thick, veined threat above her drenched folds. The heat radiating from him, from his cock, was immense. He rubbed the broad, slick head of his cock slowly, deliberately, through her slick folds, coating himself in her arousal. The sensation was electric – the hot velvet slide against her outer lips, the blunt pressure teasing her entrance without breaching it. Her hips jerked uncontrollably. “Fuck! Please!”
“Just the tip, Firecracker,” he growled, his voice vibrating with restraint. He pressed the thick crown firmly against her opening. She felt the stretch instantly, a delicious, terrifying pressure. Her inner muscles fluttered wildly, trying to pull him in. He held himself rigid, letting her feel the insistent pressure, the sheer size of him poised to invade. Pre-come leaked freely now, slicking her entrance. “Feel that? Feel how fucking hard I am for you? How much I want to shove all this thick cock deep inside that perfect wet hole?” He ground the head against her, rubbing it in slow circles, smearing their combined wetness. “But I’m not. Not yet.” He shifted slightly, dragging the broad head upwards, grinding it firmly against her clit instead. The direct pressure, amplified by the slippery friction of his pre-come, was blinding.
“Yes! Right there! Elias!” she screamed, her hands scrabbling at his shoulders, her back arching off the rug. Her thighs trembled violently. He kept the relentless pressure on her clit, rubbing his cockhead against it in slow, deliberate circles, watching her face contort with building ecstasy. His own jaw was clenched tight, sweat beading on his temples, the veins in his neck standing out. The restraint was costing him, his cock pulsing angrily against her clit, desperate for the tight heat just millimeters away.
“Gonna make you come just like this,” he ground out, his voice tight with his own straining control. “Just rubbing my fucking cockhead on your greedy little clit. Feel it? Feel how fucking close you are?” He increased the pressure slightly, the broad, smooth ridge pressing hard against the swollen bud. Her cries turned frantic, high-pitched. Her hips bucked wildly against his hand, against the thick intrusion teasing her entrance. “That’s it… take it… come on my cock, Sienna. Soak it. Show me how fucking bad you want it inside.”
The command, raw and filthy, tipped her over the edge she’d been teetering on. Pleasure detonated, a white-hot supernova centered entirely on the point where his cockhead ground against her clit. Her vision whited out. A raw, guttural scream ripped from her throat, echoing off the apartment walls. Her inner muscles clenched violently around nothing, milking the air, her hips jerking in uncontrollable spasms against his relentless pressure. Wetness gushed from her, soaking his cockhead, his hand, the rug beneath them.
Elias watched her shatter, his own control fraying to nothing. The sight of her coming apart purely from the friction of his cockhead against her clit, the feel of her hot release coating him, the sound of her desperate screams – it was too much. A harsh groan tore from his throat. His fist tightened brutally on the shaft just below the head he was still grinding against her spasming clit. His hips jerked forward involuntarily, the thick head pressing impossibly harder against her oversensitive flesh as his own climax ripped through him. Thick ropes of hot come erupted violently, splattering across her trembling belly, her heaving breasts, her still-throbbing clit. Pulse after pulse shot from him, coating her skin in streaks of white, mixing with her own slick wetness. He groaned her name, a raw, broken sound, his body shuddering violently above hers as he emptied himself onto her, marking her skin with the physical proof of his restraint and his desperate release. He collapsed onto his forearms, his forehead pressed against her shoulder, his breath ragged gasps against her skin, his cock still pulsing weakly against her hip, sticky and spent. The scent of sex – salty, musky, primal – hung thick and heavy in the dawn-lit room.