Elias (New Adult Romance) (West Bend Saints Book 1) (16 page)

This was very much
not
who I was, the way I was with him, practically panting, begging for sex.

"Because," Elias said.  "I asked you to."

It was a non-response, and it made no sense at all that I just did what he said.  But I did.  I raised my ass off the seat of the car, and I slid my jeans back down over my hips, my thumbs hooked under the sides of my panties, before I sat back down, my ass bare on the cool leather seat.  My heart thumped loudly in my chest with the anticipation of him touching me.

But that's not what he did.

"I want you to touch yourself," he said.

"What?"  I couldn’t quite believe that he was so forward, regardless of all that I've heard come out of his mouth so far.

"You heard me," he said.  "I want you to put your hands between your legs and touch yourself.  I want you to come for me."

"Why don't you just bring your hand over here?" I asked, but I was already stroking my clit, my finger moving absently around as I waited for his response.  

I felt like I was on display.  
That's what he wants,
I thought.

"Because I want to see you do it," he said.

I wanted him to put his fingers inside me.  I wanted to feel the rough calluses on the tips of his fingers as he stroked my swollen clit.  I meant to ask him what the calluses were from.   Instead, I whispered, “Then tell me what you else want to do to me.”

He raised his eyebrows, and glanced over at me quickly.  “I’m not going to tell you what I
want
to do.  I’m going to tell you what I’m
going
to do to you...in, oh, about fifteen minutes.”  He paused, and I moved my fingers in circles around my clit while I waited for him to tell me more.

"Ok, then," I said, my fingers still moving.  "What are you going to do to me?"

“I'm going to put my mouth on your tits, suck them until your nipples are hard as rocks.”

He paused, and all I could hear in the car was the sound of my breathing getting shallower, the white noise of the car traveling on the road, and his voice, echoing in my head.

“Keep going,” Elias said.  “Are you wet?”

“Yes,” I whispered, my fingers moving faster.

“How wet?” he asked.  Now he was the one to squirm in his seat, and I watched as he tried to adjust the bulge that was evident in his jeans.

“Really wet.”  It was true.  I was unbelievably turned on.  My body just reacted to him, completely out of my control.

"Good," he said.  "I'm going to lick you from one end to the other, clit to slit.  I'm going to fuck you with my tongue until you're begging for my cock."

Elias reached between my legs, touched his finger to my wetness, and groaned, veering toward the shoulder of the road and then quickly correcting it.  I was insanely pleased that I had this kind of effect on him.  Way too pleased for my own good.

He took his hand away, and I sighed, but I was too far gone to be self-conscious about doing this in front of him.  He talked to me, told me what he planned to do with me when we got wherever he was about to take me, and I felt myself hurtling toward a climax as he told me how his cock would feel as he slid inside me.

When I finished, I looked at him, eyes wide.  I couldn't believe I'd just done that in front of him.  He laughed and shook his head.  “You’ve got no clue what you’re doing to me right now,” he said.

I was completely self-conscious.  Elias looked over at me and I felt myself flush again.  Then his eyes were straight ahead, back on the road.

"Don't even," he said.

"What?" I asked.  I pulled my jeans up over my hips, completely embarrassed that I just let myself be so totally drunk with lust that I did what I just did.

"I can see it on your face," he said.  "You're embarrassed."

"I'm not," I protested, but my voice sounded weak.

"You're blushing," he said.  "Hope you're not embarrassed, because I'm sure as shit not.  In fact, in five minutes, I'm going to bend your ass over and show you just how not embarrassed I am."

I laughed at his bluntness.  I couldn’t help myself.  "Do you always talk like this?"

"Like what?" he asked, his tone playful.  But he grinned when he glanced at me, this smile that was a cross between child-like innocence and the most wicked thing I'd ever seen.

"Like this," I said.  "Telling girls what you're going to do to them."

"Well, first of all," Elias said.  "You're no girl, that's for sure.  You're a grown ass woman.  If no man's ever told you what he wants to do to you, then I feel sorry for you."

No man had ever told me what he wanted to do to me.  Not like this.  Not in the way that made me want to let him do whatever he wanted to do to me.

"Okay," I said.  "Let's have it, then."

"Have what?"

"What you intend to do with me, exactly."

He grinned.  "We're going to be there in two minutes."

I was disappointed when he wasn’t explicit, the way he was a minute ago.  "Uh-huh."

"Don't get impatient," he said.  "I'm getting there.  As soon as we get inside the door of that house, I'm going to peel those jeans down over your ass.  Then I'm going to bury my cock inside you."

"Oh," I said.

I was in that post-orgasmic state where I felt relaxed and drowsy, so much so that for a second it didn’t register that he was slowing down the car.

“Better put your ass back in those jeans,” he said, pulling into the driveway and slowing to a stop.  "Don't want anyone else seeing what's mine."

I slid my jeans up and buttoned them.  He was already out of the car and opening my door before I registered what he'd said.  "What's yours, huh?" I asked.  "What makes you think my ass is yours?"

He backed me up against the side of the car, eyes filled with lust.  "You saying it's not?"  His fingers moved to the waistband of my jeans, and I inhaled sharply, my heart pounding.

"We only just screwed," I said.  "You're staking a claim on me now?"

He turned me around, his back facing June and Cade's house, his body shielding me from their view, then flicked open the button of my jeans and reached between my legs.  He slipped his fingers inside me, then leaned close to me.  "I think you want to be claimed," he whispered.  "Am I wrong?"  He stroked me with his fingers.

He wasn't wrong,
I thought.  But I didn't answer.  I wasn't about to tell him that he'd already left his mark on me.

Then he brought me inside and staked his claim on me again.  Later that night, lying in his arms, almost asleep but not quite, I had the vague sense of being at peace. 

A car horn blared through the air, jolting me awake.

“What the fuck?” Elias’ voice was gruff but still sleepy as he pulled me against him, his erection pressing into my back.

Then I heard it- the low murmur of voices outside.  “Elias,” I whispered.

“What?”  His eyes were closed and he held me tight against him.  “Just five more minutes of sleep.”

“Let me go for a second.  I need to see what that noise is."  I padded to the window and peered out.  "Damn it."

"What's wrong?" Elias mumbled, still groggy.  He rolled over onto his stomach and buried his face in his pillow.  "Come back to bed."

"No.  Fuck.  You don't understand," I said, scrambling for my clothes.  "They're here."

"Huh?"  Elias asked.  "Who's here?"

"Photographers.  Where the fuck is my shirt?"  I looked around the room at the clothes strewn everywhere, the condom wrappers on the floor.  "Fuck."

Now Elias was awake, reaching for his prosthetic beside the bed and clicking it into place.  I felt myself irritated with him for not hurrying, even thought it wasn't his fault.  Irritated with the photographers outside.  Irritated with everything that it meant, that I'd been found.

Irritated that it meant I'd have to leave.  And with myself that I hadn't told Elias everything.  I hadn't been honest with him.  I hadn't told him I'd need to go back.

Elias walked to the window naked, and peered outside.  "It's just photographers," he said.  "And it's only a few.  They're in the driveway.  It's not like they're inside the house."

"Get away from the window!" I said.  My voice came out loud, louder than I intended.  "They'll have telephoto lenses.  Do you want to be naked in all the fucking tabloid magazines?"

Elias turned around and grinned.  "Eh," he said.  "Do you really want to know the answer to that question?"

"I'm not fucking kidding," I said.  "Put some clothes on."

"Why are you being such a nut about this?" he asked.  "It's a couple of photographers.  It's not the end of the world."  He crossed the room, slid his arms around my waist.  "We could just go back to bed and ignore them."

I pushed him away.  "Easy for you to say."

"Seriously?"  Elias passed me as he walked to the bathroom.  "Suddenly you give a shit what the media thinks?  You didn't seem to give a rat's ass before."  The door closed behind him.  When he came out, he was stony-faced, pulling on clothes.  "If you're fucking embarrassed to have anyone find out you're fucking me, then say so.  Otherwise, I don't see what the big deal it is that there are a handful of photographers outside the house."

"This isn't a movie or something," I said, tossing him his shirt.  "This is my fucking life.  You'll get a photo in the tabloids and get congratulated and high-fived by every fucking guy in America for boning me.  The magazines will write articles about how I ran off to Colorado slutting it up after I ran away from my fucking wedding."

Elias opened his mouth to respond, but a loud crack reverberated through the air.

It was the unmistakable sound of a shotgun being fired.

"Fucking hell."  I reached for my piece in my bag and went straight out the door, looking over my shoulder.  "Stay here.  Don't move."

"You have a gun?" I heard River say, but I ignored her.

Racing down the stairs, I opened the front door.  I had no idea how psychotic these reporters were, but whoever the fuck just fired a shot was going to get himself shot.

When I walked outside, Cade was standing in the meadow between the houses, his shotgun in hand.  June was a few feet behind him, brandishing a shotgun in one hand and a baby monitor in the other.

Cade walked toward the driveway in long strides.  "That was the only warning shot I'm firing," he said, nodding toward the photographer who was brazen enough to hold up his cell phone to capture the scene on video.  "Record this shit all you want.  Share it with your friends.  Post it on the internet.  But this is private fucking property, and not a single one of you is welcome here.  So I'd thank you kindly to get the fuck off my land."

I walked out behind him, and Cade grinned.  "Brought your own, huh?"

"Shit, man," I said.  "I thought someone was out here getting shot."

Cade laughed, nodding toward the reporters who'd pulled back to the main road.  "Nah," he said.  "Just giving those bastards a little scare, is all."

"Think any of them shit their pants?" I asked.

Cade laughed.  "Hope so."  He looked up, and I turned to see River on the front steps.

"What the -?" she asked, her mouth open.

Cade turned.  "We've got to get back to the house," he said to me.  "Before little Stan wakes up.  Don't think they'll bother you for a little while now, at least."

I walked back inside and shut River in the house with me.  Her eyes went from me to the weapon.

"You came here armed?"

"I've got a permit for it," I said.

She shook her head.  "I don't know what the fuck to think about you."

"It's Colorado," I said, unloading the magazine and setting the weapon on a shelf in the living room.  "It's all ranches out here.  Everyone's carrying."

"Those reporters are probably going to sue or something," she said.  "Is Cade fucking crazy?"

"Firing a warning shot like that?" I asked.  "What are they going to sue for?  Nobody got hurt.  He's just protecting what's his."

"And you," River said.  "You punched the reporter back in Vegas already."

"So?"

"So, do you not do anything civilized?"

I leaned against the wall and raised my eyebrows.  "Are you complaining about Cade chasing off the same people you were just terrified of not ten minutes ago?"

"No. I'm trying to figure out if you're a total psycho who's going to run around threatening anyone who dares to get near me."

I walked up to her, pulled her toward me, and felt her inhale sharply.  "I will
fucking promise
I'll do more than just threaten anyone who hurts you."

"You can't do that, Elias," she said, but her voice was breathy, her eyes large.

"Why?" I asked.  "Because it's not civilized?"

"It's not..."  Her voice trailed off.

"Well, I've got news for you," I said.  "I'm not fucking civilized.  Cade's protecting what's his, and I'll do the same damn thing."

"You think I'm yours?" she asked.

"You're mine whether you know it now or not," I said, interrupting her when she opened her mouth to protest.  "Don't even say it.  I know I don't fucking own you and shit.  I'm not a caveman.  But nobody fucks with you.  You're mine, and I'm not going to fucking apologize for it, so you can just deal."

River's mouth opened again, but she didn't say anything.  So I kissed her, hard on the mouth, and felt her melt against me.  "Now," I said.  "Before we got so rudely interrupted this morning, I was having a little dream about you."

"About what exactly?" she asked.  She ran her tongue along the top of her lip, and it made me instantly hard.

"Come upstairs and I'll show you," I said.

River slid into bed beside me.

"I don't know why you're sneaking up to that window, all stealth-like and shit," I said.

"I just wanted to see if they'd left."

"I'd just assume they didn't."

She slipped into the bed beside me.  "It's frustrating."

"I would guess so," I said.  "But maybe stop taking it so damn seriously."

She rolled onto her side, propped her head up on her hand.  "It
is
serious."

"No," I said.  "It's not.  Getting shot at is serious.  Getting blown up, that's serious.  Missing your kid's first steps because you're deployed, that's serious.  Photographers following you around because they want to talk about your breakup?  It's not fucking serious."

River exhaled, averted her eyes.  "Fuck," she said.  "I'm one of those spoiled Hollywood brats, something I never thought I'd be.  I'm like, a total dick."

"Nah," I said.  "You're not a total dick.  More like half a dick."

"I've been really selfish," she said.

I tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.  "Happens to the best of us."

She was quiet, her forehead wrinkled in the middle.  "It's weird, all of this, you know?  The whole fame thing.  I never thought I would be famous.  It just happened.  And it was amazing, back then, you know?  Going from not knowing where my next meal was coming from to having more money than I knew what to do with."

She scrunched her forehead, was quiet for a minute.

"But then, it didn't actually change anything, with my mother and my sister, you know?  Like, it didn't change who my mother was, the kind of person she was.  It just gave her more funding."

I didn't say anything, just waited for River to talk.

"The magazines, they sell this story about me - it's this fairytale version of me, you know?  Rags to riches, it sells.  But it leaves out all the shit parts, the parts about what it was like growing up in a hick town, with a mom who brings home pretty much anyone, who doesn't give a shit what asshole guys get near her kids."

I realized the implications of what River was saying, the kind of hell she was raised in, and felt a surge of empathy for her.  I just didn't know what to say, especially after I'd basically called her spoiled.

"Then, somewhere along the line, the fame thing just started spiraling out of control," she said.  "I went from being just another actress making a lot of money to being a brand, you know?  It was all of a sudden.  You become this commodity, and then there are people pushing and pulling you in different directions, calculating how much everything you do is worth.  Every decision you make is based on that- the net worth of your next move.  And everyone is watching."

"It's just a job," I said.  "Not who you are.  It doesn't have to define you."

"Did you feel that way about your job?"

I exhaled.  "No," I admitted.  "EOD was who I was.  I joined when I was seventeen.  Been fucking working around explosives even before that."

"Why?"

"My father," I said.  "Mined the side of the mountain back behind my house for years when we were kids.  Blasted away at that shit little by little."

"So then you went into diffusing bombs," she said.

I nodded.  "I knew how to do it.  I was comfortable with it."

"Do you ever regret it?"

"EOD?" I asked.  "Fuck no."

"But you lost your leg doing it."

"So?"  I asked.  "I meant what I said before.  It's just a fucking leg.  Not the end of the world.  Most of the guys out there, the grunts and shit, they go into it figuring something will happen.  Better you lose a limb than die, you know?"

"Do you ever wish you did something different, though?" she asked.  "Took a different path or something?"

"Regret's a waste of time," I said.  "Your path is your path, for better or worse.  It is what it is.  You don't know what's going to happen in life.  You've got right now and that's it.  Can't change the past, can't predict the future."  I paused, realizing what a pompous ass I sounded like.  "That's my two cents worth of philosophizing for you.  That's about all it's worth, anyway."

River ran her finger across my chest.  "Anyone ever tell you you're a wise man, Elias Saint?"

I laughed.  "Not one fucking time," I said.  "Are you regretting where you are now?"

"Here, with you?" she asked.  "No.  Being in Hollywood?  I don't know."

"When's the last time you were really happy?"  I asked.

"Here, now," she answered, without hesitation.

"What about before that?"

River looked thoughtful.  "I don't know," she said.  "Maybe...when I was a kid, I'd take my sister down to the creek near our house sometimes and we'd wander along the edge, skip rocks, look for frogs.  It was nice.  We'd stay away from the house for hours, mostly when it wasn't safe to go home."

"How old were you?" I asked.

"Oh God, I don't know," River said.  "Maybe eight or something?"

"And that's the last time you remember feeling really happy?"

She shrugged.  "I think so...That's kind of pathetic, huh?"

"Yeah, pretty much," I said.  "Maybe you ought to do something about that."

"You think you can?" she asked.  "Make your own happiness, I mean?"

I shrugged.  "I don't know," I said.  That was the million dollar fucking question.

"What would you do, if you could?"

"If I could make my own happiness?" I asked.  "Fucking bottle that shit and sell it."

River rolled her eyes.  "I mean, what would make you happy?  What would you do, if you could do anything?"

"Don't laugh," I said.

"Okay."

"I weld shit," I told her.

"Like, metal?"

"Yeah," I said.  "Got into it in the Navy.  It's a hobby.  I don't know what the hell I could do with it, but if I could get paid to do it, that's what I would do."

"What do you weld?"

"I've made all kinds of shit," I said.  "Some, when I was deployed.  Got pieces of scrap metal and stuff, made furniture, stupid stuff, to make life more comfortable."