The Amber Shift

Fifty

Noelle

The look on Elijah's face exhilarates me, and while I shouldn't, I keep pushing him further and further until he can't stand it anymore.

I need him to let go. He knows I'm ready. He knows I don't care what my father said, that I will do whatever I have to do to beat him. That I believe Elijah can take him down—that we can take him down together.

I lean back against the side of the hot tub with both of my arms propped on the concrete edge, my breasts forward, the fullest part peeking over the surface of the water. My hair is loose, falling in messy waves around my shoulders. I run my eyes up and down his body, and even what isn't hidden under the water makes me clench my thighs together. His chest is perfectly chiseled, his shoulders broad, biceps the perfect size.

I sigh and shake my head. "How is it possible that you are so fucking perfect?"

Elijah stands over me and braces his hands on the edge of the hot tub by my shoulders. "That is the same question I ask myself about you every day." He slides his hands down my arms and wraps them around my waist. Pulling me up, he slides behind me onto the bench and pulls me onto his lap. His chest is warm against my back and his fingers skim over the top of my thighs.

I lay my head back on his shoulder and let it loll to the side as his hands drift to my inner thighs and spread my legs apart inch by inch. My breath catches as his fingers brush the spot between my legs that aches for him the most. "That's a crazy thing to ask because I'm so not perfect."

"I'm not arguing about this with you, Noelle. You can't tell me that how I see you is wrong. Especially when I have you in such a compromising position." His fingers press short circles against me, making my legs fall further apart.

I let out a whimper as he rubs me harder. "Elijah," I gasp, grinding my ass against his growing desire. "Please."

"Please what, princess?"

"I need more than your fingers."

In one swift motion, Elijah lifts me from his lap and spins me around. I end up on the edge of the pool deck, with his shoulders between my knees. He kisses the valley between my breasts, his lips moving down my sternum and kissing around my navel until his warm breath brushes the wet skin between my legs. His gaze meets mine as he moves in closer and kisses my heated skin.

My lips part as I watch his tongue dart out and taste that part of me that aches for him. He grips my thighs, diving between them as though he's starving, and I am the only sustenance that can fulfill him and keep him alive.

When he adds one finger to the movement of his tongue, I sling my head back, the wet ends of my hair tickling my spine. "God, Elijah," I groan, moving against his mouth.

Every stroke of his tongue sends shivers through my body, and each tremble brings me closer to the release my body craves whenever he is near me. I'm addicted to the euphoric high; I want it now and long for it to never subside. It is vital that I feel consumed by him every second of every day.

Elijah draws me between his lips and sucks, and my hips lift from the deck. I grip his hair and hold him to me, scared that if I let go, he will stop, and I'll lose the release that is building in the most delicious way.

But he doesn't stop. It's like he can feel how close I am, how much I need him, and he doubles his efforts, his tongue lashing at the bundle of nerves that brings me the most pleasure and his finger tapping at the place that I can never reach.

"Elijah, I—"

He hums against me and murmurs, "Come for me, Noelle. Show me how much you want me."

That's all it takes. The coils of pressure in my lower belly snap and unfurl, little pulses of pleasure reverberating through my entire body. I am unraveling under his touch, and I am nothing but putty in his hands.