Nothing.
Left. Right. Kick. The bag thumps and strains against the chain, holding it upright, but the tension in me doesn’t release. I don’t know why I’m so angry again. Perhaps it’s the feelings I can’t define. The ones I’m having for Ethan when I didn’t think I was capable of feeling anything.
“Done pummeling that bag like it’s me yet?” he asks as if I conjured him with my thoughts. I spin to find him leaning against the doorjamb to the workout room. He’s showered, his hair damp, and I wonder if he took matters into his own hand like he told me he’s been doing. The thought of him curling his fingers around his dick and tugging it until he feels sweet bliss makes me shiver. He’s wearing track pants and a T-shirt, and I hate how instantly my body reacts to the sight of him.
Ignoring him, I return to punching the bag. Another jab. Another kick. I’m sweating. My chest heaves. My body aches…and vibrates and craves his.
His voice is closer when he speaks. “You aren’t talking to me again?”
“I have nothing to say,” I state, and he chuckles. Damn him. “Nothing,” I emphasize. He steps to the side, coming into my periphery and glares at me, tilting his head. His arms cross over his chest.
“What’s going on?” he questions, and I snap, rounding on him with a boxing glove raised and pointed at him.
“Nothing,” I repeat.
“There’s that word again,” he snarks.
“Well, it’s your word. But I’m tired of being nothing,” I yell.
“Then don’t act as if you are,” he counters, lowering his arms so fists form at his sides.
“You said I was,” I retort.
“I said no such thing.”
“You told Pam nothing was going on between us.”
Both our nostrils flare, like two bulls in a corral, ready to charge one another. To my surprise, my feet kick out from under me. My upper arms are clasped, and I’m falling. We collectively fold to the mat. Somehow, my fall is broken, but I still breathe deeply, inhaling the fresh scent of him. Spicy and clean and all man.
“Did you want me to tell Pam what we were doing?” he hisses. “Tell her how I was kissing you, ready to go down on you? Want me to define things before we’ve defined them ourselves?” His body balances over mine. His hands suddenly clutching my wrists against the mat near my head. His chest raises and lowers. One of his legs is between my thighs, spreading me like our position in the barn.
“We don’t need to define things,” I mutter.
“Oh, but I think we do, princess, because the one label I will not put on this is nothing.” With that, his mouth crashes mine, hungry and angry and taking of me. And I give back as good as I’m getting, fighting his mouth and sparring with his tongue. I struggle under him although I’m no longer certain I’m pushing against him as much reeling him toward me, wanting him closer. With every touch, I grow more comfortable with his nearness, more eager for more of him.
He releases my wrists, and digs his fingers into my hair, pulling loose the bun at the top of my head.
“I’m all sweaty,” I mutter.
“I don’t care,” he growls. His mouth remains against mine as I push at him, pressing him to roll on the mat flooring. Ethan does, taking me with him, fingers still in my hair until my body is over his. My legs spread, straddling his waist. With one hand releasing my locks, he slides the other down my side to my hip and maneuvers my body, so I’m lined up with him. Through the thin material of his pants, I’m hitched on the tip of him, and the spandex of my shorts does nothing to disguise the thickness of him under me.
I grind against him, groaning as I slide along his length.
“Fuck, Ella,” he hisses against my lips. Pressing off his shoulders, I sit up, resting directly over his excitement and rock. “What do you want, Princess?” His voice falters as his eyes roll, and a strange sense of empowerment comes over me. I want to bring him to his knees.
I struggle a minute to remove the gloves on my hands, tugging at the ties of one with my teeth before Ethan reaches up and loosens it. He pulls it off my hand and tosses it over his head. I work at the other and throw it to the side once I remove it.
I scoot back and take the waistband of his pants with me. Pulling them down over his hip, his dick pops free, exposing him as lengthy, thick, and begging for more.
“Whatcha doing?” His voice cracks as his hands fall to the floor. I wrap my hand around his shaft and tug. Ethan groans.
“I want to do this,” I state, a demand in my tone. Don’t deny me.
“Don’t you dare bite me,” he mutters. I chuckle a bit wickedly.
“I’m not the one who said I didn’t bite,” I tease, and Ethan’s head falls back to the floor.
“Shit,” he hisses under his breath. My palm squeezes. He’s longer and thicker than anyone I’ve ever seen. There’s no way he’ll fit in my mouth completely, but I want a taste of him. Lowering, I lick the tip, curl around the crown, and eventually bring him between my lips. His fingers return to my hair, slipping to the back of my head. He’s gentle, as he simply holds me.
“Mmm,” he hums. “That feels so good.” The encouragement spurs me on, drawing him as deep as I can and then curling a fist around the rest. He slides against my tongue, in and out of my mouth, and the sounds he makes emboldens me. I want this. I want to feel as though I’m something to him. As if I matter. Like I’m in control.
I suck at the tip, swipe a tongue through the slit, and then lower again, drawing him deep.
“Ella,” he warns, but my enthusiasm only builds. I bob and slurp until I feel him jerk. Then I swallow.
“Fucking hell,” Ethan groans, fingers fisting in my hair. He cries out for me to stop, but I take my time to release him, giving him a final lap as I do. Proud of myself, I sit back on his knees.
Ethan’s chest lifts and lowers. A hand scrubs down his face before he tugs his hair back from his forehead. He blinks several times, trying to regain himself, and then he sits up too quickly. Startling me, he catches me around my lower back.
“You don’t fight fair,” he says, his voice teasing me.
“Never said I do.” I squeal as he flips me, and I’m flat on my back again. His hands are already at my hips, tugging down my shorts. I’m not wearing underwear, and his breath catches.
I don’t know if I’m ready for sex, but I want more of him.
“Tit for tat,” he tells me as if sensing my concerns.
You can trust him, my heart whispers.
“Taste for taste,” Ethan clarifies, and without any other forewarning, his lips kiss me where I’m now exposed. His tongue flattens and laps against sensitive skin and my head tips back. My spine curls. My body begs for more.
“Again,” I purr. Ethan complies with more licks, followed by a deep suck at my clit. His tongue comes forward. Holy shit. I’ve never experienced anything like this, not this good, not this deep, not this wet. He’s making a mess of me and I don’t care. It feels incredible, and I’m empowered once again because he’s doing this to me. He’s making me feel this good.
My fingers delve into his hair on each side of his head, curling into the wild waves. My hips rock upward, and he groans against me. The sound vibrates up my core and triggers flutters inside my lower belly. I’m going to shatter.