a bite of luxury
part 5
summary: you haven't heard from ellie in weeks so you decide to just show up at her door and beg for forgiveness
tags: sugarmommy!ellie, rich!ellie, vampire!ellie, fingering, oral(r!recieving), bloodplay, very slight praise kink, reader is referred to as a girl once, a little angst but also fluffy make-up sex
word count: ~7.3
a/n: sorry this took forever, i'm gonna disappear for a while so i can get back to working on my book. also i know i'm neglecting bottom ellie, you'll get her in the next part <3
lmk if you wanna be added to my tag list!
part 1
part 4
You felt like you were stuck in a timeloop with a shitty sense of humor.
Nearly every day was the same. You would wake up and check your phone; you would go to your shitty job and check your phone during your lunch break; you would go back to your apartment and put your phone in a different room so you wouldn’t touch it; you would eat leftover takeout or a freezer dinner meal while watching a YouTube video; you would check your phone again before falling asleep. And each time you checked your phone, a piece of you died just a little bit more.
You hadn’t heard from Ellie in weeks.
You had texted her and apologized. You had left her three voicemails asking when you could see her again. (In one voicemail, you had been drunk, and you cringed every time you remembered how desperate you sounded, slurring your words together as you practically begged her to forgive you.) Short of throwing yourself at her doorstep and groveling on your hands and knees, you weren't sure what else you could do.
(And, truthfully, you weren't above groveling.)
But the harsh reality was that Ellie owed you nothing. At the end of the day, other than your body, you meant nothing to her. You were just another pretty face she had swiped on, just another lonely soul she had chosen to spoil and fuck. That's all you were ever going to be to her. And now she'd go find another pretty face, one that didn’t ask so many stupid questions; one that accepted the gifts and the money without looking deeper into the girl behind them.
She could have tossed you aside at any time.
You just sped up the process.
Not all was lost: After your last day together, Ellie had deposited more money into your bank account (you tried to not sit with the hurt of it, like the final nail in the coffin you built for yourself). You still had enough money that you didn’t have to worry about rent for at least a few months – if you played your cards right, you could probably stretch it even further. You had that beautiful dress you could wear when you did decide to try dating again – it was far more flattering than your normal attire – even if seeing it hanging in your closet pulled at something in your chest. Eventually, you just shoved it into the back of the closet, behind your normal T-shirts and sweaters, telling yourself you were just saving it for the right moment.
Seeking was still on your phone, laying forgotten and dry like a neglected plant. You told yourself maybe the app wasn’t for you. You told yourself maybe you should try something a little less intimidating – Bumble or Her – or even go out and meet people the old-fashioned way. You told yourself maybe you would try Seeking again – maybe find that handsy woman who had taken you on a helicopter ride; she certainly hadn’t seemed like the kind of person who got attached.
You told yourself all of these things, but when it was late at night and the other side of your bed was far too warm, the truth crept into the back of your mind like a fever you couldn’t sweat out.
It was stupid. God, you knew it was so fucking stupid. You had only known Ellie for a few weeks, had only gone on three fucking dates. And yet you were going through your days on autopilot, staring forlornly out the window like Bella in New Moon – but she had at least known Edward for a few months. It felt like Ellie had drugged you, and now you were going through withdrawals without her around.
It didn't make any sense. You didn't believe her that there wasn’t something within her that drew you in, some kind of vampiric magic. You had read somewhere that vampires had a specific pheromone that drew in their victims. Sure, it was in a trashy romance novel, but it’s not like there were any guidelines on vampires; fiction was all you had to work with.
It was the only explanation for the way your chest had felt hollow for weeks, as though you were missing a rib; how Ellie was all you could think about; how you laid awake every night, far too warm in your bed without her pressed against you; how, when sleep finally found you, your dreams were filled with green eyes and freckles and teeth sharp enough to kill. And it certainly was the only explanation for how, late one night, after you had tossed and turned for hours unable to sleep, you grabbed your phone and called an Uber.
There was no other explanation.
Right?
You were lucky it was a Saturday night in the city, when rideshares ran all night. You had barely changed out of your pajamas by the time your phone pinged that your driver was here.
As you rode in silence, you almost missed the talkative driver that had taken you to your first date with Ellie. With no sound but this driver’s music playing softly in the background, you were forced to reevaluate.
What the actual fuck were you doing? You had made this decision without even realizing there was a decision to be made. It was 3AM and you should’ve been in bed. You should have just taken a Melatonin or an edible and forced your body into sleep. But no, instead your sleep deprived mind dragged you out of bed, out of your apartment into the cold night, and for what? What was your plan, exactly? To show up on Ellie’s doorstep in the middle of the night, throwing yourself at her feet? That was something a stalker would do (and you pointedly tried not to think about how Ellie had done that to you). You still weren’t sure if she slept, but even if she was awake, who’s to say she would let you in? She was going to tell you to fuck off, and then what? You call another Uber and try not to cry in a stranger’s backseat while Justin Bieber plays through the speakers?
You had almost worked up the courage to ask the driver to turn around when she stopped in front of Ellie’s house.
For several long, long seconds you couldn’t move. You just sat, frozen, staring out the tinted window at the house before you; your eyes traced the turret, the brick siding, the large windows like eyes peering out at the street. You could see a lamp on upstairs, in the window that you now knew was Ellie’s bedroom. Your heart slipped down into your stomach and you feared you’d throw it up with the Chinese takeout you’d had for dinner.
“Miss?”
You jumped when the driver spoke up, forgetting that there was another person in the car. Forgetting that that person was waiting for you to get out of the fucking car. It was a Saturday night and she had far better things to do than deal with you frozen like a rabbit in her backseat.
You met the driver’s eyes in the rearview mirror – there was a mixture of annoyance and concern – before you muttered your thanks and forced yourself to get out. And as she drove away, you stood frozen on the sidewalk, an immovable object in desperate need of that unstoppable force; you didn’t think you could walk forward without it. It felt like your feet were embedded in the cement beneath you.
But you had spent $20 to get over here. The least you could do was try. And if she did tell you to fuck off, you’d spend another $20 to get back home. And you’d find a way to make peace with the fact that you had made Ellie Williams hate you.
With clenched fists, you took a monumental step forward, feeling as though your marionette strings had turned to lead. You struggled to pull them up the stairs behind you, your knees shaking against their weight, each step groaning beneath you.
You had barely lifted your hand to knock – your arm shook, your bicep straining – when the door was wrenched open. You jumped, nearly tumbling back down the stairs (which would have given you a good excuse to leave, in retrospect).
Ellie stood in the open doorway, and you had expected some sort of grandiose entrance: A billowing black robe, gloomy candlelight haloed around her head, eyes glowing red with rage. Maybe lightning would streak across the sky the moment she was revealed, casting her features in eerie contrast, her fangs flashing when she sneered at you.
In truth, Ellie looked less like an angel of death and more like an angry cat staring down at a particularly bothersome mouse. Her hair was down, standing up at odd ends as though she had been pulling at it. She was not wearing a billowing robe reminiscent of Dracula, but instead a black band t-shirt and plaid pajama pants. There was no lightning strike or clap of thunder, no candelabra to cast her pale skin in liquid gold – but she was sneering at you, her eyes cast in shadows.
Ellie crossed her arms, leaning against the doorframe, and said, “What do you want?” Her voice was so thick with carefully placed neutrality that you couldn’t guess the real shade underneath. Though she smoothed her face into a porcelain mask, the taut line of her shoulders was like a drawn bow aimed right at you.
And maybe you should have planned for this part. Maybe you should have thought about what you might say – what kind of monologue you should have memorized, lamenting about how you had broken her trust, getting on your knees and begging for forgiveness. Instead, you had idiotically decided to come all the way to her house in the middle of the night to stand on her porch with those fierce green eyes burning a hole into you, and you hadn’t thought of a single thing to say.
And so, the first thing that came out of your mouth – like an infatuated teenager – was, “I miss you.”
You wanted to take the words back as soon as they were out, swallow them back into your chest and wrap them tight around your heart where they belonged. But they were there, syllables shining in the light between you, and they were all you had to work with.
You watched as the smallest crack splintered through Ellie’s mask, her eyebrows raising in surprise. She shifted her weight but did not take her eyes off you.
When the silence stretched thin, you took a deep breath and continued, words rushing together, “What I did was wrong – I know it was wrong a-and stupid. And….” You trailed off, twisting your fingers in the hem of your shirt. Your heart battered against your ribcage, and you knew there was no hiding the sound of your anxiety from her. You swallowed around the lump in your throat and finished, “And I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you for weeks. So can I – can I come in to talk?” Shoving past your pride, you added, “Please?”
The corner of Ellie’s mouth twitched, as though she, too, saw the irony in you asking for permission to enter her home this time. After several long seconds where you convinced yourself she was going to slam the door in your face – maybe push you back down the stairs for good measure – she finally said, the word like a bite, “Fine.”
She stepped back, holding the door open, and you scurried through it like a stray dog in a storm. It was cold in the foyer, the nighttime chill creeping through the doorway and burrowing into the marble floor. You shivered and wrapped your arms around yourself, following Ellie silently into the sitting room.
Ellie sat on the plush sofa, piled with blankets just as it had been the first time she brought you home, and just… stared at you. You didn’t dare sit. You stood frozen several feet away, some animalistic instinct telling you to leave a safe distance between the two of you. Your muscles refused to move any closer.
After a whole minute of you standing before her like a deer in headlights, Ellie leaned forward, bracing her elbows on her parted legs (which really was not helping), and said, “Well?” It wasn't a bark or a command; there was no malice in it this time, only quiet impatience. It was a shove into center stage.
You really wished you had prepared a script.
Instead, you stumbled your way through improv: “I shouldn’t – I shouldn’t have gone through your personal belongings.” You wrung your hands together, the spotlight making sweat bead under your collar. Your audience of one felt like a thousand eyes on you. “I can…make all the excuses I want, but at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter why I did it. It was a complete invasion of your privacy, and I had no right to cross that boundary. I guess what I’m trying to say is….” You swallowed around the unexplainable lump in your throat. “I’m sorry, Ellie.”
There was a long pause, an intermission. There were no wings to hide in, no curtains to close, so you could do nothing but stand before your audience and await her judgement. You were just thankful there were no tomatoes in her vicinity.
Ellie wasn’t looking at you; her eyes were cast somewhere over your left shoulder, enraptured by an invisible extra in the background. Her hands were clasped between her knees, her jaw clenched around unspoken words. It felt like a lifetime before she finally said, quiet as a secret, “Why did you do it?”
It wasn’t the question you had been expecting, and it took you a moment to process. You shook your head and said, “Does it matter?”
“It matters,” Ellie murmured, finally meeting your eyes. “It matters to me.”
There was a rawness to her tone, a vulnerability that told you to look away, as though you were witnessing something private; you held her gaze. “Like I said that night, I was… curious. Too curious for my own good.”
“About what?” Ellie’s voice was the exposed column of a throat.
“You,” you said without hesitation. Warmth spread to your cheeks, but you pushed onward. “I wanted to know more about you. You’ve lived… so much life, Ellie. And I know it must have been hard, and I didn’t want to ask any questions that might upset you, but….” You shrugged helplessly. “I guess I wanted to peek behind the curtains.”
Ellie dropped her head into her hands, and you weren’t sure if she was crying – if she could cry. You took a step closer, unsure if your touch would hurt or heal.
“I don’t understand you,” she said, voice muffled. She lifted her head, pressing her hands to her mouth, and continued, “I’ve been doing this for a long time.” You didn’t have to guess what this meant: Finding girls to spoil for a while, leaving a trail of broken hearts in her wake. “I told you before – I’m good at money and sex. That’s all I’ve been for a hundred years, all I’ve known. Nobody has ever… cared to look any closer.” Her frown deepened and she looked away. “Well, that’s not really true.”
Ellie didn’t elaborate, and you didn’t ask. You didn’t want to be sent away again.
“Look,” you said carefully, taking another step towards her, “I am so fucking sorry. I never should have invaded your privacy. And I swear I’ll never do it again. I don’t–”
I don’t want to lose you.
Fuck, you couldn’t say that; you swallowed the words down like acid. You could feel those marionette strings tugging you down, but if Ellie wanted no strings attached, you’d figure out how to do it.
Luckily, Ellie saved you from trying to finish that sentence. She straightened up, and her voice was soft when she said, “Come here.”
You resisted the urge to throw yourself into her arms. You stepped forward, close enough for Ellie to take your wrist and pull you gently towards her. Slotting yourself between her parted legs, you tentatively placed a hand on her shoulder, the other finding its way into her hair. Each touch was hesitant, slow, as you waited for her to push you away.
Ellie looked up at you, her long lashes casting shadows over her cheeks in the soft light. You couldn’t read her expression, but her words remained soft when she said, “If you want to know something, ask – don’t go through my shit again.” She hadn’t even finished her sentence before you started nodding. “But I’ve told you before, all I am is money and sex. That’s all I can offer you. And if that isn’t enough for you, I need you to tell me.”
There was an inexplicable twist in your stomach, a wrenching in your chest that you refused to put a name to. It didn’t matter, not when Ellie’s eyes were sparkling with forgiveness and her hands were trailing up your thighs, her thumbs rubbing soothing circles into the dips of your hips. It didn’t matter because you couldn’t afford your rent and groceries, and your credit card payments were spiking to an all-time high.
If all you would get was money and sex, you could live with it.
So you swallowed that inexplicable thing that had crept into your throat and you nodded, holding Ellie’s gaze. You almost didn’t even believe yourself when you said, “That’s more than enough.”
Even though your chest ached with something you would not acknowledge, Ellie’s smile alone made it worth it. There was something so vulnerable about it, so fragile you feared it might shatter under your touch.
Giving your hips a gentle tug, she murmured again, “Come here.”
The warmth in her voice burrowed itself into your veins. You let her pull you closer, let her guide your thighs to either side of her hips on the sofa, let her pull you down to perch on her lap. With your hands on her shoulders for balance, you had a perfect picture frame of her eyes shining in the low light, the crooked curve of her lips.
Looking up at you through her lashes, Ellie murmured, “I did miss you, though,” before her hand wrapped around the back of your neck and she pulled you in.
You hadn’t realized just how much you had missed kissing Ellie. It felt like you were taking your first breath of air after drowning, and you knew it was dangerous to think this way but you couldn’t stop. You couldn’t stop the way your heart skipped when Ellie’s lips moved gently over yours, couldn’t stop the goosebumps that traced down your spine when she buried her fingers in your hair. There was no stopping or denying it, you could only hold it close and keep it away from the light.
Ellie hummed, tilting her head and pressing in harder. Your breath stuttered when she pressed her tongue to the seam of your lips, and you didn’t hesitate to open yourself up for her. She traced her tongue over the roof of your mouth and it tasted like metal; there was a brief stab of jealousy in your chest as you wondered who she had drank from in your weeks apart.
Money and sex. She’s not yours to keep.
The thought dissipated when Ellie gripped your hips with both hands, using the leverage to pull you closer, forcing you to grind down on her lap. You gasped against her lips, your thighs clenching around the sudden friction. You felt Ellie smile as she pulled you down again, swallowing the breathy moan that slipped from your lips, warmth pooling between your legs at each gentle brush against your pussy.
Ellie’s cold fingers slipped beneath the hem of your shirt, bunching it up around your waist, and you pulled back just enough for her to tug it up and over your head, discarding it on the floor. You hadn’t had the foresight to wear a bra, and Ellie leaned back, eyes raking over the expanse of your bare skin. You resisted the urge to cover yourself, wrap your arms protectively around your body, and instead watched the slow smile that spread over Ellie’s face, the shine in her eyes.
Ellie ran her hands up your sides and a shiver wracked your shoulders – from her cold hands and the cold room.
Her smile was quickly replaced by a frown, her brows pinched as she pulled away. You almost reached for her hands, immediately missing the feeling of her skin on yours, but Ellie pinched your hip and said, “Get off.”
You tried to ignore the twist of disappointment in your stomach as you climbed off her lap. You automatically reached for your shirt, sure she was going to kick you out again, but Ellie caught your wrist, chuckling when she said, “Just wait here.”
Ellie disappeared into the foyer, and a moment later you heard the radiator kick on, a warm wave washing through the sitting room. When she reappeared, Ellie had a matchbook in hand; you watched, arms wrapped around your middle for warmth, as she knelt before the fireplace you assumed had been neglected for years.
Once she got a fire going, Ellie stood up and turned to you, a sheepish smile on her face. “Sorry,” she said with a small shrug. “I always forget humans get cold.”
Something about the absurdity of the moment – that it was 3AM, you were standing with your tits out inside the home of a vampire who made you feel things too dangerous to name while she lit a fire to keep you warm, the golden light bouncing off her pale skin and sharp teeth – made you laugh. Ellie jumped, but once you started, it was hard to shove the laughter back down your throat, so you could do nothing for several minutes except stand there with a hand over your mouth trying to stifle the giggles.
“Sorry,” you finally said once there was enough room in your mouth for words. “It's just,” another giggle, “you're a vampire and I haven’t really been sleeping and –”
You couldn't form the words I missed you too, even if Ellie had said them first. They felt too large, like they would choke you on the way out.
But Ellie smiled as though she sensed what you wanted to say, as if she could read your mind (which you were 89% sure she couldn't). She said, “Do you need to go to sleep?”
“Probably,” you admitted in a drunken daze. You looked at Ellie, with her swollen pink lips and shining eyes, anxiously tugging at her fingers, and added, “But I really don't want to.”
Ellie bit her lip, exhaling a sound that could have been laughter or a sigh of relief. She looked away as if to compose herself; when she looked back up at you, something in her eyes had darkened, shadowing that vulnerability you had gotten a glimpse of. Holding your gaze, she said, “Why're you so far away?”
Just like the first time, you followed her without hesitation. You took her outstretched hand and she pulled you close, pressing a brief kiss to your lips. The contrast of her cold skin on yours and the heat of the fire on your back made goosebumps rise along your arms. Ellie chuckled against your lips, running gentle fingers over your skin.
“I forgot how sensitive you are,” she murmured, pressing kisses along your jaw, smiling when your pulse jumped against her lips. Her arms were strong around your waist, pulling you closer so she could bury her face in the crook of your neck.
You rolled your eyes even as your arms circled her neck, tilting your head back to give her better access. “And I forgot how fucking cold you are,” you muttered in protest.
Ellie’s laugh was branded in your skin, and she nipped at the place where your shoulder met your neck. You felt her fangs graze your skin, not enough to pierce but enough to sting; you bit your lip around a whimper. “Fair enough.”
Pulling away, Ellie took your arm and guided you down to the ground. Before the fire was a plush rug that felt more like a pillow when you sat on it – nothing like the one in your bedroom that was as thin as a sheet. Ellie pulled you in, so you were sitting between her legs, your back pressed to her chest; the fire blazed in front of you, dancing in your eyes and warming your bare skin.
Ellie wrapped an arm around your waist, goosebumps following wherever she touched. Her other hand trailed across your chest, fingers feather-light, and your next shiver had nothing to do with the cold.
A shudder wracked your shoulders when her fingers brushed over your nipple, the barest graze against the sensitive skin. Her arm around your waist tightened, holding you firmly against her chest as she flicked her finger over your nipple again. You gasped, body arching up into her touch, and you could feel her smile against your temple.
“What did you do while you were gone?” she murmured, kissing her way down your jaw. She pinched your nipple between her fingers and chuckled when you whimpered. “Did you touch yourself?”
Your cheeks burned at her question, embarrassment wrapping its arms around you, but you forced yourself to nod.
You were rewarded by Ellie nipping at the sensitive spot beneath your ear, sucking the skin into her mouth. Your moan was breathy even to your own ears as you dropped your head back against her shoulder, granting her better access; it felt like you were baring your pulse to a beast.
“Did you think of me?”
The words were whispered against your skin but you felt them burn all the same. And of course you had; shame roiled in your stomach when you thought about how many nights you had spent with your own fingers dipping into your pussy and the taste of Ellie’s name on your tongue. You had spent nights where the only sound in your apartment was the panting of your own moans and the buzz of a vibrator, trying to chase a high you couldn’t quite reach without the sting of sharp teeth.
You hadn’t spoken, but your silence must have been answer enough because Ellie hummed in your ear, her satisfaction tangible in the warming air. She gave your nipple a final pinch before her fingers traveled south, brushing down your stomach and trailing over the waistband of your pants, which have never felt more constricting.
Ellie paused, her fingers just dipping beneath the waistband; her breath was hot against your ear when she murmured, “Did anybody else fuck you?”
You couldn’t speak for a moment, dizzy with the feeling of the hot fire and her cold fingers and her burning words in your ear. You swallowed several times, and you didn’t feel any shame when you finally said, the words coming out on a whimper, “No. Nobody.”
You felt Ellie relax beneath you. She chuckled, the sound vibrating in your chest, and murmured, rough and hot, “Good girl,” before she pressed her hand past your waistband. She moaned against your neck, dipping her fingers into your arousal, making your hips buck up into her touch. “God, you really missed me, huh?”
You moaned, low in your throat, when her slick fingers found your clit. She didn’t wait, rubbing tight circles around the sensitive area, latching her lips around your pulse; distantly, you felt her tense up, as though she were holding herself back. You felt the lightest brush of her teeth and nothing more.
“You don’t have to tell me what you were thinking about, baby,” Ellie murmured as warmth pooled low in your stomach, catching like a fire. “But be honest,” she dropped her voice to a whisper, lips moving against your ear, “does it feel as good as when I fuck you?”
Whimpering, you grabbed her knee to ground yourself as the heat in your stomach reached a breaking point. Fuck, you weren’t going to last long; you really fucking missed her. “No,” you whimpered, shaking your head against her shoulder. You swallowed hard. “No, Ellie – fuck, you feel so good.”
Ellie’s fingers sped up, your hips bucking into her hand. She pressed another kiss to your temple. “Are you gonna come for me already, darling?” When you only moaned louder, she laughed and said, “Let me hear you, baby.”
Her free hand came up, circling around your throat, the barest pressure against your pulse. She used the leverage to tilt your head so she could suck another bruise into your skin, but you hardly felt it. You could only feel the way her fingers worked you towards the edge, her cold skin warmed from your heat. With her fingers on your jaw, Ellie turned your face towards her, and you moaned into her mouth when you came.
Ellie held you through it, licking into your mouth as if to taste your whimpers. You felt the warmth spread in your underwear but you couldn’t care, because Ellie’s fingers were pressing gentle circles around your clit, working you through your orgasm.
When your whimpers grew breathy and your hips stuttered against her hand, Ellie slowly withdrew her hand from your pants. While her clean hand brushed your hair from your face, she pressed her slick fingers gently to your lips. Without thinking, you opened your mouth, sighing as she pressed the digits past your teeth. Ellie moaned when you swirled your tongue over her fingers, dizzy with the taste of yourself against her skin.
”Turn around,” Ellie said, pulling her fingers from your mouth; you made an involuntary noise of disappointment at the loss, and Ellie laughed. “Let me see you.”
You turned around slowly, grimacing at the feeling of your damp underwear, but it didn’t much matter. When you faced her, Ellie pressed a hand to your chest, pushing you back gently until your back hit the plush rug. She leaned over you, eyes raking over your exposed chest, before she met your eyes and sighed, “You’re so fucking pretty. I need to see you.”
Hooking her fingers in your waistband, Ellie pulled your pants and panties down in one swoop; you lifted your hips to help her, kicking the fabric away so you lay before her wearing nothing but firelight.
Ellie ran her hands up your sides, marveling at the expanse of your body laid out before her; you didn't even have the urge to cover yourself this time. You let her study every inch of your skin, her hands grasping at your breasts, your hips, your thighs, and you watched the light in her eyes, the way her mouth parted.
When Ellie finally met your eyes, you were sure she'd be blushing if she could. She smiled sheepishly even as she continued to knead at your thighs, nails dragging over your skin. “You look so fucking good.”
She leaned down and pressed a hard kiss to your lips, licking into your mouth, moaning at the taste of you. You reached up, tangling your fingers in her hair and pulling her closer.
Without pulling away, Ellie shoved her knee between your thighs, parting your legs so she could slip her hand between them. Her fingers found your clit again, still swollen from your first orgasm, and she laughed into your mouth when you whimpered from the sensitivity.
Her hand slipped lower, fingers circling your entrance, pressing lightly inside. You pulled away, panting, just enough to glare up at her.
“So impatient,” she said with a crooked smile before she pushed two fingers inside of you.
You gasped like you were drowning, your back arching up into her. She leaned over you, so close all you could see was green, and said, “You're so ready for me, I just slide right in.” Without warning, she added another finger, pressing them deep inside you.
“Shit, Ellie,” you winced, blindly reaching out to dig your fingers in her bicep. God, it had been too long since you had been fucked; the stretch stung, a steady ache that had your eyes watering even as the warmth between your legs spread. You bit your lip, suppressing a whimper.
Ellie shushed you, kissing you lightly, and whispered against your lips, “Relax, you can take it, baby.”
You whimpered again when she moved her hand, gently pulling her fingers out and pressing them back in. She moved slowly, watching your face carefully as you winced and whined, her thumb rubbing soft circles over your clit to work you through the pain. The sting softened, the pinch in your brow smoothing, and when your body finally turned pliable under her hands Ellie murmured, “There you go.”
Experimentally, Ellie pressed her fingers in harder, curling them to hit that soft spot inside of you. She was rewarded when you moaned, low in your throat, and you held her gaze with half-lidded eyes as her smile widened. You watched her carefully, studying every inch of her face – so open and vulnerable in this one firelit moment – as she picked up her pace, fucking into you harder, until your eyes rolled back and you could no longer see her.
Ellie pressed another lingering kiss to your lips before she pulled away. Her fingers didn’t stop, didn't even stutter or slow, as she crawled down your body, peppering hot kisses across your chest and your stomach. She settled between your legs, biting down on your thigh and sucking a bruise into the soft skin, before pressing her lips to your clit.
She started with light kisses and small kitten licks, the barest brush of touch that made you whimper, pressing your hips down in search of friction. But Ellie was just as impatient as you were, so it was only a minute before she pressed the flat of her tongue to your pussy, fingers still pressing relentlessly inside of you.
You cursed again, a shout in the quiet room, your hand reaching down to tangle in Ellie's hair. She licked a slow, firm line over your clit, and you’d swear you heard her moan at the taste of you. She lapped at your cunt, her fingers following the rhythm of her tongue, and fuck you were already going to come again.
Your mouth dropped open, and you mentally apologized before using your grip on Ellie’s hair to press her face down further, your hips bucking against her tongue. She didn’t seem to mind, moaning louder, the vibration of it right against your clit making your head spin.
You held her there, pressing your hips to her lips, practically riding her face until you stuttered, overstimulation making you tense up against her. Ellie gave your clit a few more gentle licks, giggling when you whined, her free hand rubbing soothing circles over your thigh.
Ellie pulled away just enough to press open-mouth kisses to the inside of your thigh, her tongue warm against your skin. She didn’t remove her fingers, leaving them frozen inside of you, and you felt your pussy flutter around them; you were sure you felt her smile.
“Can I?”
It took you a moment to register the words, spoken softly into the hazy air. You blinked several times to clear your eyes, your chest still heaving, before you looked down to meet her eyes. She was looking up at you, her lashes fluttering, her plump lips – still wet, still shining – poised over your thigh. You couldn’t put the words together, couldn’t make them make sense, until she bit down lightly and her fangs brushed your skin.
“Please,” she added, breathy and distant. “I miss how you taste.”
You swallowed hard, your tongue suddenly too big for your mouth. With her looking up at you with those big green eyes, her mouth parted, the sharp point of her teeth glinting in the light, you found you could do nothing but silently nod.
With a sigh of relief, Ellie sank her teeth into the inside of your thigh.
You winced, but the sting of it was quickly washed away by that euphoric pleasure you hadn’t been aware you were missing. The heat of it spread from her mouth, radiating up your thigh into your stomach and chest. You felt it hot and heavy between your legs, where her fingers had come back to life; she didn’t fuck into you, but instead curled her fingers up to massage that soft spot, rubbing rough circles over it and making stars spark in your vision.
Through the rush of your heart in your ears, you could hear Ellie moaning, her free hand clutching your thigh, nails digging in as if to hold you in place. You could feel her pressing her own hips into the floor, searching for her own friction, before all of your senses were overwhelmed by the pleasure coursing through your veins like a drug, white-hot and blinding.
It took a while for you to return to your body, your chest heaving, blinking hard to clear your vision. Ellie had pulled her fingers away – when that had happened, you weren’t sure – and was propping herself up on her elbows between your legs, watching you carefully. Blood was smeared over her lips, looking oddly like lipstick; you almost laughed, feeling suddenly very drunk.
Ellie ran a gentle hand up your thigh, carefully avoiding the wound she left. When you blinked down at her, she smiled and said, laughing, “Welcome back.”
You laughed, rubbing a hand over your eyes; your fingers were shaking slightly. You shamelessly admitted, words slurring, “I forgot how fucking amazing that feels.”
“Which part?” Ellie said with a sly, cocky smile, lifting herself up to hover over you. You wanted to kiss her so badly, like an ache in your chest, but when you lifted your head to catch her lips she pulled away. A sudden, sharp anxiety rose in your throat, but she only said, “At least let me clean up first.”
Ellie got to her feet, moving carefully around you. She looked down at you for a moment, lips pursed, before she seemed to come to a decision; kneeling down, she hooked her arms under your shoulders and knees and lifted you from the ground.
“Ellie!” you exclaimed, wrapping your arms tight around her neck; as admittedly small as she looked, her arms didn’t waver under you, but you held on just in case.
Holding you close, Ellie said, “Just let me take care of you.”
Now that you weren’t lying flat on the ground, you realized how lightheaded you were, the walls swimming around you as Ellie carried you down the hall and into the kitchen. She set you on your feet for only a moment, but you still had to lean heavily on the counter to stay upright, watching as Ellie placed a towel on the marble countertop. She helped you up onto the counter, the towel protecting your ass from the cold surface.
Ellie leaned next to you, meeting your eyes, her expression carefully guarded. She said slowly, carefully, “I’m going to get you some food, and I’ll clean both of us up.” She took a steadying breath. “I was honest when I said you can ask me questions. So, if you have anything, lay it on me.”
She left you a moment to mull it over, stepping into the pantry. When she returned, she was holding a box of cookies and a few rags. She set the cookies next to your hip with a quiet, “Eat these. I’ll make you some real food in a sec.”
You chewed on a cookie while she went to the sink, wetting the rags under warm water, and tried to sort through the questions swirling like clouds in your mind. Through a window, you could see the sky just beginning to lighten, orange light kissing the trees outside.
It was late – early? – and you were drunk on sleep deprivation and loss of blood and three orgasms. You wanted to save anything too deep for when you could properly focus, so you started with, “Where’s your sister?” Ellie had always spoken of her in the present tense, so it felt safe enough.
When she came back, there was a furrow between Ellie’s brows, but she didn’t argue. She had already taken a rag to her own face, her lips washed clean of your life. Wiping at the blood on your thigh, she answered, “I was being honest on our first date. Sarah’s in Dallas. She moved there a few decades ago – we lived together in this house for a while after….” She trailed off, pressing her lips together. “Our dad was originally from Texas, and she wanted to see where he grew up. She took a liking to it, I guess.”
“Does she ever visit?” you asked, watching her face carefully, trying to determine how far you could push it.
“Every now and then. We don’t really celebrate Christmas in the traditional sense anymore, but she’ll come up for it anyway. Says she misses the snow,” she added with a soft smile. She had cleaned the blood from your body and tossed the soiled rags down a fucking laundry chute of all things.
The way she had spoken of her dad in the past tense still rang in your mind, so you steered around it as though it were a landmine. Instead, remembering the photograph you had seen on her mantle, you took a sharp change in subject and asked, “Were you there for the Stonewall riots?”
Ellie laughed softly, coming back and placing her hands on your thighs, stepping between them. Her smile was fond, far away, when she said, “Yes, I was. I was arrested, but Sarah bailed me out.” Her smile spread when she added, “Marsha and I were good friends. I still miss her sometimes.”
You smiled too, watching her talk about her life – how much she had witnessed. You couldn’t resist the urge to lean down and kiss her, letting that inexplicable thing in your chest run wild for just a few moments. She still tasted like metal, and you felt a satisfied thrill in your chest, knowing that now she tasted of you and nobody else.
Pulling away, you studied her for a moment: The sharp curve of her jaw, the gentle swoop of her hair as you ran your fingers through it, the way her eyes fluttered at your touch. You thought of all the women who had seen her like this, all the ones that had had the privilege to make Ellie melt under their hands; you only knew one name, so you asked, “What was Dina like?”
There was no jealousy in it, no malice, only genuine curiosity. The woman you had briefly met had seemed so lively, and you longed to hear how she had been as a young woman with Ellie.
But Ellie – her face hardened, that mask you had finally shattered sliding back into place. Her hands on your thighs tightened, fingers pressing into the muscle, and her eyes were suddenly decades away. It took her a long time to answer you, and when she did, she held your gaze with ice in her eyes.
“You can ask me what you want,” she said, voice suddenly deathly quiet. “But don’t ask me about Dina.”
@macaroni676 @ellstronaut @elliewilliamsmiller0 @elliescoolerwife @letsreadsomesins-shallwe @peekayurple @liliflowers-blog @filtered-sunlight @hobbybound @kirammanss @elliespookie @starsfortaylor @ripelyswife @autisticintr0vert @g3latin @sunflarie @williamellieslilho @kl1q @livvieloveswomen @sevyscoven @samcvrpenters @yomxmxssn3ajyl1nk @rxreaqia @antobooh @sleepingwasp @fqrons @haithone @sevslover @ssijht @yomxmxssn3ajyl1nk @trueellivingx @antobooh @lez-zuha @corpsebride25 @littlelittlebear @iluvlych33 @soupinspector @chesolrat @seasonsofchaos @1c0h34r4ntscr34m1ng @ch6douin @mybodyismadeofcrushedstars @manfreakforyou @softheartedfemme @sani-sunny @r0tt3nkitti @strangerintthealps
