THE ARISTOCRATS #1

00:18

Clementine was terribly afraid she was in a dream and would wake up to nothing.

But then Elijah made a sound and parted his lips, and Clementine knew that this was real, and that it was his hands twisting in her hair and his lips against hers.

He kissed like an asshole. Like he was furious at her, punishing her with his lips. The kiss was selfish, bruising and delectable. She was shaking, soft sounds leaving her as he consumed her.

She lost herself in the feeling of his soft lips, the faint taste of citrus fruits and the intoxicating smell of lemon and ocean air. He tasted clean. It was because of the gallons of water he guzzled, the water which had washed away any taste, until it was just him. It was refreshing, and unlike anything she had ever tasted before.

Her legs spread instinctively, muscles loose and languid with warm pleasure. He grunted, noticeably pleased by her compliance as his grip tightening and he pressed her against him.

Elijah's hand ran down the length of her spine, and with one graceful, sweeping moment, had lifted her off the ground and into his arms, as if she weighed nothing. She made a soft sound of surprise, wrapping her bare legs around his waist. This close she could feel each and every muscle flush against her body, could make out the individual ridges and dips of his body. She wanted to map him out, trace him and draw him. She sighed at the feeling of warm honey dripping slowly in her stomach.

With a surge of sudden bravery, Clementine bit his bottom lip, extracting a groan from Elijah.

He took a few steps and a tree met her back. His hips pressed against hers almost punishingly, fingertips bruising her waist.

She was reminded of a conversation she had had with Steph and Taryn back when they used to be friends. Steph had been discussing her latest romp with a guy two grades above her. She had said, "a man kisses like he fucks."

Clementine shuddered with desire.

Clementine gasped, tugging at the roots of his dark hair. Elijah pulled away momentarily, his breath hot and harsh on her cheeks. His high cheekbones were tinted pink and his eyes were hooded with desire. She eyed his swollen lips nervously. Do you kiss like you fuck, Elijah?

"Come here," he grunted roughly.

Clementine swooped in and silenced him with another kiss, her nose bumping into his, but he didn't seem to mind. Teeth clinked, and she tightened her legs around his waist as he bit her lower lip meanly. She mewled softly and he leaves his tongue against the irritated skin as if apologising. He was filthy.

Her heart hammered in her chest, the sound echoing in her ears. She tugged at his hair again, and he made that sound again, the sound that made her blood turn into warm milk and her bones turn into soft, useless noodles.

Fascinated, Clementine did it again. Elijah's head fell back, in the direction of her hands, his eyelids closed. He was like a cat, preening against the hand of its owner.

She met his eyes as he opened them, a challenge clear as day in them.

"Are you trying to kill me, sweet girl?" He rasped, kissing her neck. The feeling knocked the air out of her lungs, but knocked some sense into her brain.

"Woah there, okay, wow," Clementine loosened her grip and Elijah leaned down slightly, placing her on her feet. He didn't move back, his hips still flush with hers, hands still gripping the soft fat around his hips. Her hands trembled slightly at the distinct hardness pressing against her stomach.

She dusted imaginary lint off her shirt, wishing her face would stop burning. Elijah ran a hand through his hair, examining her face carefully.

Clementine tucked a lock of hair behind her pink ears.