Chapter 503 What Martha Said

Delia’s POV

I was wet before Noah finished his sentence.

He was on the couch with his laptop, socked feet up, asking if I wanted tea. Ordinary. Kind. The man I had married. And while he talked about a file he had to send in the morning, I was thinking about his father’s cock.

Elliot’s hand in my hair. Elliot’s mouth between my legs. The way he pushed in and did not ask if I could take it. I shifted on the cushion and felt how soaked I already was. Noah did not notice. He never did.

“Tea?” Noah asked again.

“No.”

“You are quiet.” He said.

“I am tired.”

I was not tired. I was sitting next to my husband and picturing another man. Elliot at dinner, his hand close to mine, the look he gave my mouth when Martha was not watching. I had smiled at Noah. I had passed him a cake. Under the table my thighs stayed pressed together the whole night. Every time Elliot spoke, I felt it. Every time Noah laughed, I felt worse because he was decent and I was already gone.

Noah closed the laptop. “Come to bed.”

“In a minute. I need air.”

“This late?” He asked.

“I will not be long.”

He kissed my cheek. Soft. I wanted teeth. I wanted a hand that did not ask. I took my keys and left before I kissed him and wished he was someone else.

In the car I did not turn on the radio. I drove with one hand on the wheel and replayed the last time. On my knees. His cock on my tongue. The sound he made when I took him deeper. I was so wet I felt it when I moved my legs. At a red light I pressed my thighs together and still did not turn around. I should have. I did not.

Elliot opened the door and looked at my mouth first.

“You are here,” he said.

“I could not stay on that couch.”

“Noah home?”

“Yes,” I said.

“And you drove here anyway.”

“Yes,” I said, shamelessly.

He pulled me inside. I did not mention Martha. I went for his belt. He laughed once, low, and let me.

“On your knees, then.”

I dropped. I took him out. Thick. Hard. Wet at the tip. I licked the head, then the underside, then sucked him into my mouth, slow, eyes on his. He held my hair.

“Thinking about this while he offered you tea?” Elliot asked.

I pulled off enough to answer. “Yes.”

“Good girl. Do it properly.”

I took him deeper. Hand on the base. Tongue under the head. Spit on my chin. He thrust once, shallowly, and I stayed. My cunt ached. I sucked him until my jaw hurt and his hips twitched. He did not come. He pulled me up by the hair.

“Not in your mouth tonight. On the bed. I want to taste how wet the drive made you.”

He stripped me. Dress. Bra. Nothing else. He put me on the mattress and spread my legs. He looked. He did not rush.

“Look at you,” he said. “Wet from the drive. Wet from sitting next to your husband. Pathetic. Perfect.”

His mouth went to my cunt. Tongue on my clit. Then lower, licking me open. Two fingers inside while he sucked. I grabbed the sheet. I came fast because I had been ready since the couch. He did not stop. He licked me through it, fingers still moving, and made me come again, sharper, legs shaking.

“Again,” he said.

“Elliot, I just—”

“Again. You drove here for this.”

He held my thighs open and worked his tongue until I broke a third time. Smaller. Meaner. I was shaking and still empty.

Then he pushed his cock in to the base.

I cried out. Full. Too full. Right.

“That is what you drove for,” he said.

“Yes. Move. Please.”

He fucked me hard. Out to the head. In to the base. The bed hit the wall. I locked my legs around him and met him. He kept the strokes long so I felt all of him, then shorter when I started to shake, then long again.

“You sit at that table and smile,” he said. “You come here and spread. Both are true. Take it.”

“Elliot. Harder.”

He gave it to me. I came around him with my nails on his back. He did not finish. He pulled out, turned me over, and hauled my hips up.

“Stay there.”

He pushed in from behind. Deeper. One hand in my hair. The other on my hip, pulling me back onto every thrust. I came again, face in the sheet, legs useless. He kept going. Out. In. Out. In. Then he buried himself and spilled, a groan against my back, heat inside me.

We stayed like that. His weight. His cock still in me. My heart loud.

That was when Martha came out of my mouth. Not a report. Anger from the kitchen.

“My mother pulled me aside at dinner,” I said into the pillow. “She thinks she saw something. She told me to stop before I lose Noah. I told her she was imagining it.”

“And?”

“Dad likes you. Katia barely spoke to her. She spent the night on Dad. Martha can fuss. She does not run me, and she does not decide where I sit.”

I did not mention the look I thought I saw between Katia and Julian. I was not sure. Even if I was, I was not giving it to him.

“Then do not put on a show for her,” Elliot said. “Eat at your father’s table. Come here when you are wet. She can suspect. She cannot prove it if you keep your hands to yourself in public.”