“I love your eyes so much,” he whispers, looking deeply into them while brushing his thumb over my bottom lip. “Your hair too.” He smiles, whirling a strand of it between his fingers.

I believe him. He’d never lie.

An image of me on my knees, gazing up at him with those eyes he loves so much, comes to mind. I slowly start to lower myself.

“Whoa, whoa,” he says, grabbing my arms to stop me from going further. He grins at me and smooths my cheek with his thumb, his strong fingers cradling the back of my head like a warm blanket.

My eyes almost close at the sensation. He feels so good. So comfortable.

“You don’t have to do it,” he says.

But what he doesn’t say is that he wants me to. I can see it in his eyes and that makes me want to do it even more.

“Didn’t you say that you love my eyes?” I whisper, moving one inch lower, pinning him with my gaze.

“Yeah, but—”

The rest doesn’t matter to me. I drop to my knees.

I grab his length with my hand while I use my tongue to encircle the tip. He’s big. Even though I can’t swallow him whole, my hand and mouth succeed in covering him almost entirely.

“Oh shit,” he flinches, running his fingers through my hair, then grasping it tightly.

I gaze up at him. He looks drunk. Can’t keep his eyelids open. Doing his best to stay upright.

“How do you like my eyes now?” I tease, taking him out of my mouth only to plunge him back in.

He lets out a masculine growl and my core tightens. One of my fingers slides down between my legs and I gently massage myself while I please him. Who knew that giving pleasure to someone else would be this enjoyable?

“Tell me, how much do you like them?” I ask again.

“You’ll learn in a bit how much.”

His voice is different. Harsh. The fucking victory I feel knowing I’m the one that makes him feel this way is incredible.

And I want to give him more. I keep working my tongue while I move my mouth up and down his shaft.

His phone rings from the bedroom. He ignores it.

I’m glad about that. Glad I can hold his attention. He tilts his face up to the ceiling, his eyes closed, regular moans escaping his mouth. His phone rings again. Elias ignores it again, keeping his hand on my head as I pick up the pace.