Chapter 119
Eleanor POV
I stared up at the darkened ceiling of the movie theater, my fingers gripping the armrests of the plush seat in the last row. Derek had slipped from his seat beside me and was now kneeling on the floor between my parted legs. The dim glow from the screen illuminated his face as he looked up at me with dark eyes that gleamed with possessive hunger.
His hands moved deliberately up my calves, fingertips tracing patterns against my stockings before reaching the hem of my wool skirt. With a careful glance around the theater, he pushed my skirt higher, bunching the fabric around my waist. Underneath, I was wearing simple black lace panties—nothing special, certainly not chosen with this scenario in mind. With practiced ease, he hooked his fingers into the band, pulling them down slowly. I lifted my hips slightly, allowing him to slide them past my thighs, though some stubborn part of me wanted to resist, to maintain some illusion of control in this public space.
Only then did he lean in, his face disappearing under the hem of my skirt. I felt his warm breath against my inner thighs, sending shivers up my spine. His hands gripped my hips, holding me in place as if he knew I might try to escape—not from him, but from the vulnerability of my own pleasure in such a forbidden setting.
"Derek, stop," I whispered urgently, my voice low to avoid drawing attention, my hands pressing lightly against his shoulders as if to push him away.
He paused briefly, his intense gaze meeting mine from beneath the skirt's shadow, a spark of challenge in them. But he didn't heed my words. Instead, he continued the slow descent, tugging the panties past my thighs, the material whispering against my legs until it reached my knees. He lifted one foot gently from the floor, slipping the lace over my boot, then the other, freeing me completely. With a possessive glint, he tucked the panties into his pocket, his gaze never leaving the now-exposed folds of my pussy.
"You say stop, but look at you—so wet for me already," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through me.
I felt exposed, vulnerable in this semi-public space, the risk making my heart pound.
"We can't... stop this," I hissed again, trying to close my thighs, but his strong hands gripped them, parting me wider, holding me open for his inspection. My body betrayed me, though—a fresh wave of arousal coating my inner lips, my clit beginning to throb visibly under his stare.
Damn it, why did he have this effect on me? My mind screamed resistance, but my pussy ached for his touch.
Ignoring my plea, Derek leaned in closer, his stubble grazing the sensitive skin of my inner thighs as he settled between them. His tongue flicked out tentatively at first, tracing the outer edges of my labia with feather-light strokes that made me bite my lip to stifle a gasp. He parted my folds gently with his thumbs, exposing the pink, glistening entrance, and licked along the seam, slow and deliberate. My hips twitched involuntarily, a soft whimper escaping despite myself.
"Stop... Derek, please," I whispered one more time, my voice cracking, one hand flying to cover my mouth while the other hovered near his head, unsure whether to push or pull.
But even as the words left my lips, my body arched toward him, my clit swelling under the anticipation. He hummed in response, the vibration sending electric jolts through my core, and dove deeper. His mouth closed over my pussy fully, tongue circling my entrance before plunging inside, fucking me with shallow, teasing thrusts that mimicked his cock.
The taste of me seemed to spur him on; he lapped hungrily, sucking on my inner lips, pulling one side into his mouth and nibbling gently before releasing it with a wet pop. Then the other, the suction building pressure that made my toes curl inside my boots. My breaths came in short, ragged pants, the movie's booming score masking the faint, obscene sounds of his mouth on me. I glanced forward nervously—Olivia was whispering something to Thomas, their heads close, completely unaware.
Emboldened, Derek's attention shifted upward. His lips sealed around my clit, sucking rhythmically while his tongue flicked the sensitive nub in quick, insistent patterns: left to right, circles, then a firm press. The sensation was intense, building that coil in my lower belly tighter and tighter. He added his fingers, sliding one into my soaking pussy with ease, curling it to stroke that rough spot inside that always made me see stars. A second finger joined, stretching me further, pumping in and out in time with his tongue's assault.
"Oh God... stop," I murmured weakly, but it was a lie even to my own ears—my hand now tangled fully in his hair, pulling him closer rather than away.
My hips rocked against his face, seeking more friction, more depth. The realization washed over me like a tide: facing Derek, I had no real resistance. My body was honest, clenching around his fingers, dripping with need, while my mind's protests faded into the background. He knew me too well, every curve and response mapped in his memory.
His free hand reached up under my sweater, slipping beneath my bra to cup my breast, his thumb circling my hardened nipple before pinching it firmly. The dual stimulation—mouth on my clit, fingers thrusting deep, hand teasing my breast—was too much.
The pressure snapped, my orgasm crashing over me in powerful waves. My pussy spasmed around his fingers, juices flooding his mouth as I came hard. I bit down on my sleeve to muffle the cry, my body shuddering violently in the seat, thighs quaking against his cheeks. Derek didn't stop; he lapped greedily, drinking in every drop of my release, prolonging the aftershocks until I was a boneless, trembling mess.
Finally, he emerged from under my skirt, his lips shiny with my essence, a satisfied, almost triumphant smile curving them.
"You're gorgeous," he whispered, leaning in to capture my mouth in a kiss. I tasted myself on his tongue—musky, intimate—as our lips moved together. Despite the lingering flicker of resistance in my mind, I kissed him back, my hands cupping his face, the fight dissolving into surrender.
Breaking the kiss, Derek helped me adjust, his touch lingering on my hip, sending another shiver through me. He then grabbed my hand, pulling me to my feet. "Come with me," he whispered, pulling me along before I could object.