Chapter 15 #2
I can already feel my pulse starting to race as I pull Abigail to me.
I lead her in a classic square step to see if she can follow a lead, and to my delight, she does remarkably well.
I even dip her, and she leans back easily, trusting me to support her like we did at yoga.
When she returns to standing upright, her body is aligned with mine fully.
“I want you,” I whisper honestly over the music. “I want you in every way, every day I can have you.”
It’s a big confession from me, a hint that I’m thinking beyond this week. I don’t know what the future holds, I never do, but the idea of spending it without Abigail makes it seem pointless. We could do so many things, show each other so much.
“You . . . you have me,” Abigail responds, but there’s a question in her eyes. She can feel that I’m saying more but isn’t pushing me. Not yet.
The music comes to an end, and I finish with a big spinning lift that has our lips a paper’s thickness apart.
Well, of course we make it through. Emily and Doug, I note, make it through as well, mainly because while Doug dances like he dresses, about as bland as beige khakis, he at least can keep to a basic rhythm.
Off to the far side of the floor, I see Janey dancing with a trio of young girls, all of whom made it too.
“Partner up,” the voice announces. “It doesn’t have to be someone you know, but be warned, you’ll know them after this.”
Chairs are brought out and placed around the dance floor. I see guys starting to sit down, so I do the same. Janey’s got one of her new friends seated in front of her.
A slow, sexy synth beat starts, and Abigail jumps up and down, clapping as she gives me a huge grin. “Oh, my God, I know this one!”
I think she means the song, but doesn’t everyone know Ginuwine’s Pony? Not that I watched Magic Mike, but I’ve been known to dance to this a time or two myself in the club.
Abigail does a slow, seductive sway of her hips. “When I go to the gym with Courtney, this is a song in Zumba class. I don’t remember exactly how it goes, but I think I can fake my way through well enough.”
I growl at the way she’s tracing her hands over her circling hips. “Doing great, mia rosa.”
“You ain’t seen nothing yet,” she warns sassily, confidence oozing from her now.
She’s right. She rolls her hips, flirts with the hem of her dress, drops it down, butterflies her legs open, and a whole bunch of other moves she apparently learned in this class. All the while, she takes every opportunity to rub herself against me, driving me wild.
My cock is rock hard in my swimsuit, hungry to be buried inside Abigail’s warm sweetness once again.
She slides down my body, biting her lip suggestively as she looks squarely at the bulge in my shorts then up to my eyes. If we weren’t in the middle of the dance floor, I would tease her lips open with the head of my cock and let her suck me.
But the people clapping remind me that I can’t do that here. I fist the chair to stay steady, fighting for control.
Abigail keeps going with her seductive dance, turning around and placing her hands on my knees to grind against my lap. She throws her head back and whispers, “You ready for this?”
“Anything,” I vow.
She moves her hands down my legs to the floor and then carefully lifts one leg and then the other to my shoulders, bending herself into an L shape. It’s almost like we’re in yoga class again and she’s doing handstands.
Oh, mio Dio, is there anything this woman can’t do?
Her dress sags, letting me see up it to her core, which is covered by a tiny black swimsuit.
Before I know what’s happening, Abigail has bent her knees, which with her feet hooked over my shoulders, pulls my face directly toward her ass. I smash nose first into her pussy and can hear the shocked laughter from the crowd. Quick as can be, she does it again and again.
I laugh in surprise at her boldness.
Good-naturedly, I grab her hips and hold her in place to growl against her. She’s having a bit of fun at my expense, but I can smell her arousal.
The song ends and there are huge amounts of applause, and I even hear a few whistles tossed our way. But she’s all mine, and when it’s time to switch, I push her toward the chair, where she sits down primly as though I don’t know that she’s a gushing fountain for me.
There’s a bit of laughter as the other guys stand up, and it’s pretty clear that I’m not the only one sporting wood. Unashamed, I adjust myself, knowing that Abigail is watching my every move.
“Next round,” the announcer calls.
Surprisingly, I see that Janey got tapped out. I feel certain that it wasn’t for lack of dance skills, though, so if what Abigail did got cheers, what in the world did Janey do? Actually strip?
Also, Emily is now sitting in a chair with a wicked smile of satisfaction on her lips. I guess she got through that round too.
For this round, the song’s just as naughty and dirty, Beyonce’s Drunk In Love. It’s not a song I know well, not common in kitchens, but it doesn’t matter. They could be playing bagpipe polka music and I would still dance for Abigail.
I circle my hips a bit, nowhere near as gracefully as Abigail did, but she doesn’t seem to mind. Letting my hands trace along the buttons of my shirt, I open them one by one to expose my chest.
Abigail’s eyes widen with hunger, and I take her shaking hands in mine, guiding her to touch me. Her fingers delicately dance along my abs, over my chest, and back down to tease along my waistband. I pump my hips forward and back, and I see her chest heaving in time with my movements.
It’s not part of the rules, not part of the dance, but Abigail leans forward and presses a gentle kiss right below my belly button. “Mio Dio,” I hiss and then simply lift her out of the chair to stand before me.
Our tongues twist and go so deep I swear we pour ourselves into each other’s souls with this kiss.
When the announcements come, we don’t win, but I don’t care. I’m too far gone, too desperate for her. I pull Abigail off the dance floor, ignoring the crowd’s cheers, especially Emily’s, and head toward the staircase downstairs to search for one thing . . .
“Here,” I growl, finding an empty room. I shove Abigail inside and lock the door behind us.
I consider trying to reign in my hunger, not wanting to scare her, but to my delight, Abigail pushes her sundress down and unties her top to free her tits before pulling the loose ruffles of the skirt up to reveal that tiny bikini bottom.
“Fuck me, Lorenzo. Take what’s yours,” she says breathlessly as she turns to bend forward over the bed.
I’m so aroused I’ve lost my English and resort to muttering nonsense in Italian about how sexy she is, how fortunate I am, and all the filthy things I want to do her. She doesn’t understand a word, but still, her hips buck in the air as she looks for relief from this ache.
I rip my shirt off and drop my swimsuit to the floor. “Mia rosa,” I say gently as I line up with her pussy. It’s her one last chance, one last kindness I can offer before I unleash on her.
“It’s okay, I’m on birth control. Clean,” she moans.
“Me too,” I grunt as I split her open with a single thrust. “Ugh, yes.”
We’ve had tender moments talking on the beach and in bed after slow and sweet lovemaking.
We’ve had naughty moments like nearly coming in the middle of yoga class and long, torturous orgasms pulled from the depths of our souls.
But never have we just rutted like a pair of wild animals, my hips slamming into Abigail’s ass again and again.
But while my cock claims her pussy, she looks over her shoulder and her lips claim mine.
I feel like a man and an animal all at once, my cock spearing her to send waves of pleasure smashing through her body.
She doesn’t fuck me back. I’m in control, holding her hips as I pound into her.
But she grips the blanket with one hand and reaches back to grab my ass with the other, urging me deeper and harder.
“Oh, my God, yes! More, Lorenzo—” she pants out. “Claim every inch of me. Make me yours.”
Fuck yes. It hits me like a shot of pure white lightning. That’s what I want. For Abigail Andrews to be mine. Not just her body, not just for this moment of wild passion, but in truth.
I growl, my words coming in short grunts of Italian as I speed up.
“Il mio . . .” Mine.
“Sempre . . .” Always.
“Mia rosa . . .amore.” My rose . . . love.
“Amore,” Abigail repeats. She doesn’t speak Italian, but that’s a pretty obvious one. Looking back at me, her eyes are dark and vulnerable, asking if I mean what she means. She won’t give me any more of her heart until she’s sure.
I’m sure. In this moment, I am surer of this than I’ve ever been of anything. Violet’s warning should ring through my head, but it doesn’t. Not at all.
I am simply lost in Abigail—her beauty, her passion, her boldness, and even her quirky weirdness, as she calls it.
“Come, Abigail,” I beg her, holding back so fiercely that I’m trembling on the edge.
I hold her upright, my arms wrapping across her chest and hips to keep her pressed to my body.
Every inch of us is connected, at the skin level and so much deeper.
I tease a finger over her clit and instantly feel her clench down on me as she cries out, and then the pulsing rhythm of her pussy triggers my own orgasm.
We buck into each other, jets of my cum filling her as I rub her clit in smooth circles to draw out more and more pleasure for us both.
I’ve never felt anything like that—a climax that’s as much mind as it is body.
I feel as though I did claim her. She’s mine, but also . . . I am hers.
Surprisingly, I feel no cage from that. Not the way I always feared I would. I feel at peace with Abigail in my arms.
In the post-orgasmic bliss, we’re spent and sweating, making promises with our tongues beyond words.
“So beautiful,” I whisper. “So special.”
Abigail is about to say something in return but a sound pulls my attention. Or rather, a lack of sound.
I put my finger to her lips, tilting my head to listen.
“What?” she says around my finger.
“It’s quiet, too quiet,” I tell her, and I can see the dawning realization on her face. The quiet rumble of the engine, which has thrummed through the boat from the moment we climbed aboard, has stopped.
“Why aren’t we moving?” Abigail asks.
I shrug, not having any idea. This night cruise is more party ship, not swimming or snorkeling, and those are the only reasons we should be stopped.
Unless something is wrong.
Because we are definitely dead in the water.