Chapter 17 #2
“Come with me, Abigail.” An order, but a request all the same. If I brush him off and claim that disappearing in the middle of an event is unprofessional, he’ll agree and wait for later. But I don’t want to wait.
I scan the room out of habit, noting that everything looks impeccable. The arrangements are holding their shapes, the tablescapes are lovely even after the dishes have been cleared, and everyone is having a great time.
I nod and let Lorenzo lead me out of the main ballroom with a guiding hand on my lower back. He draws me to a dark corner, pulling the glittery tulle back and gesturing for me to go ahead. What I find is a doorway hidden in shadows by the lighting and fabric overlay.
“We’ll have to be quick and quiet,” I whisper, knowing he can’t see me because I can’t see him.
He uses my voice to find me in the dark, his lips landing on mine with precise aim. Our bodies mold together, our hands touching and exploring in the dark.
And I’m struck by the most brilliant idea I’ve ever had. I take charge, pushing him back against the wall. “Abigail?” He chuckles in surprise.
But I’m about to surprise him a hell of a lot more.
I let my hands trace his chest, my nails scraping at the ridges of his abs through his shirt until I find his belt. Undoing it and then his pants, I free his cock.
He moans as I take him in hand, giving his hard length a few strokes. And then I drop to my knees in front of him. I let my hands guide his length to my mouth and lay a few sweet kisses to his crown.
I close my eyes even though I’m blind in the dark and encircle his cock with my wet, warm mouth. Up and down, I move slowly and methodically to coat him in saliva and lap up the precum at his tip.
“Oh, fuck,” he groans as his hands twine into my hair.
He doesn’t guide me, though, simply letting me work him, and it’s like he needs to touch me to believe this is real and not a figment of his imagination, a dark fantasy of a faceless mouth sucking him off with a party still loudly raging an unlocked door away.
This is so dangerous, and yet I’ve never been more turned on. I enjoy giving Lorenzo pleasure and feel a thrill at the muffled grunts and curses he’s muttering as he tries to stay quiet.
I hum against his skin, “Mmm . . . my poor Lorenzo.” I pull back and use my hands for a moment as I tease him, whispering, “It feels so good. You want to be loud, but you know we might be heard. And how would it look for the chef to be found mouth-fucking the florist?”
“Ugh,” he growls, his hips pushing forward to slide his cock in my tight-fisted grip. “You’re torturing me,” he hisses. “You’ll pay for this, mia rosa. Now, suck me.”
He’s on the edge. I can hear it in the tight, strangled words and feel it as his balls pull up tight against my fist. I don’t tease anymore.
I swallow his cock as deeply as I can, letting it bump into my throat.
I hear a thump from above and realize he’s thrown his head back to the wall in pleasure.
I imagine the cords of his neck straining, his teeth gritted.
And so I stop, returning to light licks along his tip until he’s trembling beneath me.
With a smile, I suck him down once again until I find a rhythm that pushes him higher and higher, moaning around his thickness.
My eyes are closed tight, stars shooting across my vision, and I remind myself to breathe.
Inhaling his musky, manly scent makes me desperate for more.
I want him, all of him. So this time, when his breath catches in his lungs, his hands bury into my hair, and he thrusts into my throat, I take it all.
He comes, explosively filling my mouth with rope after rope of thick, creamy cum that I swallow down hungrily, reflexively not letting a single drop spill out of my lips.
“Cazzo, mia rosa,” he mutters on a jagged exhale.
I wipe at my lips, dainty as can be, like the society-bred woman I am . . . who just sucked off a guy in a dark hallway, I think with a smile. Rising, I find Lorenzo’s lips and give him a quick kiss. “I need to get back out there. I’ve been gone too long.”
He growls. “No, I want to taste you too.”
Even though he can’t see me, I shake my head. “Later. Tonight.”
He catches me in his hands, cupping my face. “I’ll hold you to that, Abigail,” he vows before kissing me deeply.
“I’ll go out first. Give it a minute so we don’t look suspicious, and then you can come out too.”
I feel his chuckle, his chest jumping beneath my palms. “Why does it sound like you’ve done this before?”
“A girl never reveals her secrets,” I tease.
Truthfully, I’ve never done anything like this.
Oh, I’ve made out in closets, but when you’re a stupid teenager and come out after Seven Minutes in Heaven, everyone cheers and asks you how it was.
I definitely do not think that would be the case at this party.
And full disclosure, it was awful as a teen, all unsure and awkward and never more than some over-the-clothes petting.
Blowing Lorenzo at a rehearsal dinner, in contrast, was awesome.
I straighten my clothes, even remembering to smooth my hair back a bit from Lorenzo’s ruffling fingers, before quietly and slowly opening the door back into the ballroom.
I’m still behind the glittery tulle, a black-dressed shadow in a shadowy room, when I hear something that stops me in my tracks.
“I can’t talk now. She’s right here,” Cole says. Peering through the haze of the fabric, I can see he’s got his phone pressed to his ear. A dark thought goes through me and settles like a stone in my stomach.
It’s not so much what he’s said but the secretive way he said it and the way he’s looking over to Claire like he’s making sure she’s blissfully unaware of his conversation.
No, don’t jump to conclusions, Abi. There’s no use in doing that.
“Yeah, I’ll call you back later after she goes to sleep. I love you, too.”
And with that, Cole hangs up the phone and walks off to rejoin the party.
Uhm, excuse me . . . what? The? Fuck? He loves who?
Because his bride to be is standing a few feet away, smiling and laughing as she talks to an old lady, and the only other person I could think of that he’d be saying ‘I love you’ to is his mom, and she’s on the dance floor with his dad.
Shit.