Chapter Fourteen
Fourteen
Jack
I have no idea how we got here, but all I know is I can’t seem to stop.
I won’t pretend that I haven’t been thinking about this for the last few days—maybe even longer than that, if I were really being honest with myself.
There’s something about Abigail Thompson that calls to me, and even when I’m pretending it’s all just to rile her up, I think, deep down, I’ve always known I was a little more attracted to her than I should be.
I don’t know how we manage to get the apartment door open with the way she’s still kissing me, and I’m giving back as good as I get as her lips move against mine and her tongue swipes tentatively against the seam there.
And I open for her—I immediately let her in.
My arms move around her as I pull her in closer, and to my infinite surprise, she leans into me without a fight.
I think in all the fleeting moments where I let myself imagine this—and there have been enough to prevent me from claiming this is completely out of character for me—I expected her to be less eager.
I expected her to fight this attraction we obviously have for one another tooth and nail, so when she sighs sweetly into my mouth and tugs me closer, I mentally fist pump at the victory.
I kick the door shut behind us when we stumble inside, managing to reach behind me to lock the bolt as her hands push at my jacket to try to shove it off my shoulders.
Her slim fingers linger as they trail down my biceps, squeezing me there, trailing their way back up to my shoulders to give them the same treatment, almost like she’s allowing herself to…
explore me. And I like that, I find. I like that a lot.
I let my hand do a little wandering of its own, my fingertips skimming beneath the hem of her sweater to feel bare skin beneath.
Her belly quivers under my touch, her breath catches in a gasp that I collect with my tongue, and I feel the way she shivers all over, feel the flutter of her lashes against my cheek.
“Abby,” I breathe. “Where is this going?”
She pulls back, her lips kiss bitten and her eyes hooded. “I don’t know.”
“Are we…Do you want to…?”
“I don’t think I’m ready for that,” she says succinctly.
“This is fine,” I tell her immediately. “We can just—”
“But we can do this,” she tells me, driving home her point with another press of her lips against mine. “Maybe a little more,” she murmurs, her hand suddenly cupping me through my jeans.
I hiss at the contact, my eyes slamming shut as I tilt my hips into her touch.
“Abby,” I groan. “Let me touch you at least. Can I?”
When my eyes open, I notice her pupils are blown, her lips parted in surprise.
A shaky breath escapes her as she nods back at me, and I waste no time gathering her into my arms, my hands gripping her ass to pull her up against my body as her legs wrap around my waist. Now that I have her permission, the need to touch her is overwhelming.
The untouchable Abigail Thompson, and yet she’s given me permission.
I can’t get her to my room fast enough.
We lose our shoes on the way; I kick my door open with socked feet as my lips wander across her throat, tasting her, savoring her—because it’s hitting me just now how badly I want to. How much I might have wanted to long before this. She’s such a mystery, Abby—one I want to solve.
We fall into my bed together, her mouth still on mine and her hands roaming wherever they can reach—under my shirt, beneath the waistband of my jeans so that her nails tease at my ass—all of it driving me just a little more wild as my hands grip at her hips.
“I want to taste you,” I tell her, my voice sounding like a plea. “I want to make you come.”
She squirms in my hold. “You don’t have to—”
“I want to,” I stress. “But only if you want me to.”
Her teeth worry at her lower lip as she looks up at me, her blond hair falling around her face like a halo. She looks torn, but not against it.
“Only if you want me to,” I say again, quieter this time, as my finger teases the button of her jeans.
Her nod is barely there, but the lust in her eyes is burning and bright when she says, “Touch me.”
“Thank fuck,” I mutter, quickly unbuttoning her jeans and tugging them down her thighs.
Her skin is pale and soft-looking, and all I can think about is getting my mouth between her legs, seeing if she tastes as good as she looks.
She helps me shimmy her out of her jeans before I toss them aside, and when I notice the damp spot between her legs, it makes me feel feral, knowing I made her this way.
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” I hum, palming her thighs and tugging them apart.
She laughs even as I hook my fingers into the elastic of her underwear at her hips. “In an Ian way.”
“You’re never going to let me forget that,” I groan.
Her smile is devilish. “Probably not.”
“Hm.” I smirk, teasing her underwear over her hips and down her thighs to reveal wet, blond curls and the heady scent of her arousal. “What if I told you that you’re so pretty it hurts to look at you sometimes?”
Fuck.
She’s already so wet. Wet for me. For all the time I’ve known Abby, I never imagined that she could ever feel anything for me. I’ve known from the moment I met her that she was too good for me, and yet here she is beneath me, wriggling and writhing and begging without words for my touch.
“Look at you,” I rasp, running my palms up the insides of her thighs. “So fucking wet for me.”
I tease her slick folds with one knuckle, running it up the crease of her until it’s as wet as she is. I hold her gaze when I bring it to my mouth, licking it clean as my lashes flutter at the taste of her.
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” I tell her. “I’m going to eat this pretty pussy until you’re begging me to stop”—she sucks in a breath, her chest rising and falling rapidly underneath the thin cotton of her T-shirt—“and then I’m going to come all over you.”
She’s panting now, but I need to hear the words.
“If you want it,” I add. “Only if you want it.”
Her throat bobs with a swallow, her fingers clenching in my sheets as she nods fervently.
“Touch me,” she says. “I want that. I want everything you just said.”
A ghost of a moan escapes me at only the thought of making her come on my tongue. “Happy to.”
I dive between her legs, throwing them over my shoulders as my tongue parts her, her flavor making me moan in earnest. She squirms, and I grip her thighs tighter around my ears, holding her still as I lap at her pussy like a starving man.
And in the moment, for all intents and purposes—I fucking am.
My dick throbs in my jeans, begging for me to touch it, begging for relief—but this isn’t about me right now. Abigail Thompson is letting me touch her, and I don’t plan on wasting a single second of it.
I tease and lick through her soft, wet folds, fueled by her low moans and her throaty whimpers.
My fingernails bite into the silky skin of her thighs, and I close my eyes as I swirl my tongue around the swollen bud of her clit.
Her back bows from the bed, and when I open my eyes to look up at her, I see her hands reach wildly for the sheets around her, as if to ground herself.
“Jack,” she gasps.
I feel my blood boil at the sound of my name on her tongue, pulling her clit between my lips to suck at it roughly until she’s gasping from it.
My cock is an iron bar between my legs, and I shift my hips to gain some friction from the mattress, but I can’t seem to stop tasting her.
Can’t seem to stop holding her tightly against me, relishing her little sounds and her writhing body, like she can’t help herself.
“Right there,” she moans, tilting her hips so that she can get closer to my mouth. “Oh. Right there.”
I lick one hot stripe up her center, peering up at her where her head rests against my pillows.
I can see the flush of her cheeks from the thin closet light I left on earlier, can hear her short breaths as she wriggles and squirms. I want to tell her how fucking beautiful she looks—not in an Ian way, but in a way that’s entirely hers—but that would mean I had to stop what I’m doing, and I can’t stop until I feel her coming on my tongue.
I can tell she’s close, can hear it in her voice and feel it in her shaking limbs, and I double my efforts, sucking on her clit in deep, rhythmic pulls as my fingers itch to press inside her—but that’s not what we agreed on.
“I’m close,” she rasps. “Keep doing that. Just keep—fuck, Jack, right there—”
I roll my hips against the mattress as my cock throbs and aches, but every other cell in my body is hyperfocused on the way she comes apart on my tongue, the way her fingers are suddenly in my hair, tugging so hard that I feel a sting.
But I don’t care, too busy licking her through it, making sure to prolong every drop of her pleasure, needing every little bit she can give me.
And only when she’s pushing at my forehead to try to push me away, overstimulated, do I pull away, rising up on my knees and trying to catch my breath.
Abby stares up at me through hooded eyes, her chest heaving and her throat working, her arm reaching out weakly as her fingers skirt over the hard bulge in the front of my jeans.
“The rest,” she murmurs. “I want the rest.”
I don’t need to be told twice—quickly undoing my jeans and shoving them down my thighs with my boxer briefs in tow until my cock slaps up against my stomach.
I never look away from her as I begin to stroke, and I can already tell this will be over far too quickly.
I’m too wound up, too high off the taste of her still lingering on my tongue, and I fall down to prop myself up on one hand, leaning in to cover my mouth with hers as I work my cock roughly.
“Abby,” I breathe into her mouth between kisses, twisting my fist at my cockhead as pre-cum slicks my palm. “Abby.”
I feel her fingers slide through my hair, chasing after my mouth. “Come,” she murmurs. “Come all over me.”
She claws at her shirt until it’s rucked up over her bra, revealing the smooth expanse of her belly as I stroke harder, faster, working myself over and over until finally—
“Fuck.”
Come jets from my cock, spilling all over her stomach as I groan through it.
My lungs feel raw as I gasp for breath, the orgasm so powerful my vision whites out for several seconds.
When I can finally see again, I’m still looming over her, her gray eyes looking up at me with a satisfied glow about them.
I let my forehead fall against hers, still trying to catch my breath. Abby’s fingers are still in my hair, and my slowly softening cock slides against the mess on her belly, and I can’t remember feeling better than I do at this exact moment—and we didn’t even go all the way.
I can feel the way I’m probably crushing her, so I collapse to one side, my chest heaving as fatigue hits me like a bag of bricks. My eyes feel heavy, and I’m sated and deliriously happy in a way I can’t even begin to describe.
“That was…”
“Good,” Abby finishes.
I blow a raspberry. “That was fucking fantastic.”
“Always so full of yourself,” she chuckles.
I wrap my arms around her as I press a kiss to her cheek. “Mm. I think we can both agree now that it’s a little earned.”
I don’t miss the roll of her eyes, but there’s a small smile at her mouth too, so I don’t take it to heart.
“I need to clean up,” she says, shifting away from me a little.
My eyes feel even heavier now—whether from the mind-blowing orgasm or the game, I can’t say—but I can feel them drooping as Abby rolls away from me.
She doesn’t look at me as she does it, but I turn my face into the pillow where her head just was, breathing in the scent of her shampoo and smiling into it.
“Come back to bed after,” I mumble, watching through bleary eyes as she moves toward the bathroom.
She doesn’t answer, but that’s okay. She’ll come back.
I keep breathing in the soft scent of her, smiling all the while as I drift off to sleep.