Chapter 40 #2
"Because I’m going to clean up this whole mess with my tongue, and you’re going to come in my fucking mouth," Taylor brings her lips to Abigail’s ear.
"When I’m done, I’ll sit on you and you’ll put your fingers inside me, and I’ll bite your neck so hard you remember that when we’re at home, you’re only mine.
" Taylor kisses her ear, releases her hair, and steps back to look at her.
Wetness is already running down Abigail’s thighs, but she keeps her face made of stone and her gaze fixed on Taylor. Then she simply sidesteps her with that natural elegance she seems born with, sits on the edge of the sofa leaning back, and spreads her legs as far as she can.
"Start," she orders, and her abdomen begins to tremble with anticipation.
Taylor drops to her knees in front of her. The impact sounds like a sharp crack against her bones, painful, but she doesn’t feel it. Her eyes are locked on Abigail’s sex, on that glistening, heat-slick opening waiting for her.
"You’re so beautiful…" Taylor murmurs, looking up at her from below, just before sliding her tongue over Abigail’s throbbing clit.
She trembles and exhales hard, tangling a hand in Taylor’s dark mane while the singer sucks and licks her with worship, knowing exactly when to slow down, when to speed up, and where to press according to Abigail’s reactions.
The executive feels dizzy from so much pleasure; she doesn’t understand what’s happening to her—her whole body is shaking uncontrollably and she can barely breathe while Taylor keeps working those spots that hold her in a constant, bubbling bliss that will kill her if it doesn’t release soon.
"Are you going to come?" Taylor pants when Abigail suffers a small spasm and moans so loudly that Taylor almost comes herself just from hearing her.
Abigail’s answer is to press the singer’s head to her with her hand. Taylor’s is to slide in two unexpected fingers, curl them at the exact spot, and make Abigail come, shuddering against her mouth in several spasms.
"I could spend all day just listening to you moan," Taylor whispers as she keeps kissing her thighs. "You taste so good…" she adds, licking her lips.
Abigail smiles when she looks at her. Taylor’s mouth is shiny, her lips swollen, and the satisfaction on her face probably mirrors her own.
"Come," Abigail says in a curt, commanding tone, sitting up straight on the sofa.
Taylor straddles her and kisses her with overflowing passion, which Abigail returns as she penetrates her.
"Fuck, yes," Taylor tenses. "Give me another, I’m so horny."
"Stop talking," Abigail snaps, adding a third finger.
The singer growls when she feels it and then smiles in sheer satisfaction.
"You like me telling you how much you turn me on," she pants as she moves slowly over Abigail’s hand, and Abigail has just sucked one of her nipples.
"Yeah," the executive admits, leaning back to take Taylor in, "but right now I just want to look at you and be very aware of the moment your sighs turn into moans, so shut that fucking mouth."
"Mmmm," Taylor murmurs, "okay."
And she gives it to her. Taylor doesn’t speak; she only exhales, sighs, and pants until she moans and ends up screaming when the orgasm crashes over her like a wave as furious as her energy onstage.
When her body relaxes, she collapses onto Abigail and presses her mouth to her neck, first kissing, then sucking, and finally biting until Abigail tenses and moans with a mix of pain and pleasure.
"Mine," Taylor smiles before they both let themselves fall to the side, allowing their eyes to close for a few minutes.
Abigail wakes to the tickling on her back. She’s lying face down on the sofa and at first thinks it’s Taylor’s fingers stroking her very lightly, but as she grows more aware, she realizes it’s something more precise, finer.
"What are you doing?" she asks, turning her neck a little, groaning at the slight pull where Taylor bit her.
"Shhh, don’t move," Taylor asks.
Abigail blinks, starting to wake up fully. She feels Taylor’s weight on her lower back and turns her head again, focusing better now. Taylor is sitting astride her waist, still wearing only her shirt, but she’s holding a marker in her hand and her expression is serious and intent.
"Are you writing on my back?" Abigail asks, stunned, while Taylor leans in and scribbles another line on her bare skin.
"Maybe."
"Maybe?" Abigail repeats.
"Some lines came to me and the only thing I found to write on was your planner," Taylor explains in a whisper, as if she doesn’t want to lose her concentration.
"There are new notebooks in the office, and you have a phone."
"You know I don’t use my phone for that. And I can’t stop to go get a notebook right now, Abby—I almost have it," she says, her tone sounding like a plea.
Abigail’s first impulse is to get up and fetch the notebook herself, but she rethinks it and decides to indulge the singer.
"Go ahead," she murmurs with sarcasm. "Use me to write."
Taylor smiles faintly, but her eyes stay fixed on all those lines she’s already written across that pale skin.
Abigail settles in and closes her eyes, discovering that she likes the sensation; it even relaxes her to feel Taylor on top of her, the touch of the marker on her skin alongside the warmth of her hand as she moves, and the absolute silence in the apartment.
Suddenly she realizes it’s been weeks since she’s felt that infernal tension in her neck on a constant basis.
It’s not that the stress at work has eased or that she’s learned to relax, but she has let Taylor give her massages many nights, and she supposes that having someone to talk to almost every day about what she feels and does helps her lighten that load on her shoulders—not to mention that constant sex must go a long way toward relaxing every muscle.
"I think I’ve got it," Taylor says half an hour later. "Let me read it again."
Abigail tilts her head to look at her, sighing as she takes in that focused look on Taylor’s face.
"Yes, fuck," the singer says, breaking into a smile. "That’s it."
"Can I move now?" Abigail asks.
"Wait, let me take a photo."
"I’m naked, Taylor," Abigail reminds her.
"I know," the singer says with a grin, backing away from the sofa with her phone in hand, "and you are fucking erotic right now. You should be the cover of my first album, you know?" she says, and snaps the photo. "Liam would definitely agree."
Abigail turns and places her hands behind her head.
"I’m not going to tell you what I’ll do to you if you even think about showing that photo to Liam."
Taylor quirks a smile, comes closer, and lies down beside her, cupping one of her breasts with her hand.
"Are you going to read me the song?" Abigail asks.
"Let me copy it into a notebook and I’ll read it to you."
"Then tell me what it’s about."
"It’s about a singer who thinks she’s lost her talent when really she just needed to remember why she started singing," Taylor explains.
"And why did you start singing?" Abigail asks.
"Because I needed to give a voice to every melody I heard. Why did you become a talent scout?"
Abigail frowns, surprised, because it’s the first time anyone’s asked her that; not even she herself had considered the question.
"I think it’s because when I was supposed to be setting my life on track, studying something I was passionate about to make that my future, I was completely lost. My mother had been imposing her goals on me for so long that when it came time to enroll at university, I had no idea what I wanted to do, so I chose law just to do something," Abigail explains.
"You’re a lawyer?" Taylor asks, surprised.
"I don’t practice, but yes," Abigail admits with a crooked smile, "and an economist. Nothing to do with what I do now. I finished law and started economics because numbers caught my attention, but I was just as lost. Until one day I realized I didn’t know what I wanted, but I was very good at finding other people’s innate talent and amplifying it. "
"How?"
"I started with street artists—painters, dancers, singers… whatever, as long as they stood out above the rest. I found them places to exhibit or perform so they could get noticed until I found someone to represent them. And one day I decided the representative could be me. I leaned into the music industry because it was where I’d moved the most; I’d made some contacts, including Liam, and I liked that world where you had to fight for everything. "
"And here you are," Taylor says. "A lawyer and an economist who represents up-and-coming artists in the music scene."
"Except you," Abigail murmurs, eyes fixed on the ceiling.
"Do you regret betting on us and not on me?" Taylor asks.
"I regret not making that decision sooner."