Chapter Nineteen – Hawthorne #2
Up until her, my willpower has never been in question.
I simply didn’t think about those types of things, but with Abby…
everything is impossible. Going on like things used to be is literally impossible.
I can’t be the same Hawthorne I was with her; I have to be someone new, someone who’s always been there, beneath my skin, waiting for the right moment to emerge.
All it took was the right person. Just call me a hot chocolate chip cookie straight out of the oven, because I’m crumbling for Abby like I’ve never crumbled before.
“Let’s go to the bedroom and see if we can’t tire each other out,” she goes on, still stroking me over my pants. “I’d say we could do it right here on your desk, but I have the feeling that might be asking too much for our first time.”
She hops off the desk, finally drawing her hand off me, and in doing so she rubs her entire body against mine. She doesn’t say a word more, but she does slip her hand into mine and lead me away from my desk, out of my office, and to the bedroom that used to be mine.
We’re in the dark until we make it to the bedside, where Abby releases my hand so she can lean over the lamp on the nightstand and turn it on. As that dim bulb flickers to life, she turns toward me once more, and the smile she wears is pure lust and desire.
Stepping toward me, she reaches for my belt and says, “Don’t worry. I’ll help you out of these clothes. You have to feel so hot in them. We’ll fix that.” Once my belt is undone, she tugs my shirt out of the waistband of my slacks and starts on the buttons, moving from the bottom-most button upward.
She’s right. I do feel hot. I feel so unbelievably hot you’d think we didn’t have air conditioning in this house.
We do, and we keep it at a nice sixty-nine degrees.
Once my shirt is fully unbuttoned, she helps me out of it, never taking her eyes off me. I wear a thin undershirt, and that comes off, too. With my chest completely bare, she takes both hands and runs them along my body.
I’m not muscled like Royal or even Ezra, but I like to think I’m not bad. I might sit at a desk for the majority of the day, but I’m still pretty lean. Must be my metabolism or something—or maybe it’s because sometimes all I have before noon is coffee.
Abby hums as she works on my pants, and as she pulls them down, she drops to her knees. I step out of them, and she bats them away and peels off my socks, though she never takes her eyes off the bulge in my boxer briefs.
Those boxer briefs? The last thing she takes off, and the very second she slides them down my body, my cock springs free, and just like that I am one hundred percent naked.
You’d think not having all those clothes on would cool me off, but no.
If anything, I’m hotter than I was before, and I owe that internal heat to the woman on her knees before me.
She continues to take charge by bringing a hand to my cock and stroking me, only having eyes for it now that it’s free. She sends a smirk my way, and then does something I’m not expecting, something I haven’t even thought of.
My thoughts are on sex, of course, but what Abby does next pushes those thoughts away, albeit temporarily. She parts her lips and takes me in, and I can’t help but groan as I watch her head bob along my length, as I feel her wet, warm mouth surround my cock.
Holy…
Shit.
It feels so good. Too good. Too good I can’t think, I can’t do anything but let her go at me however she wants to.
She moves her head slowly, using her one hand to keep the skin taut and pulled tight, and the action makes everything feel ten million times better.
Every so often her tongue swirls around the tip, and she sucks hard, so hard I feel like she’s sucking the literal cum out of me.
She’s eating me alive, and I love it.
Abby pulls her mouth off my cock and tells me, “It’s okay, Hawthorne. You can moan and say whatever you want. You don’t have to be quiet or anything.”
If she wants to hear me moan, then she’ll hear me moan. Hell, I’m fairly certain if she told me to act like a dog and crawl around on all fours, I’d do it. I’d do anything she says.
As she returns to my cock, I can only watch her for a few moments before I have to throw my head back and let out a low, feral moan.
My heart beats faster than it’s ever beaten in my chest. The pleasure is overwhelming, the kind of thing you can’t run from.
It instantly threatens to drown me in its embrace, and I can’t get enough.
It’s too much. It is simply too much.
“I can’t,” I stutter out the words, tripping over them as if I’ve never spoken a word in my life. The pleasure is too much for me to bear. I don’t know how anyone could feel this way and last. “I’m—”
It’s all I can get out before I come, spilling myself in her mouth, the heated cum shooting out of me and into her throat, over and over again until I am spent. And Abby? She doesn’t pull back, doesn’t tear her mouth off my cock. Oh, no. She swallows me down like that was her plan all along.
Abby is unhurried in pulling her mouth off my length after I come, and when she finally does, she licks her lips and murmurs, “There you go. I knew you could do it.”
I might not outwardly show it, but inwardly I beam at her praise. Again, she could tell me to do anything right now and I would leap to do it. I watch as she stands and pushes me toward the bed, and I fall back, my cock swaying with each movement.
She slips off her pajama shirt—a fairly low-cut, thin material that perfectly hid the bra resting beneath it, and that bra comes off immediately after.
I suck in a hard breath as I view her free tits, memorizing the way they bounce and heave as she moves.
She hooks her fingers around the waistband of her shorts, and soon enough they’re at her ankles on the floor.
She either wasn’t wearing panties underneath or dropped them in the same movement; doesn’t really matter which one.
Nope. It doesn’t matter, because now she’s as naked as I am and about to crawl on top of me.
“Scoot back,” she orders me, and I do as she commands. I’m so used to telling the others what to do, or what not to do, that I surprise myself with how badly I want her to keep ordering me around.
I stop when my head rests on the pillow. The sheets are a crumpled mess beneath us, but she doesn’t seem to mind as she crawls on top of me, giving me a nice view of her body, the way gravity pulls down those round tits.
When she’s finally above me, I can’t help it. I reach for her and let my hands roam over her, much like she did to me when she first took off my clothes. Over her waist, along her back, to her tits and those pebbled nipples.
Abby sits herself on my lower stomach, her legs open and wide, allowing me to see her apex in the dull lamplight.
That pink space full of wonder and untold promises.
Now that she’s sitting on me, I can feel how wet she is, and knowing she’s wet for me reminds me that my cock never really lost its hardness.
She arches her back as I acquaint myself with her body, grinding against me for what must be the pressure. My thumbs flick over her nipples, and she lets out a short, breathy moan. That sound would be enough to drive any man crazy.
She leans down and kisses me, and I don’t even care that I can taste myself on her lips. I don’t care when she pushes her tongue into my mouth and all but forces it. I don’t care. Literally, whatever she wants to do to me, she can. I am a willing victim when it comes to her.
While our tongues intertwine, she takes one of my hands off her chest and guides it lower, to her apex. She places it where she wants it, putting my fingers on either side of her clit, and then she grinds down on it, using my hand like…
Well, like she’s masturbating on it.
Abby knows what she wants, what she likes. She moans into the messy kiss, and soon enough she has to pull her mouth off mine and pant as her breathing becomes quicker. Her eyes close, and she straightens out her back as she rides my hand to an orgasm.
I file it all away; knowing what makes her feel good would be fantastic information to have at a later date. The sight of her riding my hand makes my cock twitch with renewed need, but right now, it isn’t about me. It’s about her and her impending explosion of pleasure.
She throws her head back when it happens, and I can feel her clit pulsate the same moment she cries out. Her thighs clamp around my midsection, but she doesn’t stop grinding against my hand as the orgasm sweeps through her. No, she keeps going, and I swear her orgasm lasts forever and a day.
It’s hot in a way nothing else can be.
Only when she’s settled from her orgasmic high does she let my hand go, and she gives me a sloppy smile and says, “Ready to get ridden, cowboy?” She bites her bottom lip after she asks that, her face flushed to the extreme. I bet mine is, too.
The only thing I can do is nod my approval. If I try to speak right now, there’s no way it’d be intelligible.
She lifts her ass off me, scooting down so she hovers against my rock-hard cock. She starts to lower herself, seconds from having my cock pierce her from below… when someone else strolls into the room.
Royal.
“Is everything okay?” he grunts out with a yawn, rubbing his eyes as he ventures deeper into the room.
The moment he presents himself, Abby stops, an inch away from my cock.
Royal must then finally realize she’s not alone in the room, because he’s about ten feet away when he skids to a stop and his eyes widen.
He takes us in, our position, how naked we are, what Abby is about to do. A second passes before he folds his arms over his bare chest and says, “I see rules for us but not for you, eh? How the fuck’s that work?”
Abby grins at us both, and I figure she’s waiting for me to speak. Damn it.
The only thing I can say, and it’s like pulling teeth as I say it with how badly I want her to sink down on me, is: “We can revisit the rules.”