Chapter 6 Abel
Abel
Tatum stands before me, and I can’t breathe.
Not because I’m struggling to believe this is happening—I’m past that now.
No, it’s because her breasts are out, full and perfect in the morning light, and her thumbs are hooked into the waistband of those shorts like she’s about to unwrap the only gift I’ll ever want.
Every nerve in my body is firing at once.
My mouth goes dry. My cock thickens, straining against my pajama pants so insistently that I have to shift just to ease the pressure.
Christ. I’ve never wanted anything the way I want her right now.
Never felt this kind of clawing hunger that starts in my gut and spreads outward until my whole body aches with it.
She came out here with her demands already prepared, and now she’s stripping down like she’s finally decided to stop running from whatever this thing is between us.
But even as my blood runs hot, even as I watch her fingers flex against those shorts like she’s daring herself to push them down, my brain won’t shut up.
What if she regrets this? What if she gets halfway through and realizes she wanted her first time to be with someone she loves—someone permanent? Someone who isn’t just a guy on a mountain she barely knows?
Could that be me?
The question burns. And seeing her stand there, flushed and impatient, squirming under my gaze as if she might actually combust if I don’t touch her soon—it makes me want to risk everything. Even if this ends with my heart in pieces, I’ll never forgive myself for not trying.
I scoot back from the table, clearing space, pushing aside everything in my path. I don’t want coffee or breakfast. I don’t want anything except her. The only meal I’m hungry for is Tatum, spread out right here where I can taste every inch.
Her shorts hit the floor as a pool of silk at her feet, and I’m gone—every coherent thought evaporates.
My hands actually shake with the need to grab her, to haul her onto this table and bury myself inside her until we both forget our own names.
The impulse to scoop her up is almost overwhelming, to plant her on the edge and feast until she’s screaming.
I need to go slow. Without question, it’s a must.
I force the words through my head like a mantra. She’s worked up, yes. Flushed, ready, and clearly wanting this. But one wrong move—one moment of me letting this hunger take over—and she could panic. She could bolt. She could look at me with regret instead of that desperate heat in her eyes.
That’s the last thing I want.
So, even if it feels like pulling teeth, I stay still. I let her come to me. But God, every second she stands there, every heartbeat that passes without my mouth on her skin, the hunger sinks its claws deeper.
I’ve never been this hard in my life. Never wanted to consume someone so completely, and she has no idea. No idea that I’m barely holding myself back. That I’m this close to devouring her whole.
The second she’s naked, stepping out of her clothes like she’s unwrapping my birthday present, I forget how to breathe. She’s radiant in a way that makes my eyes ache—all soft curves and blushing skin, and fuck, she’s finally within my reach. Finally ready to give herself to me.
When she takes my hand and steps between my legs, that shy little smile threatens to undo me completely.
“Sit on the edge there for me, sweetheart. Let me see what you’re offering me.”
She bites her lip, hesitating. “You’re sure right here is okay? You… eat here.”
I nod, fighting a grin. Not the time to tease. “That’s what I plan on doing. Plus, the reminder of you every time I sit here? Not exactly a hardship.”
What a lie. It’ll be torture. Every time I settle into this chair from now on, I’ll feel the ghost of her thighs under my palms, smell the sweet musk of her wanting.
My cock thickens just thinking about it.
Worth it, though. So worth it when she lifts herself onto the edge and lets her thighs fall open.
Jesus. She’s slick. Pink and glistening and so fucking pretty that I can’t look away. My mouth floods, and I have to swallow hard to keep from drooling like some kind of animal. I’m not entirely sure I succeed.
“Don’t be shy, Tatum…” I gently wrap my hands around her ankles and bend her knees. Planting her open, I’m inhaling deep in hopes of teasing myself with a hint of her flavor.
Every ounce of brain power is going toward not imagining burying myself inside her.
Not yet. If she’s a virgin—and the way she’s squirming, that bashful little wiggle that has me gripping the chair arms—I need to learn her first. Learn what makes her gasp, what makes her arch, what makes her fall apart.
“You said you touched yourself yesterday, yeah?” The question rumbles out of me, low and rough.
That tiny nod—just a dip of her chin—nearly makes me howl.
Knowing I left her like this. Worked up and unsatisfied, taking care of herself because I wasn’t there to do it.
That thought will tear at me for the rest of my days, but I’ll make it up to her.
By the time I’m done, she won’t need her own fingers ever again.
“Show me.” The words scrape out of my throat, and I realize I’ve stopped breathing. My lungs burn as hot as the rest of my insides. “You’ll let me watch, won’t you?”
Her lips part in shock before she bites down on the bottom one again, considering my request. Then, her eyes flutter shut, and I refuse to blink as her hand drifts down her stomach. Lower and lower, past that soft curve of her stomach, past the dark patch of hair, until—
I exhale hard as her fingers make contact, parting those slick lips like she’s showing off just for me.
“I’ve never had an audience before.” She tries to laugh, but it comes out breathy. Needy.
“How does it feel?” My hand drops to my pajama pants, fisting the hard length of myself through the cotton in a desperate attempt to keep myself from unraveling at a record speed. If I don’t, I’ll ruin these boxers for sure. “You want me to look away?”
Her eyes crack open, and when her finger grazes her clit, her breath hitches audibly. “No… This is weird, but… good weird.”
Good weird. Fuck, she’s adorable.
Then she arches slightly and moans as she spreads her own slick along her fingers. Watching her touch herself, watching her feel herself because I asked her to… my cock throbs painfully in my grip.
I’m not going to last much longer as a spectator. Not when she’s making those sounds. Not when I can see exactly how wet she is, exactly where she needs me. My mouth waters. My hands shake with restraint.
She’s killing me, and she doesn’t even know it.
“That’s it, sweetheart.” My voice comes out rougher than intended, stripped down to something on the edge of animalistic. “Don’t stop on my account.”
Her fingers move in slow circles, tentative at first, like she’s still aware of my eyes on her. But then her head tips back slightly, and those circles get surer, quicker. She’s forgetting I’m here. Forgetting everything except the feeling building inside her.
I squeeze myself again, harder this time, and it does nothing to ease the ache. If anything, it makes it worse—reminding me of what I actually want to be doing. What I will be doing as soon as she lets me.
“Look at me, Tatum.”
Her eyes flutter open, hazy and half-lidded. She’s close. I can tell by the way her thighs tense, the way her breathing’s gone shallow.
“You’re gonna come for me, aren’t you?” I lean forward, close enough that my breath ghosts across her knee. “Right here, with me watching. Let me see what you look like when you fall apart.”
She whimpers, and it nearly undoes me.
Reaching to stroke her inner thighs, I lean in. “No matter what, you won’t stop touching yourself until you come.” Saying it as a statement, she nods anyway. Rumbling in approval, I finally lean in and graze her fingers with my tongue.
While her sweetness hits my taste buds and makes me groan deep, she’s gasping lightly in surprise. Still, she continues to circle that sensitive nub, nice and slow, as if she wants to drag out this moment.
I work her with my tongue, flat strokes and pointed flicks, learning the sounds she makes for each one. The little gasps. The way her hips start to jerk against the wood.
Once the soft, breathy moans of my name start leaving her lips, I know I’m done for. I’m going to ruin my underwear, my pants, the whole thing, but I can’t even care.
When I finally slide one finger inside her, she arches in the air with a gasp.
I don’t stop—can’t stop, not when she tastes like this, not when she’s clenching around me.
I add a second finger, crooking them just right, when her free hand tightens in my hair.
While I’m lapping her up, she’s pulling hard enough to make my cock pulse.
“That’s it,” I murmur against her, the words vibrating through her. “Give me more. Fucking starving for this sweetness.”
I feel it building. The tension in her thighs, the way her breathing hitches, the desperate little sounds she’s making.
Her fingers speed up, and I watch every micro-expression that crosses her face. The way her brow furrows. The way her lips part.
I can’t look away. This is too beautiful to miss a single second.
When she comes, it’s with a gasp that sounds like my name caught in her throat.
Her hips rock against her own hand, riding it out, and I’m so hard I might actually die from it.
I’m pretty sure that I do. Hell, I groan against her folds, feeling every painful pulse as they shoot through me. I can’t stop it from happening.
Never in my forty-five years have I come undone without being touched. Tatum can take that first from me in return of what I had taken from her.
I work her through her orgasm, lapping gently as she shudders and shakes above me, drinking down every last drop until she’s tugging weakly at my hair, oversensitive and gasping.
Only then do I lift my head, grinning like the animal I feel like I am. Not only have I gotten a good taste of her, but I also made sure not to leave any crumbs behind.
Before she’s even finished trembling, I’m on my feet, stepping between her thighs. Her hand’s still there, still pressed against herself, and I cover it with mine.
“Beautiful.” The word’s barely a whisper against her lips. “Absolutely fucking beautiful.”
She’s still catching her breath, still hazy from her release, and I want to memorize every second of it. Want to brand this image behind my eyelids so I can call it up whenever I need it.
Peppering kisses against her chest and her neck, I finally end up at her mouth. Coaxing her with my tongue, I thrive off the way she clings to me. Makes it easy to hook her legs around my waist so I can pick her up.
“How about we get you cleaned up and then hit the town?” Murmuring the question against her lips, I thrive at the gasp that leaves her when I easily pull her from the table. “Or are you zapped out of energy?”
If she wants, after we’re both cleaned up, I’ll take her to my bed and keep her to my chest while she recoups. Right now, I’m ready to do anything as long as she’s within my reach.
Pulling away from my kisses, she hides her face in the crook of my neck and nods. “Going to town sounds nice. Let’s do it.”