8. Chapter 8
Chapter eight
Abigail
I choose to be here.
I have that empowering thought, but I lose it with Gabe’s tongue. It’s been so long since any man has licked me this intimately. Even longer since it didn’t feel awkward and weird. And nothing about this man feels awkward. Nothing about his tongue and his hands make me feel anything but pleasure. He licks me and his fingers and tongue together send darts of pleasure radiating from my sex, through my entire body. That wave of ultimate release starts to slide through me and I’m not ready, but I can’t hold back. “Gabe,” I pant out, my grip tightening on the railing. “Gabe, I—”
And I do.
I shatter. I tremble. I lose everything but the quaking of my body and his tongue and fingers until I come back to the present and gasp out his name again, “Gabe,” I say and it’s a plea. I’m going to fall. I have no control over my body. He does. He has it all.
He lowers my leg from his shoulder, wraps his arm around my waist and then his lips are on my belly, kissing it, tender and somehow demanding. I can feel his need, his hunger for more, but he holds back. Why is he holding back? “Gabe,” I whisper again and now my hands are free, my fingers diving into his blond hair. “Gabe?”
He looks up at me and any thought I might have had that he was done, that something had happened to end this, fades with the smoldering heat in his eyes. “Say it again. Say my name.”
“Gabe,” I whisper, because the truth is, I like saying his name. I like reminding myself that there is nothing about this night that has anything to do with my past.
That simmering heat in his eyes ignites and he’s on his feet in an instant, cupping my face. “That’s right. Gabe. The man that has you on my tongue.” He closes his mouth over mine, and he kisses me, the taste of me on his lips, now on mine. I don’t expect it to be as arousing as it is, but it is. It so is. He is. I moan and my arms slide around his neck.
He replies to my urgency with a low, rough sound that turns me inside out in all the right ways. I want to be right here, in this moment. I don’t want to think about anything but this man. I press into him, on my toes to deepen the kiss. It’s then that I feel him just seem to snap. I feel his control because his need is mine. We aren’t just kissing anymore. We’re inhaling each other. We’re desperate for each other. We can’t stop touching each other. I don’t even know where I am anymore. I’m mindless, lost, and it’s everything and not enough.
Somehow I end up against the railing again, and Gabe’s still wearing his pants, but his cock is free and thick, and he’s produced a condom from somewhere. He rolls it down his erection and I watch, biting my lip right up until the moment that he’s pressing inside me, lifting me and suddenly I’m on the railing and on him, but that doesn’t last. He cups my backside and now he’s holding me, all of me. I’m clinging to him when he orders, “Lean back.”
“I’ll fall.”
“Trust me not to let you fall, Abbie.”
Abbie.
My father hated that name, so no one calls me that name, but I like it from him.
“Trust me,” he says again, his hand sliding to my back, between my shoulder blades, and I decide I will. I trust him.
I lean back and his hands hold me while his cock drives into me. He shifts and then he’s gripping my hips and pulling me against him even as he thrusts, his gaze raking over my breasts that sway between us. He repeats that move and I help him this time. I grind into him and we begin this wild dance of grind and thrust. Grind and thrust, until I’m right there again, incredibly, I’m there again. In that sweet spot that clenches my sex and then explodes into spasms around his cock.
Gabe groans and pulls me against him because I can’t seem to move. A moment later, I’m sitting on the railing again, and he shudders and quakes before I feel his muscles relax, his head buried in my neck. I reach up and cup his head, holding onto him, when I could let go. I could make this the end, but for reasons I can’t explain, I know it’s not. I feel it. We don’t end here and I can’t remember why I thought we should, why I thought we were a problem.
He picks me up and my legs wrap his waist as he starts walking, and in a few steps, I’m on my back on the couch, with him over the top of me. “How do you feel about pizza and conversation before we do that all over again?”
“I should—”
He kisses me, silencing me with his mouth before he orders, “Don’t say go. You’re not leaving, and if you try, I swear I’ll find some damn window that actually opens in this building and throw your clothes out.”
I laugh. “That’s a little extreme.”
“All right then. I’ll tie you up to my bed. I think we’d both enjoy that. Don’t you?”
Tied up.
I don’t like being tied up and with reason, and yet, I’m not telling him no. “I’m claustrophobic. I don’t do well when tied up.”
He winks. “I’ll keep your mind on my tongue and my fingers. Think about your pizza order. I’ll be right back.” He stands up and it’s then that I realize that he hasn’t even undressed.
I sit up and grab a blanket behind me, pulling it around me. Gabe walks to the bar, tosses the condom in what I assume is a trashcan and then walks toward me, that lion tattoo drawing my gaze, telling a story I’d like to understand but will probably never know. He didn’t even take his pants off. He’s not going to tell me about his mother.
He sits down next to me. “There’s a pizza joint I love around the corner. Frank’s. Ever tried it?”
I pull the blanket tighter around me. “No. I haven’t.”
“Well then, you’re in for a treat. What do you like on your pizza?”
“Cheese. I’m simple like that.”
“Cheese it is, then.” He grabs his phone and punches in a number. “Hey, Frank. A large pizza, half pepperoni and half cheese.” He listens a minute and looks at me. “I’m living on the wild side tonight.”
The wild side.
And he didn’t even take off his pants.
I cut my gaze and will myself to stop thinking about this. Why is this bothering me so badly? Why? I don’t know, but I want my clothes. I try to stand up and Gabe catches my arm. “Thanks, Frank,” he says, ending his call and setting his phone on the table. “What’s wrong? What just happened?”
“I want to get dressed before the pizza gets here.”
His eyes sharpen on my face. “You regret being here.”
“No,” I say quickly. “I don’t. I just—” I stop again, not sure what to say. I don’t like lies and he’s now arching a brow.
“You didn’t even take your pants off,” I say. “That feels weird.”
“I didn’t take my pants off,” he repeats.
“Yes. It feels weird. I want to get dressed and then maybe it will stop feeling weird.”
“I have a better idea,” he says and he stands up and the next thing I know, he’s lowering his pants and stepping out of them. He tosses them on the couch beside him and then presents himself to me in a pair of black biker-style underwear that hug his thighs, and other important parts of his body, rather nicely. “How’s this?” he asks, holding his hands out to his sides. “No more pants.”
I start laughing. “I can’t believe you just did that.”
“Believe it, sweetheart. Of course, I might shock the pizza delivery person, but it’ll be worth it.”
“Worth it? Worth it how?”
“Because now you won’t feel weird when I do this.” He sits down next to me, pulls me to him and drags us down on the couch, leaving my blanket behind, my naked body pressed to his. His hand between my shoulder blades, molding my naked breasts to his chest. “Do you feel weird?”
“No,” I say, feeling warm and wonderful instead. “But what about the pizza?”
He shifts us, rolling us to our sides, his hands sliding under my hair to my neck. “We’ll just make out like school kids until it gets here. We’ll fuck later. After we eat and you tell me all your secrets.”
My secrets.
He doesn’t really want to know my secrets.
I don’t really want him to know my secrets.
I decide to kiss him before he doesn’t want to kiss me again. I press my lips to his, letting him know that I’m all in. Let’s make out like school kids.