I pulled her to me in a violent tangle of lips and limbs, consuming her gasps and sighs as she fell apart around me. She cried my name into my mouth and it dripped like whiskey into my gut, warm and empowering. The taste of Abigail Crowne’s utter and complete vulnerability, a secret flavor no one had ever known, ignited a possessive need.
A protective urge.
I held her tighter, even as her nails dug into my shoulder, even as she bit my lip bloody. I would carry the marks proudly, the scars of a secret only I know.
Only I would ever know.
My sweet girl was a meteor shower when she came, a blinding, life-changing, divine experience.
When Abigail came back down to earth, she smiled. Fucking smiled. Her nose crinkled with it and I saw a little bit of her pink gums.
I rubbed her smile with my thumb. “Look at that smile.”
She buried her face in my chest, and I laughed, stroking her hair. “Fuck, I like this side of you. If I’d known all this time I could’ve been fucking the sweet into you…”
I memorized her with my touch. From the slope of her shoulder, down her spine, to the bone at her ass, over the curves of her ass and back up again to her hair. I hadn’t stopped touching her, learning her. She has a small birthmark on her ass, and her goose bumps were small, like her.
Part of me knew it was because I didn’t know the moment this would end.
Abigail lifted her head, and I kept my fingers in her hair. Her own found mine, running through the strands.
A wrinkle formed on her brow. I rubbed it with my thumb. “That’s not the face you should have right now.”
“I’m worried you’re going to go away,” she admitted, voice too dark, too serious. “I’m worried all of this is going to disappear.”
I dropped my thumb from her brow, trailing my knuckles along her cheek, and joked, “Worried you’re going to lose your dog?”
The wrinkle deepened. “Yes.”
I paused.
I realized just how fucking much I’d been vulnerable. Instinct had me itching to get up and leave, but her eyes were open and watching me with so much affection it anchored me. I wanted to know everything in her head that made her look at me like that. I never wanted her to stop running her fingers through my fucking hair.
“What are you thinking?” she whispered.
I traced her lips, from corner to center. “All the dirty words your pretty lips are going to say.”
A shaky smile speared her lips, and she lay on my chest. “I like this side of you too,” she whispered.
I don’t know how long we were like that, her on my chest, me stroking her hair. It was an intimacy I’d never known.
“Spoiled rotten Abigail Crowne has a sweet pussy,” I mused, her silky brown strands of hair falling through my fingers.
By the way she stiffened, I could tell she wasn’t sure if she’d heard me correctly. I should’ve probably let her rest, but shit, she did have the sweetest pussy, and I never came. I was still hard.
I lowered my lips to her ear, dropping my voice. “You have the sweetest pussy, Abigail. Makes putting up with all your bullshit almost worth it.”
Her swallow was audible, and to me, that was a fucking invitation. I fisted her hair, pulling her head to the side, exposing her neck.
“Admit it.” I licked a trail along the muscle of her creamy throat, back up to her ear. “Tell me all about your sweet pussy, Abigail Crowne.”
“I-I…” Abigail stuttered in a way I was growing addicted to.
With my free hand, I thrust two fingers up inside her, before removing them in the same breath and shoving them into her mouth.
Gagging her.
She swallowed my fingers eagerly. Her nails dug into my shoulder, her other hand anchored on my hip. Having Abigail splayed and twisted across