We went back to the sound of the waves and Tansy’s ice clinking as her attendants poured her a drink.
I bent down, face blank, acting like I had some very important bodyguard business to tell Abigail.
“Truth or promise, Abigail?” I stared forward at the waves.
“Now?” she stage-whispered, looking over her shoulder at her family. “Truth…”
“If I were to slide my hand between your thighs, how fucking wet would you be?”
Her breath seized.
Gray opened an eye, but it looked like I was completely detached, eyes on the horizon. Gray closed his eyes, lowering his arm once more. I looked back at Abigail.
“Show me. Lift up your swimsuit.”
“My family…” But Abigail was already trailing her fingers down to the ribbed pale blue hem of her swimsuit bottoms. She lifted the hem just so, and I stifled my groan.
“You can’t help it, can you?” I said, low and quiet. “You’re so fucking wet.”
Her fingers shivered, her breath halting—nervous. I loved getting Abigail nervous as much as I loved shocking her. She got high off the nerves; the fear was adrenaline. In Abigail’s world, there wasn’t much to be nervous or afraid of. They had everything, were above the law—it bred comfort and boredom.
I leaned in, my breath licking her ear. “If I asked you to finger yourself right now, would you?”
“Don’t,” she pleaded.
Making sure to keep my posture casual and give nothing away from behind, I leaned forward and bit her earlobe. Her finger dropped, spreading herself as if unconsciously. That image is going to be burned in my goddamn retinas, Abigail giving in, fingering herself in front of her family.
Then a second later, she shot up.
I followed suit, standing casually to my feet, crossing my arms in front so my hands hung over my dick.
Abigail ruffled her hair, cheeks red. “I’ll get you your gum, Gray.”
“What gum?” Gray mumbled, but Abigail was practically running to the main house. I caught up with her just inside the foyer.
Her glare was on me. That fucking Abigail Crowne glare. It shouldn’t turn me on so much.
I pushed her against the door on a laugh, bending down until I was eye to eye with her swimsuit bottoms. I peeled aside the blue material. She was perfect. Naked. Bare. Wet.
I found her eyes. “Fuck, Abigail, when was the last time someone ate you out?”
Her eyelids fluttered. “S-Stop tormenting me.”
“Tormenting?” I laughed. “This is torment?”
Eyes still locked, I took one slow lick from the bottom of her slit to the top. Her mouth parted, eyes stuck on me.
I sucked her lips slowly until she shuddered, tasting the image that had tormented me. A taste I hadn’t been able to get out of my fucking head since the Swan Swell. Now it was a font I could drown in.
Abigail was ambrosia. She was sunscreen and cocoa butter and her. A taste I wouldn’t ever get off my tongue.
I tongue fucked her, ate her, consumed her, watching her disappear to ecstasy. She bit her lip raw, her eyes grew hazy, and goose bumps peppered her flesh. I could hear her family just outside the door. I didn’t give a shit, spurred on by her taste. She didn’t seem to mind either.
“My little attention whore,” I said, sucking her clit harsh enough to draw a gasp. “Do you want to be caught?”
Her hands found my shoulders, nails digging. “Don’t stop.”
At her words, though it killed me, I tore myself from her. I stood up and took a step back. Her swimsuit was torn to the side, messed up in the most distracting of ways, showing too much of her pussy and not enough at once. She looked at me with hazy, confused eyes.