Wreck (Sphere of Irony 4) - Page 34

Our mouths crash together once more, tasting, exploring, remembering… Abby groans and shifts on my lap, and I tear my mouth away. The friction on my cock is nearly too much to bear, especially with the near painful restriction of my jeans.

I’m so turned on, I’m gasping for air. “I need to put out the fire.”

Abby leans back, practically panting as she shifts on top of me, dragging a low moan from my throat. Her eyes dart around and land on a large glass of water. She grabs the glass and tosses the liquid on the fire. The flames hiss and crack, and thankfully, die out almost immediately.

Abby’s heels dig in behind my back and her arms wind around my neck. When she pushes down on my lap again, torturing my cock with a long, slow rub, I lose my mind. My mind is wiped of everything except the need to get inside her as soon as possible. I grip Abby’s ass and stand with her wrapped around my body. She gives me a wicked grin and I laugh. This is exactly what she wanted, to drive me crazy until I lost control.

Playing with my insane need to claim her, pushing my limits—she always did know how to wrap me right around her little finger.

Pushing away any negative thoughts of waking up tomorrow with regrets, I lower my mouth to hers and carry her inside the house while exchanging wet, sloppy kisses.

When I lie her down on the guest bed, Abby whispers into the crook of my neck, her hot breath gusting over my skin. “Henry.” Hearing my name come from her lips sends intense tremors zapping through every nerve in my body. Abby is the only person in my life who ever uses my given name, and she only used to say it when we were making love.

Is that what we’re doing? Making love?

Before I can get wrapped up in my thoughts, Abby traces her short fingernails around either side of my face, sliding them up into my scalp. She digs them into the hair at my temples, scratching those tempting fingers down to the back of my head, leaving a trail of goose bumps behind.

I lie on top of Abby, pushing her down to settle my body between her legs on the bed. “You smell so fucking good.” I bury my nose in her hair and inhale deeply, reveling in the familiar scent. “Like the beach. Always like the beach.”

Her wicked hands skate down my back, where Abby grips the hem of my shirt. I sit back on my knees and strip the fabric off. “Now you.” I reach out, tugging the tight Sphere of Irony T-shirt she borrowed from Kate over her head.

I suck in a breath, gently tracing the scalloped edge of her satiny bra. “Blue. My favorite color,” I murmur.

Abby flicks her gaze up to meet mine. Her tongue darts out to wet her red, swollen lips. “I know.”

My heart stutters, then restarts, pounding hard against my ribcage. Did she wear blue on purpose? Was she planning for me to see the lacy undergarments?

“Henry, stop thinking and get down here.” Abby reaches up and grabs me by the shoulders, pulling me back on top of her. She looks just as good as she did in college, tall, tan, toned… her wavy blonde hair still long and currently spread out like a halo on the dark pillowcase. A deep rosy color stains her high cheekbones and the soft curve of her throat.

“Gorgeous,” I moan, touching every available inch of exposed skin. When I lick a path down to her collarbone, her back arches up off the bed.

Beneath my mouth, I feel Abby’s pulse pick up speed as I nip along her neck to her ear. Remembering a sensitive spot of hers, I plunge my tongue in her ear and she goes wild.

“Get undressed,” she demands, her breath fast and shallow as her hands attempt to work my belt loose from between us. I slide off the bed and watch Abby strip. She removes her skintight pants, tossing them to the floor.

When she sheds her remaining clothes, I’m so desperate for friction, I palm my hard cock through my jeans. “Fuck.”

“Now you.” Her voice is husky, laced with desire, her pupils so wide the blue of her eyes is barely visible. She sounds as if she spent the night screaming herself hoarse, something I hope I can say is true by tomorrow.

Abby’s eyes lock onto my hands as I undress. First, I remove my glasses, still able to see clearly since they aren’t a prescription but a part of my armor. I rub my palms down my naked chest and abs, fingering the waistband of my pants as she watches, entranced.

“Hurry. I need you.”

I clench my jaw and mutter a string of curses, but somehow manage to stay in control. Slowly, I pull my belt out of the loops and let the strip of leather and metal buckle clatter to the floor. I flip open the button on my jeans and lower the zipper. The sound of each tooth releasing is magnified, seemingly as loud as my heavy breathing.

“You have new tattoos.” Abby’s hand glides down her body, stopping between her thighs. She moans and pushes a finger into her slick channel, then pulls it out to draw damp circles on her clit.

“Holy fuck.” My mouth falls open and my own hand finds my rock-hard dick, wrapping around it to begin fisting the length.

Abby pushes two fingers in and groans, writhing on the bed wantonly. That, and the fact that my balls are already tightening, pleasure quickly growing to a crescendo, snaps me out of my daze. I let go of my dick and grab a condom from my wallet, quickly rolling it on, praying I don’t shoot in my own hand before I even get inside Abby’s tight heat.

I climb back on the bed, positioning my cock at her entrance. Our eyes lock as I sink in, and mine nearly roll back in my head at the feel of her body gripping mine.

“Jesus Christ, Bee.” The pet name I used to call her slips out of my mouth without thinking. My brain has officially detached from my mouth. Impatient, Abby raises her hips, forcing my entire length all the way in. “Ohmygod… holy…” I drop my head into the crook of her neck and squeeze my eyes shut.

Don’t come, don’t come.

“Henry, please. Move.” Abby’s hands run up and down my back, settling on my ass, where she digs her fingernails into the hard muscles.

Tags: Heather C. Leigh Sphere of Irony Romance
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