That boy will be your downfall.
I jerk awake at my dad’s voice ringing in my ears. For a second, I feel empty, bereft, like I’ve been sleeping with sadness wrapped around my body instead of a blanket.
But then everything rushes back. The rain, the running, Abel’s proposal, the drive, the wind in my hair, the highway. New York.
We’re safe. We’re in New York. And I’m sleeping next to the boy I love.
His arm is thrown over my waist, almost flattening me to the bed. Oh wait, we only have a mattress. His bronzed fingers are super close to my breasts. Actually, his thumb is touching my nipple that now stands to attention. My back is flush with his chest – naked chest – and his big thigh is wedged between my legs.
I’m sweating with my own personal heater at my spine. Well, what else can you expect when you sleep with the sun? The window right above us doesn’t have curtains or bars like my old window, so I can see pieces of the sky. It’s pink and purple with dawn a few minutes away.
Biting my lip, I wiggle my butt and feel his dick jerk. Abel hums but doesn’t wake up. He must be dead tired. After an early dinner last night, we both crashed. I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow and I guess he did too. The events of the last forty-eight hours had sucked us dry.
Slowly, I turn around in his arms and face him. I watch him with wonder. So, this is what Abel looks like first thing in the morning: his messy hair sticking up; that silver chain, flung to the side, resting on his pillow; the stubble; his pink lips slightly parted. The only unusual occurrence is the colored, misshapen bruises.
We were just playing with each other. Abel was only taking photos and I was willing. He wasn’t hurting anyone. He’s been evasive but I think they were rough with him in the jail. I think the only reason they kept him in there was to scare him away. To show that they were more powerful than him, than us.
I touch his bruises, gingerly, carefully, trying to not add any additional pain. His stubble is scratchy against my skin, ticklish but with a sharp edge. My fingers travel down to his hard jaw, the line of his throat, over the bump of his Adam’s apple.
“You’re beautiful.”
My eyes whip up at the sound of his sleepy whisper. “I’m sorry, did I wake you? I didn’t mean to.”
“If you weren’t trying to wake me then you shouldn’t have touched me.”
I laugh softly. “What, are you my own sleeping prince now? I touch you and you wake from slumber?”
I don’t know how he does it but even first thing in the morning with the cobwebs of sleep hanging over us, he throws me his perfect typical smirk. “I think you’re forgetting the story, Pixie.”
“Really?”
“Uh-huh.” He stretches, all muscular and sexy-like, and props his head on his hand, looking down at me with a wicked glint in his eyes. “You gotta kiss the prince to wake him up.”
I shake my head, smiling and slide closer to him, and kiss his chin. “Here. Are you fully awake now?”
“Not the kind of kiss I had in mind. Not in the area I had in mind either. Maybe try going lower. A lot lower.”
He nudges my stomach with his dick, which feels like the hardest thing ever. Hardest and biggest thing I’ve ever felt. “You’re such a…”
Abel laughs, grabbing my hands and turning me on my back. He finds a home in between my thighs, making me realize I’m only wearing my thin nightshirt with sunflowers on it, and he’s only wearing a pair of black boxers.
“I’m such a what?” He bumps my nose with his.
“Such a gentleman.” I roll my eyes.
“Damn it. I need to up my game. My Pixie doesn’t like gentlemen.”
“She does, too.”
That makes him laugh harder. “She wishes. My dirty talk gets her hot, though.”
When he’s laughing like this, I can’t even pretend to be mad at him. I can’t look away either. God. God. He’s so sexy, and so mine.
“I can’t believe I’m waking up next to you.”
His jaw clenches as his eyes fill with emotions. “Believe it, baby. This is our life now. You and me. Together.”
I finger the edges of a yellow bruise on his jaw as love for him surges within me. Love and lust and an innate need to please. Like a woman pleases her man. A queen pleases her king. I want to somehow thank him, make him see that he’s the most powerful man on this Earth. “I want you to take,” I whisper, heart in my throat, on my tongue.
He frowns for a second before the confusion clears and he understands what I mean. If my parents hadn’t shown up that night, I would’ve slept with him. I would’ve given him the last piece of my soul.
I want to do that now. This is our new life and I want to start it right.
His eyes turn dark, like they do when lust is ruling him. Dark and delicious and bottomless, and his skin turns even more heated, like the blood is rushing, burning through his veins at a breakneck speed.
So, I’m surprised that he tries to move away. I don’t let him though. I hug him with my thighs and cross my ankles at his back, keeping him glued to me.
“Pixie, stop.”
“No.” I arch my hips and practically shove my slick, slick core onto his hard cock.
Damn it. I wish I wasn’t wearing panties so he could feel how wet I am. As it is, I’m rubbing my covered pussy up and down the outline of his erection, hoping and praying that he understands that it is for him. All this wetness and creaminess; it’s his for the taking.
“I’m not gonna fuck you, all right?” He strains against my hold, but I latch all my limbs around him.
“Why not?”
“Because.”
“That’s not an answer.” I clutch his silver cross and yank him even closer. “Tell me why.”
Abel stares at me with fight in his eyes, but then sags, the tension leaving his body. “I’m not gonna fuck you the first morning we’re together in New York.”
Okay, that sounds ridiculous to me because no one is going to come and interrupt us anymore. We can do whatever we want, right? I ask again, “Why not? We’re here. I’m ready. Why won’t you?”
“Isn’t it obvious? I’ve already taken too much. I took you from your parents’ house and brought you here. To this strange place with thin fucking walls. You’re sleeping on the floor. I can’t… I can’t take your virginity too. Not until we get a decent place, a bed. I don’t even have a job right now. I’ve got some money saved up but I need to know that I can take care of you. That I can provide. You’re mine now, Pixie.” He fists my hair. “It’s like I’ve been fucking dying to call you mine and now that you are, I’m terrified. What if I can’t keep you? What if I’m not a good husband?”
“Okay, first: I chose to come with you. I chose you.” I grit my teeth, hugging him tighter. “Second: you’re going to have a job tomorrow. They’re going to love you over there. You’re so talented, Abel. Your pictures are amazing. And who cares where we live for a while? Yeah, there’s sex noises and a weird mirror fetish but trust me, okay? It doesn’t matter. And third…” I raise my eyebrows. “I’m not the only virgin in this room. You may be theoretically prepared after watching your videos and whatnot. But everyone knows practical knowledge goes a long way. Maybe you’re afraid to disappoint me, but that’s okay. I’ll understand.”
His muscles ripple under my touch as he stares down at me with pure arrogance. “Oh, you’ll understand, will you?”
It worked. Ah, guys and their big egos. I should remember this for future reference. But for now, I’m happy that the black shadow on his face is gone. I can’t see him dejected.
“Uh-huh.” I throw him a sweet smile, playing along. “So you have nothing to worry about. You’ve always left me satisfied before. I’m sure you’ll do a good job now, too.”
He chuckles, his fist going really tight in my hair. “You’ve done it now, baby.”
I arch my hips, feeling oddly happy and satisfied. “What have I done?”
“So, my Pixie’s a cock-tease and she loves to poke a bear, is that right?”
“Maybe.” I shrug. “But only because I know my bear’s hungry.”
He takes my mouth in a kiss. A big, wet kiss. With every brush of our tongues, the kiss turns wilder. Our mouths smack against each other, our teeth clack. It must be hurting his bruised lip but he doesn’t seem to care. His tongue invades my mouth, stroking and flicking, riding a wave, making me moan.
My moans are music to his ears; he turns restless and hungry and growly. His hands tug and pull at my nightshirt, trying to get it off but instead, straining the fabric against my flesh, like he can’t imagine letting my mouth go to rid my body of clothes. Like the kiss is too important and my clothes can go fuck themselves. I would have laughed if I didn’t think the same.
My barely-there nails drag across the expanse of his back. Now I get why girls are crazy for manicures and long, sexy nails. I could’ve decorated his back with scratches. Love-wounds.
When the lack of air becomes a problem, his lips slide down, wet and warm. He’s sucking on my neck, taking the skin in between his teeth, vacuuming it inside his mouth. It stings and all my blood rushes to the spot, making it throb. I open my mouth to tell him to stop. My mom will see it.
But then I realize that I’m not back home anymore. I’m here. I keep forgetting that I’m free. Despite the pain in my neck, I smile at the water-stained ceiling, baring my throat to his teeth. He sucks and sucks until my thighs quiver around his waist, then he lets go before licking the skin with his hot tongue.
“You’re wearing my mark now, Pixie. Now the whole world will know you belong to me,” he rasps.
“Abel…” My hips come off the bed and grind into his erection, making him shudder. “Now.”
He lifts his head and looks at me with drowsy, lust-filled eyes. “So bossy.”
I clutch his hair, whining his name.
Amused, he shakes off my puny hold and crawls down my body. He reaches my stomach and my thighs have to part even more to fit the breadth of his shoulders. It’s a wonder I’m not ashamed of this position, spread thighs, hitched-up clothes, panties — wet panties — on display. A week ago I would’ve been, but after that night, after witnessing his longing on paper, after realizing my own desires and posing for him naked, I’m not. I can never be. Not with my Abel.
His rough hands bunch my nightdress even more, sliding it up until I’m naked from the waist down save for the very wet, very white panties. His eyes are pinned to them and his lips quirk up. He brings one hand away from my thighs and flicks the seam of my underwear around my waist, stopping at the tiny flower in the middle. “You’ve got a daisy on your pussy.”
I have a thing for flowered underwear; he knows that. He’s seen a few back in school and he never fails to remind me how adorable he finds it. I wish I wasn’t so aroused so I could narrow my eyes at his smiling ones, like I usually do. As it is, I settle for a muttered shut up, which makes him smile even more. He leans over and presses a kiss on the flower.
That… he hasn’t done before and I jump a little.
Then, he tugs the elastic of my panties down, down and down, until they are gone and my sex is bared. Air brushes against my wet curls and even wetter core, making it clench, and he witnesses all of that as the sun climbs up the sky.
Hungry and horny, Abel kneels in between my thighs and forces them even farther away, until I’m almost doing a split, feeling the pressure in my muscles and gripping the sheets. He stares at my core like he’ll never get to see it again, and I stare up at him.
The other night, things happened too fast. I didn’t take the time to study him. But now I do. I’ll use my entire lifetime to study him, commit his body to memory so when I die, I’ll see him flash before my eyes.
I start at his neck, graceful and stubbly with tight veins and an Adam’s apple. One of these days, I’m going to lick it, learn its taste. His shoulders are made of bulging muscles, tight waves of strength that go down to his biceps and his forearms.
His silver necklace reaches down to his chest, sitting warm and sexy, swaying slightly with his breaths. The arches of his pecs are tight and sculpted with bronzed skin that I want to track and map with my nails. Just like the ridges of his abs. The slight sprinkle of his chest hair makes me want to nuzzle my nose in it, before tucking it in the triangle of his throat.
I swallow when my eyes reach down to the slightly darker curls that trail and disappear down his boxer shorts. Holy cow, his dick is tenting that fabric something fierce. There’s a whole mountain down there. I’m probably not the only girl to think this but… how is it ever going to fit inside me?
“I need to taste your cherry before I take it,” he murmurs, bending down, his silver cross oscillating from his movements and hitting my cleft.
“Oh, God…” I moan, jerking as if electrocuted.
That was so sacrilegious. So sinful and wrong but so fucking right.
But I have no time to think about it because Abel takes a whiff. A long whiff of my slit and my brain freezes. He hums at the smell and I swear I feel those vibrations right up in my stomach.
“Abel, stop. That’s gross.”
He nuzzles his nose on the outside of my hole, making my butt grind against the bed. “You should’ve thought of that before, Pixie.” He smells my pussy again and looks up at me, rubbing his stubbled chin across my swollen lips. “I’m not stopping now, not until I have you gushing on my tongue. Let’s see if I can put my theoretical skills to good use.”
I gulp at the clear lust in his eyes. He’s gone all dark and flushed. Even though he’s lying down on his chest, his face almost buried between my legs, he looks larger than me, this bed, this room even.
His first lick is hot and it almost sends me off to the roof. It’s a good thing I can’t even move because Abel is holding me down. My hands go to his shoulders and I hold on to his rippling muscles. The flat of his tongue sweeps from bottom to top as he tastes my juices. He’s greedy in his licks. They are big and wide and span my entire core, and every time my taste hits his tongue he grunts.
God, those sounds make me as wild as his lapping tongue. He’s really eating me up, like I’m a delicacy or a food he’s tasting for the first time. But he isn’t shy about it. He isn’t taking short, unsure licks. He’s ravenous. Starving. A man walking in the desert for so long that every atom inside his body craves water. You can’t ask him to go slow. You can’t torture him by giving him one sip at a time, even if drinking it all in one go will make him sick. So I open my legs even more, the unused muscles in my thighs, my butt even, string up tight. And I press my core into his mouth.
Abel goes crazy then. He licks, almost slaps my pussy with his tongue, as if he’s mad at her. His thumbs press on both sides of my lips, plumping them up until he fits them in his mouth.
“Oh God… I…”
That’s so dirty and rude and obscene. I don’t have any more words for this. Who does this? Cramming my entire pussy inside his mouth, sucking it up?
Even as I think that, my tummy is tightening, the buzzing inside me morphing into something big. I loll my head back and forth on the pillow, tugging on his hair or scratching his shoulders, whatever I can get my hands on.
I think I can’t take it anymore. I think that I’ll be dead in the next five seconds. But no. What I’ve been feeling is nothing compared to what I feel right now, this second when Abel turns his attention to that little button at the top. My clit. He bites it and I scream. His short laugh echoes in the room.
Abel soothes the sting with his tongue before doing it again. This time I muffle my scream in the pillow and when I open my eyes, I’m looking at myself.
Oh shit.
I forgot about the mirror. It stands adjacent to the bed, all tall and big and I can see myself and Abel’s golden head in it. I can see my hair tangled up and snarly, fanned around. My nightshirt is half open, revealing the tops of my breasts, flushed red and heaving. I watch my hands in his hair, pushing him away, pulling him close. My thighs are spread open and shaking, one flung over his naked shoulder, the other going right to the end of the mattress.
Abel’s head is moving, up and down, side to side. It’s filthy. It’s how I’ve seen animals eat their food, with abandon, or maybe people in ancient times. The very first man might have eaten his food this way. He must have found it on the ground and fallen on it. Then he must have licked and lapped and swallowed it whole, without using his hands.
But did he grind his pelvis on the earth? Did he fuck the ground in rapture at finally tasting something so good?
No. I don’t think so. I don’t think anyone has done what Abel is doing right now. He’s so aroused, so into it that he’s humping the bed. I can see his tight butt moving, grinding into the mattress.
The image drives me crazy. So crazy that I’m on the verge of an orgasm. Only this one is going to be big, explosive.
“Abel…” I moan high, probably sounding like the couple next door.
Then, I feel a pinch and a curse. “Fuck yeah.”
The pinch grows and I realize Abel is cramming his finger – two fingers, three – inside my wet, steaming core and that’s it. That’s when the game is over and I fall. And what a glorious fall it is. My thighs are quaking while my stomach is all taut and tight, and I’m arched toward the roof. My breasts point heavenward, while he curses into my rippling channel and I chant his name over and over. If this isn’t religion, then I don’t know what is. If this isn’t the purest thing, then I don’t want to live in this world.
I come back down to earth and feel the mattress on my sweaty back when Abel emerges. His mouth is all wet, lips shining with my arousal. He’s panting. Every breath releases a growl. His eyes are all dark now. Black and void of every emotion but lust. Kind of like the eyes of a demon. A shiver runs through me at the state he’s in right now.
He stands over me and strips his shorts off. All I can do is watch him and writhe on the bed when his dick comes into view.
Oh, sweet baby Jesus.
It’s big. I knew it would be. I knew it. But still. It’s crowned with an angry color and there’s a vein running on the underside of it. The entire shade of his cock is dusky and angry and painful-looking. Abel grips the base, pumps it up and down, then pinches the top, groaning with his head thrown back.
When he opens his eyes, he whispers, “I have to do this. Or I’ll die, Pixie.”
He falls to his knees again, and my hand goes out to touch his chest. Oh God, he’s burning up, his heart beating wildly. I soothe it with my hand, run my palm in circles, and he shudders. The hand gripping his cock begins to move, jerk up and down, rapidly, until all I see is a blur.
“You’re right in front of me and I’m so fucking sick that I can’t wait,” he pants.
Why is this so arousing? His need for me, his desperation.
I get up then and take my useless nightshirt off before lying back down. All I want is for him to come and I want to help him, maybe offer my body for his cum to land on. I press my hands where I’m needy the most, where I know he’ll love seeing them the most, like the pictures he drew and the photos he took: my still-pulsing sex and my boobs. With one hand, I cup my pussy and with the other, I palm one creamy mound. I moan at how good it feels. My breasts are so sore, all swollen and heavy and sensitive, and my core is still shooting out tiny waves of orgasm.
It’s too much for my Abel. The shameful picture I make. With one last pump of his dick, he comes. A string of curses escapes his lips as frothy cum shoots out of his shaft, splashing over my naked body: my breasts, my throat, my stomach. It’s hot and sticky, and it has a distinct musky smell.
He comes and comes until he sags, as much as he can with that hard body. He opens his eyes and looks at me. I give him a tiny smile and run my fingers along the trails of the cream he lashed on me. I want to taste it, and I do. I swirl my finger in it and pop it in my mouth. Spicy flavor explodes on my tongue and I moan, closing my eyes, feeling sleepy and satisfied.
Now I’m complete. Now I can maybe rest a little before giving myself to him.
“Fuck me, you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he says in awe and I have to laugh. I’m not that beautiful. It’s Abel who makes me that.
I hold my arms open and he fits himself over my body before kissing me. We kiss for a long time, languid and lazy kisses. Open-mouthed and wet. I feel like this is how people kiss on Sundays, taking their time, on a bed, not in any hurry to go to church and confess their sins. Because the kisses have already absolved them of all the sins they’ve committed. Wet kisses have baptized them all, somehow.
That’s how I drift off to sleep this Sunday morning. Baptized and absolved of all my sins.