“This is a terrible idea,” Abby argues with her arms folded firmly across her full chest.
I turn on my signal to switch lanes. “Angel, you have said that to me approximately ten times over the past six weeks, including when I showed up on Valentine’s Day with roses, chocolates, and all the ingredients to cook you a romantic dinner.”
“You set my kitchen on fire.”
“Just the pan.”
The heat was a little too high, plus I was a little sidetracked with being able to see the outline of the thong she was wearing with her white skirt. Her ass is already something I need a shock collar around my neck to prevent me from constantly trying to touch, but then she squeezed it into this skin-tight skirt and my nuts turned purple. Purple! As much as I am enjoying all the things we do outside the bedroom, I swear I’m starting to chafe from the constant self-jerking. But I won’t rush her. I actually really like Abby. She’s unique. Watching her discover so many of the things in life I don’t think twice about appreciating swells my heart. Over the past six weeks, we’ve done an array of random dates, all of which have been filled with such joy I wonder if I could’ve ever had more of this at some point in my life if I wasn’t so focused on just getting women off. Abby and I have had coffee dates where we pick different flavors for the other one to try. Watching me gag on an Espresso Con Panna brought her to tears from laughing so hard. And it was completely worth it to hear her laugh so freely. We’ve gone cello case shopping, though it resulted in me almost getting whipped with a bow for not knowing that’s what the stick thing was called. We’ve also hosted a ‘Tiny Dancer Dance Party’ at Big Foot’s when we babysat the boys, went to a musical where we fought about Raisinets, and had a picnic in the downtown park along with Ford, Ollie, and their pet hog. Most of our time together is carved out around her rehearsal schedule, which isn’t a problem since mine at the company is quite flexible. The cello always comes first for her. In the beginning, it silently pissed me off I had to fight for time with her over an instrument, but after hearing her play, after experiencing the passion that flows out of her while she does, I willingly surrendered. When she plays it’s as if you’re swept away to another world. A celestial one. A world so serene and so beautiful there’s comfort in the fact nothing other than her music exists. The first time I heard her play it was surreal. It sounded like an oblation only meant to be given to God. Then there was her. Everything from Abby’s expression to the placidity she clearly felt was mind blowing. She’s been committed to the cello since she was five and it shows. I’m learning my goal isn’t to try to tear them apart. It’s simply to allow her to find the pleasure in things she’s denied herself for the sake of her music.
“Tonight’s gonna be fun,” I try to reassure. “There’ll be music-”
“Country music, which I still don’t know enough about.”
“Not true. You know more than you’re giving yourself credit for.”
“I appreciate your attempt at boosting my confidence, but I detest false praise.”
I cut her a glance. “You know my two favorites.”
“Tim McCaw-”
“McGraw.”
“Who came onto the country music scene in the early 90’s and has more recently taken roles in movies like The Blind Side-”
“Which you loved despite your…constant confusion about football terms.”
She knows even less about sports than Oliver. And that’s impressive considering he mixes up the basic terminology like screaming penalty when he should be shouting foul.
“And your other, more recent favorite is Rascally Cats.”
“Rascal Flats.”
Abby humphs at her mispronunciation of both words.
Perfectionist some days would be the sweeter way to describe it. It’s one reason I hate for her to cook. She’s not above rehearsing the making of our meals before I actually come over. It’d be a bigger problem if the food went to waste, but whatever I don’t finish, I take with me and toss it back for lunch.
“There will also be beer-”
“I don’t drink.”
“Yes, but they have this non-alcoholic vanilla root beer that is fucking incredible. Pop used to buy us cases of it as kids.”
Her face slowly turns to mine. “I’ve never had root beer.”
“This I know, which is why I wanted the first time you had to be the best there is.”
She offers me a small smile.
From what I’ve gathered about her parents, they have to be the most boring, most horrible parents on the planet. Who doesn’t let their kids have sodas or sugars…ever? Who denies their children for the entire span of their adolescence the right to fun? Abby didn’t have a childhood filled with laughs or imagination. She was basically at military school until college where Dana, dear, sweet, thank you for pushing us together Dana, helped carve away some of her shell. I don’t mind doing the rest. I actually love it. Watching her discover there are awkward comedy shows she can relate to and learn to laugh at herself more than criticize, is intoxicating. Those are the moments that push our lack of sexual progression to the bottom of the list of things to care about. Hate to say it, and refuse to say it out loud, but my mother was right. Letting someone see who I really am while I get to see who they really are is much better than I thought it would be.
Finally, I take our exit off the highway. My eyes catch another glimpse of her face that has yet to master the art of lying.
What she’s thinking is always clear as day. She’s incapable of hiding her hatred or her excitement. Most importantly, she’s incapable of hiding how turned on I constantly make her. Just because we’re not acting on it yet doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy knowing she wants us to or that I still have the skills I have prided myself on for over a decade.
“Relax, Angel.” I stretch my hand to fold with hers. “It’ll be fun. They’ve got great food. There’s pool and darts. There’s the mechanical bull I can’t wait to see you on...”
Her head snaps my direction. “Excuse me?”
A mischievous smile crosses my lips.
“I’m not riding a mechanical bull, Tiny Dancer.”
The unusual nickname receives an eye roll. “Yes, you are.”
“No. I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.”
“Not a chance in hell.”
We pull up to a stop light, and I present her with a cocky grin. “I will bet me seeing you in nothing but that bright red lacey thong you’re wearing, that you will.”
She glares. “Really? You want our first time together to be the bases for a bet?”
“Never said anything about our first time together, Angel.”
Her glower deepens.
“Just because I see you almost naked doesn’t mean we’re going to have sex.”
It should mean that. It’s always meant that in the past…
Abby slowly shakes her head, which is when I add, “Besides, if you are so convinced you won’t be riding it, where’s the harm in making a little wager that you will?”
“You’re an asshole.”
I grin wider.
When she reverts to name calling it means her levels of frustration and fascination with me are colliding in the most furious ways.
“Fine,” she snips. “If I ride the stupid mechanical bull, which I won’t-”
“You will.”
“If that happens, you can see me in nothing but my panties. However, when I don’t you have to sit through the Classical music documentary I discovered on Hulu yesterday.”
A loud groan of disapproval joins the conversation.
Sure. Classical music has definitely grown on me, but an entire special on it? No. No thank you. The stakes are now too high.
I cut Abby another glance just as she slowly wets her lips.
Fuck, I love her mouth. Every. Inch. We may be stuck in the serious tongue fucking phase, but it’s hardly anything to complain about. She enjoys hours of simply being pressed against me and letting our mouths explore everything possible. She’s also discovered the hot spot on my neck and right underneath my jaw bone line. Constantly being brought to the edge from having her mimic sucking my cock on my neck has me debating on visiting the doctor for a pill to assist in my newly established celibacy. I’ve kissed a shit ton of women in my life, but never one so hell bent on making me come from a few well-placed sucks on my bottom lip and well timed grinds against my crotch.
Impulsively, I agree, “Deal.”
She gives me a premature victorious sneer.
Oh she’s getting her ass on that mechanical bull. Never said she had to do it voluntarily.
Once we arrive at the hole in the wall country themed bar, the two of us immediately hop out of my truck and head for the front entrance, which is painted like old saloon doors. However, before we slip inside, I grab Abby’s hand to tug her towards me.
“What?” She instantly asks, uncertainty in her eyes stronger than ever.
Part of me wants to just stroke her cheek while telling her she’s fine. That there’s nothing to worry about. That my brother and his wife are fun to be around. But if I’m learning anything about this woman, it’s that she hates being coddled. She prefers being pushed. Again. I blame her parents.
I pin my eyes in hers as I slide my hands past her hips to the small of her back. Abby remains still until my fingers gently graze the skin just underneath the black t-shirt she bought specifically to wear tonight. My touch toys momentarily with the top of the lace from her underwear she didn’t realize I caught a peak of earlier.
Heat tries to overwhelm my system from the contact with the delicate object, but I push past it to taunt, “Just wanna make sure no one else gets a glimpse at what I’ll be seein’ later tonight.”
She grunts her disgust, pushes me away, and tugs down the shirt to ensure her panties are indeed hidden.
Another playful chuckle leaves me at the same time I open the door for her to enter the building.
Best part of being a gentleman? Getting to drink in the sight of your girlfriend’s bodacious ass in a pair of tight jeans when she walks by. Pop taught us many manners, but hands down I believe holding the door open is by far my favorite.
We enter the building and are immediately engulfed in loud music and a lively bunch. The building is divided into four distinct areas. Closest to the entrance is the bar and dining area while furthest from us in the back corner is the dance floor. To the left is the pool table area that can be sectioned off if the sliding doors are closed and to the right is the area Abby will be getting very acquainted with in due time.
“Over here!” Sienna enthusiastically waves from where she’s sitting beside my brother in the dining area.
With my hand on the small of Abby’s back, I guide the two of us to where they’ve already made themselves comfortable with bottles of the Runt’s Beer.
We’re an overly supportive family. We all promote each other’s businesses when possible. Unlike Big Foot, Ford and I, Eddie doesn’t have his own. Claims he doesn’t have any interest. Personally, I think the lack of stability for his family is what actually scares him.
“Sienna, Eddie, meet Abby.” I motion my hand towards them. “Abby meet my older brother Eddie and his wife, Sienna.”
“It’s good to finally see you in more than just pictures!” Sienna exclaims as she extends her hand out for shaking.
Abby’s face immediately flashes confusion. “Pictures?”
“Oh, Blake is notorious for posting his entire life on Facebook,” she sells me out with a smile. “Did you…not know that?”
The two of us sit at the same time Abby confesses. “No. No. I did. I guess I chose to ignore it because I don’t like social media.”
“And you’re dating him?” Eddie tries to hold back his chuckle while they shake hands. “The king of selfies.”
“Fuck off,” I insert. “I’m not that bad.”
“Last week your face showed up so many times on my feed, I was beginnin’ to think you were a fuckin’ ad for somethin’,” Sienna snickers. “I had no goddamn clue what it was for but was smart enough to know whatever it was, it damn sure wasn’t somethin’ I’d ever want…”
Sweet country girl face, attitude of a drunken pirate. I understand exactly why my brother didn’t even wait three months to marry her. She keeps him on his toes. All Shaw men crave women who do that. Pop has always sworn the best women in life keep you smiling and drinking, usually for the same reasons.
Casually, I say, “It is not a crime to take pictures of yourself, Sienna.”
“It should be when you do it over five times a day,” Eddie argues between sips of his beer. He moves his attention to Abby. “You have no idea how much of a relief it is to see more than just his big ass forehead in pictures.”
“My head is fucking normal sized.”
Eddie and Sienna make a small hum of disagreement, which sends Abby into a fit of giggles behind her hand.
I fight the urge to continue to defend myself only because it has my girlfriend smiling and I never want to be the reason it stops.
The four of us settle in, the conversation beginning with basic questions towards Abby. Knowing her typical response to being around strangers, I keep an arm draped around her chair and my thumb stroking the side of her arm for support. She’s told me numerous times in the past my touch has a way of easing the nervousness inside of her. What’s wild is she has a similar effect on me. I don’t have any problem talking to people and charming my way into their life, but staying focused is a skill I struggle with constantly. Sometimes it’s staying on one topic. Sometimes it’s not getting distracted while engaged in another activity. My apartment with poorly painted walls and half assembled furniture is a testament to my creative aspirations, but lack of attention. I have a tendency to let my mind wander and my body follow, but when Abby’s around, her presence has this undeniable power of keeping all the jumbled pieces lined up accordingly. It’s impressive as well as terrifying.
After a couple beers, praises over the choice of drink I picked for Abby, a few shared appetizers, and conversations about popular movies that my girlfriend is obviously clueless about yet tries to hide it, we circle back around to a topic I knew we would.
Sienna leans into my brother’s embrace. “You’ve really never ridden a mechanical bull before?”
My girlfriend shakes her head profusely. “God, no. Aside from the fact I have never been somewhere there was one, all of this,” she points to her curvy body I love caressing, “is not something anyone wants to see in that much motion.”
She does this. Often. Her hatred for her figure only feeds the ferocious feelings I have about consuming her. Once she’s under me and over me, she’ll be worshipped and understand why all of her backhanded remarks were wrong.
“I disagree,” my tone light and playful. “I wanna see all of that in as much motion as possible all the time.”
Abby gives me an elbow to the side. “You. Hush.”
Sienna giggles seconds before she states, “Personally, I think you look great! I like to think of women like cheesecake. Some are thin slices, some are thick ones, and some are the whole damn cake. All are delicious and there is a perfect size for every customer’s preference.”
My girlfriend can’t resist fighting the explanation, “And what about those who don’t like cheesecake?”
“Fuck ‘em.”
Her crass response receives laughter from all of us.
Eddie shakes his head with a large grin. “Gotta love her.”
“Anyway,” his wife pushes back to the topic, “you should try it! If not for any other reason than to say you did something crazy.”
Abby’s lips purse together in actual contemplation.
Just as my hopes begin to soar, an unwanted voice chimes in, “I thought I saw the Shaw men over here.”
The woman slides to the side of the table to be in view of everyone.
Should’ve known there would be some sort of wrench thrown into the situation.
“Hey,” I do my best to kindly greet. “How are you?”
She ruffles her brown hair and pulls it to one side of her petite face. “I’m good. Much better now that I’ve seen you.”
There’s an unmistakable huff of irritation next to me. I fight the temptation to smile over her jealousy. It means she finds me worth being possessive over. The feeling is beyond mutual. I thought I was going to have to bash some random dick’s brains in while we were grabbing breakfast together last week. I had slipped away to answer a call for work and when I returned not only was he too close for my liking, Abby was cringing at his compliments. One look at me and he bolted. It was for the best. That level of anger was new for me. Can’t say I enjoyed it, but can say the make out session reward was worth it.
The woman turns her attention to my brother and his wife. “Hey, you two. Long time no see.”
“Never long enough,” Sienna mumbles louder than I’m sure she anticipated.
Thank you beer number four.
I lean back in my seat and introduce, “Abby this is Chastity.”
“That can’t be your real name.”
Her lack of filter I love kicks up the corner of my lips.
“It is,” she snips. “And…you are?”
“Wondering how sad your parents are you missed their high expectations of the name they gave you.”
The squeak out of Chastity is comical as is the cycle of amusement on my family’s faces.
I clear my throat of my own desire to make the situation worse. “Chastity this is my girlfriend, Abby.”
Her stance noticeably changes along with her tone. “Girlfriend?”
“Yeah.”
“Thought you didn’t do girlfriends.” She folds her arms across her chest. “Thought you only liked your fun for one night.”
Seeing her brown eyes feel with sadness stings more than I figured it ever would.
Words I not only spoke but swore by before Abby. I never entertained the idea that any of the women I slept with actually hated hearing them or wanted more from me. Especially not her. We’d been falling into each other’s beds periodically for years. Not once, did she ever ask or imply she needed more. I would’ve stopped it otherwise. I’m not an asshole.
“Were you just um…here for a few?” Eddie tries to wade through the thickness. “You here on a date or waitin’ to meet one?”
She pulls her eyes away from me to him. “Just a few girlfriends. Came out to blow off some steam.”
“You know a great way to do that is to ride the bull,” Sienna suggest swiftly. “Over there. Way over there. As in way way over there away from this table.”
“Oh, I plan on it.” Chastity presents me with a smirk. “Damn good at ridin’. You remember, don’t you Blake?”
I drop my mouth to retort when she cuts me off.
“Make sure you’re watchin’. Just in case you’ve forgotten.”
There isn’t time to comment before she spins on her heels and struts off the way she came.
“Is it wrong to hope the machine malfunctions and sends her and her fake tits flyin’ across the room?”
We collectively chuckle at her comment at the same time my eyes move back to Abby who has placed an all too familiar steel wall around herself.
I give my brother and Sienna a slight head nod, which prompts Sienna to announce, “Come on, Eddie. I wanna go dance before the bull wears me out.”
He stands up with her. “You sure that’s a good idea? You’re four beers in. This is about the time you step on my feet.”
There’s a muffled exchange as she drags him away leaving the two of us alone.
The moment I turn to face Abby again, she bites, “Is this your watering hole for whores?”
“I-”
“How many women in this room have you slept with, Blake?”
My lips press together to prevent from making the situation worse.
“Answer me.”
“No.”
The response seems to infuriate her more. “What the hell do you mean no?!”
“No.”
“Are you telling me no because you don’t want to answer or are you telling me no because you can’t answer? Because your dick has more rides than that stupid bull you seem to love seeing women on?”
I give the side of my face a good scrub.
Should’ve known this conversation would get here eventually. Other than the one we had on our first date, we don’t spend much time on the topic of past lovers. Not only because she has none, but because why would we? I don’t date. Neither does she. There’s no reason to talk about preferences in bed when you’re not going there yet.
“Blake.”
“I won’t answer you because it doesn’t fucking matter.”
“How does it not fucking matter!?”
“Because they’re not my goddamn girlfriend, Abby, you are!”
Her hands fold tightly together in her lap.
“How many women I’ve been with in the past doesn’t matter. I’m not keepin’ score. I’m not lookin’ for repeats.”
“Shakespearian.”
“I’m not interested in rememberin’ anything about them. You are the only one I give a shit about in or out of bed.”
She lets her stiff shoulders finally drop.
“Look, Angel, if I wanted Chastity, which I don’t, I would be with her. Same story for any other woman I’ve slept with. Don’t let yourself get caught up in high school bullshit kinda games. That’s exactly what she wants, so it’ll put a wedge between us.” I slide my hand over to place it on top of hers. “I don’t know about you, but that’s the last thing I want.”
Abby’s fingers separate from each other to tighten with mine. There’s a small beat proceeded with a quiet confession. “She makes me feel inadequate.”
“Because you haven’t given any rides?”
My attempt to lighten the moment by maintaining the metaphor backfires.
“Is this all just a joke to you?”
“No. Of course not. I-”
“Because it’s not funny to me, Blake. I’m not embarrassed to be a virgin, but I damn well don’t appreciate being taunted over it.”
Rather than dig myself into a deeper hole, I lift a hand in surrender. “I was simply tryin’ to understand why you would feel inadequate to a woman like her. Is it because she’s had more sex than you or jus’ because she’s had sex with me?”
“It’s the latter along with the uncomfortable reminder, I will never look as good naked as she does.”
The comment shifts my eyebrows upward. “What?”
“She’s just like Sienna. Thin. And fit. And,” her free hand makes a bizarre hand motion to fill in the rest of the sentence. “I’m never going to look like that. Or be like that.”
“Why does that have to be a bad thing, Angel?” Before she can reply, I sigh, “I’ve already had that. I already know what that’s like. I’ve never had a woman like you, and I’ve never been happier in my life. Give up feelin’ like you have to measure up to anything other than yourself.”
Abby’s expression finally softens.
“What do you think about us getting’ out of here? We can go back to your place and fight over something to watch. You really like watchin’ Friends.”
“That episode where she says Tony Danza instead of Tiny Dancer…”
I smile brightly. “Exactly. Why don’t we go back to your place, make some popcorn, and-”
“No.”
Surprise showers over me. “No?”
“No.”
“No…”
Her head lifts a little taller and she declares. “You’re right.”
The unicorn of phrases.
“It only matters how I feel about myself.”
“Exactly.”
“And I feel like… I should spend more time around people and laugh more. I should hang out with people like Sienna and Ollie and Dana. I should keep finding things I like to do outside of my house. And I absolutely should do more crazy things. Starting with riding that giant death trap machine.”
I laugh loudly at her choice of words. “Angel, you don’t-”
“I know,” she cuts me off, “but I want to. At the very least, it’ll be a good story to tell someday and we know, I don’t have many of those.” A sweet smile graces her lips. “Though with you around, I finally have more.”
With a gentle tug, her face falls towards mine for our lips to lock. As soon as they do, she parts hers to mesh our tongues together. They briefly roll around before I have to pull away; knowing what happens if we keep this up for too long.
Abby immediately declares, “Let’s go get your brother and Sienna, so she can teach me how to ride the damn thing.”
Once we’ve summoned them away from where they’re making out on the dance floor, the four of us head for the bull riding area where a small crowd is gathered. The section with the machine is blocked off by a thin brown fence while the red floor surrounding the bull is inflated like a blow-up mattress for the inevitable bucking off.
Once Abby has gained the courage and Sienna has taken a turn to demonstrate it isn’t nearly as dangerous as it seems, she hauls herself up onto the bull.
The grimace on her face tugs harshly at my heart.
This isn’t what I wanted. She looks…terrified.
I start to make a motion to stop her when Eddie drapes an arm around my shoulder. “Relax, Blake. Give her a minute. She’ll be smilin’ again in no time.”
My mouth moves to object when the machine slowly begins. Immediately, she squeals and hangs on for dear life despite the fact it’s barely moving. I motion again to stop her, but my brother tightens his grip. It takes a few more moments of the gentle bucking, but eventually my paranoia is pummeled. She starts to smile, and I can feel myself breathe again.
“You’re way in over your head,” he teases while I continue watching her.
“Yeah,” my voice barely replies, “tell me about it.”
Sienna claps gleefully as she continues to coach from her position beside us. She shouts encouragement without care about the other onlookers and snaps a few pictures I know she’ll send to me to let me post. As much shit as she gives me about constantly posting, she’s not much better. The big difference is most of the photos also contain my nephews.
Abby throws one hand in the air and grants her body permission to find sync with the rocking machine. Eddie frees me from his clutches and I rest my arms on the edge of the fence, eyes plastered on the fluidity of her hip movements. Her tits slightly begin to bounce and all of sudden I’m envisioning her on top of me. Dark hair swaying. Body bucking. Parted lips crying out my name.
Ah, hell. This was a terrible idea.
I try to nonchalantly adjust my cock yet Eddie leans down beside me to chuckle at my expense. “She’s punishing you. You know that, right?”
My girlfriend gives me a wink and my dick thumps against my jeans in immediate agreement.
“Yup…”
He laughs again, this time louder as the song fades into the next one. “Welcome to love, big head. It’s never an easy ride…”
Might be a bit easier if she were on my lap instead of that damn bull. Wait. Love? Is it? No…Maybe? No. Just because we’re having a good time without sex, doesn’t mean I’ve fallen in love with her. Sure, yeah, my days are always better with her in them and yeah, she brings me happiness I never knew I was missing, but love?
Abby giggles and tosses both hands in the air the second the machine stops.
The three of us clap for what would be a small victory for most, but what I know is monumental. Pride pumps through my veins rapidly and I grin wider when our eyes meet.
Yeah. He’s right. This is love. Just hope that’s not a bad thing…
We stroll in through Abby’s front door, a little before midnight.
“You sure you want me to stay, Angel?” I volunteer an exit from my position beside the door. “I don’t mind driving back to my place.”
She spins on her heels once she’s kicked her shoes off. “This isn’t the first time you’ve slept over.”
It’s not. Hell, I’ve ended up falling asleep with her in my arms so many times I started keeping a gym bag packed in my truck with workout clothes and something decent to wear to the office. But this time is different. This time I’m not sure I can keep the saint routine she’s accustomed to.
“No, but…” My voice hesitates to continue.
“But what?”
“Not sure it would be a good idea.”
“Why?” The less than innocent tone causes my cock to stir.
Because she’s fucking sexy. Because her playful nature is much sexier than her sassy one. Because I spent the majority of the truck ride here thinking of the least sexy shit I could to stop from pulling over to the side of the road to take her in the bed of my truck.
All of a sudden, Abby pulls off her t-shirt in a flawless execution. Her gorgeous full tits are practically spilling out of the red lacy bra I already know matches her underwear.
Fuck this is a nightmare masquerading as a daydream. A delicious, dark, succulent nightmare I will be replaying in my mind again and again, except there I’ll actually get to touch her rather than stare aimlessly.
“Don’t you wanna claim your prize from our bet?”
My dick swells to the point of pain. “Angel-”
“Don’t you wanna see what’s under these jeans?” Her fingers begin toying with the button to her pants. “Aren’t you curious to see if my panties match?”
I drop a hand to my crotch in an attempt to alleviate the discomfort. “Yeah and that’s…that’s…exactly why I should head home.”
Her actions cease. “I don’t understand.”
Relieved her hands are momentarily no longer in motion, I sigh, “Angel, I can’t promise to keep my hands to myself and I’d rather spend the night nursing blue balls than cross a line you’re not ready to.”
She offers me an unsuspected heated look. “How about you don’t keep your hands to yourself?”
Silently, I watch Abby reach behind her back to undo the clasp to her bra. The moment her dark, hardened nipples are revealed my mouth instantly waters in desperation.
“How about you come touch me like no one else has?”
Logic battles with instinct.
This is probably just a little bit of jealousy still lingering over Chastity and her bullshit. I shouldn’t take advantage of the situation. I should shut my eyes, turn around, and just go.
With everything in me, I grind out, “Angel, we don’t….we don’t have to do this tonight.”
“I want to,” she pleads softly.
My ability to continue to resist reaches its last breath. “Then say it.”
Abby lifts her eyebrows.
“I’m not gonna let you regret your first time with…anything. You want somethin’, Angel? You’re gonna have to say it. And you’re gonna have to say it like there’s not a single doubt in your mind because there damn sure better not be.”
Silence swiftly fills the air.
As much as I want her and fuck me, I want her, I am not going to be a mistake. I don’t want to be remembered as a mistake. Whatever happens between us, whenever it does, I want her to always think about me like I was an amazing moment, not just another item on a checklist for life goals.
Slowly, Abby closes the gap between us. She lightly presses herself against me, her delicate nipples immediately crushed by my chest. “Blake Shaw, I want you to touch me tonight.”
A growl festers in the back of my throat.
Her dark brown eyes fill with lust like never before. “Everywhere.”
Control is relinquished and my mouth is mounted on hers without further argument. My tongue wildly punishes her for every crime it can think of. Abby whimpers in response to the aggressive nature yet doesn’t back down. Doesn’t pull away. Her fingers latch onto my shirt for stability as she allows her tongue to be seized again and again by mine. Anxiously, my hands roam her sides, the feeling of the soft flesh against my calloused hands maddening. I slide my hands down to cup her ass and she gasps against my lips so sharply I accidentally lick her bottom lip. The moan she offers in reward has me silently loathing this decision.
This isn’t going to be enough. Nothing is going to be enough until I’m given approval to have my fill of her in every way possible.
Through a haze of heady groans and tempestuous tangles of our tongues, we tumble together onto her cream-colored couch. Her hands eagerly explore the cut of my chest and my biceps before beginning to tug my shirt upward in a request to banish it from our situation.
I lean myself all the way back and let my eyes admire the topless delight I can hardly believe I get to call mine.
The corners of my lip slowly curl upward, but the uncertainty in Abby’s eyes kills it. “What’s wrong, Angel? You want us to stop?”
She shakes her head. “I just don’t want you to be disappointed.”
A cocky smirk appears. “Not possible.”
To my relief the look dissipates and in its place thrill appears.
“Now, since I won the bet, I feel I should have the honor of pulling these jeans off to see my prize in all its glory.”
Abby bites her bottom lip yet doesn’t disagree.
I swiftly shed my shirt and smile again at the comfort it clearly provides her. I give her a brief moment to drink in the sight of the tattoos that cover my bicep, as well as to feather them with the tips of her fingers.
This isn’t the first time she’s seen them or touched them, but it’s the first time it’s ever felt this stimulating.
A shudder runs throughout me and it takes all the will power I have to keep my cock from coming. Rather than proceed to be the victim to her touch, I slowly roll my thumb across one of her nipples. Abby arches into the touch with a heavy breath. The transference of power back to me grows my grin once more.
I have to stay in control here. It’s the only way I won’t embarrass the hell out of myself.
After repeating the action on the other side, receiving an identical response, I drag my fingers down the middle, mapping out every spot that makes her moan or shiver. When I finally arrive at the top of her jeans, I abandon the idea of taking my time. She needs this part to be quick. Painless. Like ripping off a sexual Band-Aid. With a quick flick of my fingers and an even swifter sleight of hand, the button is undone and the jeans join my shirt in the discard pile.
My mouth drops at the sight of the delicate red material hardly covering her bare pussy.
Bare? She’s fucking bare? She has no idea how sexy that is nor does she have any clue how much more intense it’s going to make everything feel.
“Everything okay?” Abby’s shaky voice redirects my attention.
With our eyes locked, I slowly nod. “Even better than I imagined.”
She tilts her head at me sarcastically.
Sensing the spawn of an argument about to leave her lips, I slightly press my thumb against her thong covered clit. The gasp it grabs causes my dick to greedily cry for more. I continue the battle of self-control while watching Abby’s first steps into her sex life spiral fiercely. Her eyes shut tightly. Her fingers clench the couch cushion. Her rapidly rising chest struggles for stability. The combination tempts me to tug off her panties and see how she responds to my tongue in place of my thumb.
It takes longer than expected before I see her beautiful eyes flutter back open. Her face tilts to where she can see me and I ask, “More?”
Abby doesn’t hesitate to nod.
I let out a low groan, hook my fingers around the string and tug it off. Once it’s on the floor, I spread her legs wider and slide a finger to her soaking entrance. She gasps again except this time I don’t give her a moment to adjust. I push deep inside forcing her walls to worship the invasion.
“Blake…”
The cry of my name has me bruising my bottom lip.
There’s no way in hell I can last at all if she keeps that shit up.
Slowly, I drag my finger back out and use the wet digit to toy softly with her clit. More gasps and whimpers fill her home and I can’t fight the honor swelling my chest.
I am going to be this woman’s first and only everything.
My finger pushes back inside, this time to the brink. Abby whines at the unusual feeling, but rocks her hips upward to beg for it to continue. Not wanting to overwhelm her, I begin a gradual pump, using the palm of my hand to brush her clit as assistance. She freely flows with the movements. During every thrust, her pussy clings onto my finger for dear life and the pressure I apply to her swollen nub increases just slightly. My attention oscillates between the lecherous look permanently mounted on Abby’s face and the even more lascivious sight of her fucking my finger. All of a sudden, her hips falter in their determination to meet each push. Her body quivers at the same time her pussy begins to pulsate. She drops her jaw and the most carnal cry is sacrificed. The feeling of Abby coming on my fingertips, from my fingertips, pushes me to the point of insanity. I move my free hand over my cock to massage it through my jeans. My momentarily relief is stolen when her eyes grab a glimpse of the action. Without waiting for consent, Abby shoots herself upward, and drops her hand on top of mine. I let out a harsh hiss, which she responds to by sliding her palm underneath mine. Her fingers curl firmly around my cock. My head falls forward and my finger that is still buried deep inside of her twitches.
The words impetuously fly off my tongue, “Stroke me, Angel.”
There’s no denial of my request. I remove my hand from between her thighs and she sends her fingers to undo the buttons of my jeans. I hastily help, suddenly the most desperate I’ve ever been in my entire life. As soon as my cock is sprung free, she grabs it again with the same amount of force. Between the burning of her stare and the searing heat of her touch, I have to strain every muscle in my body to not ruin this moment like a school age kid during his first time.
Abby bluntly states, “You’re huge.”
A small chuckle leaves me. “Every man loves to hear that…”
She hums at the same time she gives me my first stoke. “And long…Are you supposed to be this long?”
The innocent questions clench my balls.
What man doesn’t want to hear he’s fucking well endowed, especially from the woman he plans to fall into bed with every night for the rest of his life. Oh hell, what am I sayin’? That’s twice I’ve had that thought tonight. Is it just the starving sexual appetite or is this really it for me?
I let myself continue to watch her exploration. Her grip remains firm, but her movements refuse to pick a speed. The slow to fast to slow again is the most delicious torture I’ve ever endured. My balls reach the point they’re aching so much in anticipation for relief I become lightheaded. Too close to coming, yet too far from doing it in my favorite nature causes my lungs to constrict, ceasing my ability to breathe. Abby’s thumb unpredictably swipes the pre-cum off the tip of my dick and I crumble.
“Coming,” I breathlessly try to warn.
Rushes of heat surge out of me and into her hand. She sweetly moans at the feeling, treating the sticky substance like a reward. I shudder, growl, and yank her to me. Our tongues fuse back together and I helplessly fall deeper into the blissful abyss.
No other woman has ever made me feel like this. Not sure another woman ever could. Regardless, I don’t plan on finding out. Abby Atkins is my angel and life with her, absolute heaven.