AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“You can say that too, while I’ve got my tongue inside you. Right now, say the first words I need, Abigail.”
She takes a deep breath and starts to drop her eyes.
“Oh, no, princess, you look at me when you ask for orgasms.”
Her cheeks are flushed and she’s breathing hard, but finally she says, “Please put your mouth on me, Torin."
I grin. Okay, we’ll play. We’ll work up to this. I’ve got all the time in the world.
I actually don’t. I’ve got one year, apparently. But that doesn’t start until she says, ‘I do’. And I’ll take all the time I need to get Abigail Landry talking dirty to me.
I lean in and kiss her again. I make it deep and hot, but it’s slow and my hands don’t move from her hair or her back.
God, she tastes amazing.
Finally, I let her go. “There. My mouth on you.”
“More,” she says, breathlessly.
“Where?”
“All over.”
I lean in, putting my nose against the base of her throat. I breathe in her scent again, then drag my mouth up her neck to her ear. “Abigail, I’m not going to make you come until you say what I want to hear.”
Do I love words? Do I love to know exactly where I stand with people? Do I love to know when I’m making people happy and especially when I’m doing something no one else has done? Yes, yes, I do.
But this? With this woman? Right now?
Oh, fuck yes. More than I’ve ever needed those things before.
She’s going to talk to me. And she’s going to love it.
I let go of her. She makes a soft sound of protest that I love, but I keep my eyes on hers as I unbutton my shirt, shrug out of it, and toss it to the side.
Her eyes on me make my skin tingle and burn and my cock ache. She takes in every detail, and I want her hands and mouth on me so fucking bad I’ll gladly beg. I know all the words.
“You have tattoos,” she says, her gaze on the ink that starts on my left pec and continues over my shoulder, upper bicep and upper back as well as the tattoo on my right rib cage.
“I do.” I move in closer.
Her hands run over the images. Holy fuck I love her hands on my bare skin.
I press her left hand against my right ribs. “This one symbolizes the way Cara was founded.” It’s a trident speared through a shamrock and a daisy, binding them together. “The shamrock for Ireland and the daisy is the national flower of Denmark,” I tell her.
I drag her right hand up to the tattoo that’s over my heart. “This is a Celtic knot. Specifically, a Dara knot. A traditional Irish symbol that means anchoring or strength. The knot symbolizes the magnificent root system that holds up majestic, heavy oak trees.”
She’s listening raptly and I would bet good money that she’ll be looking all of this up later. The idea of Abigail learning more about Irish tradition, and maybe even researching more about Cara’s history, is almost as hot as the idea of her saying words like pussy and fuck me and I know I’m at risk of getting in very far over my head with this woman.
“This—” I move her hand over the ink that wraps around my upper arm. “—is another traditional Celtic knot, called the sailor’s knot, in memory of how my great-great-great grandfather went from sailor to king in one act of selflessness.”
She squeezes my bicep and runs her hand over my skin, up to my shoulder. “Turn.”
I shift slightly between her knees so she can see the ink on my back. It comes down from my shoulder, across my shoulder blade, to the top of my ribs.
Abigail strokes her hand over it. “This is the shape of Cara.”
I look at her quickly. “How do you know that?”
