AllFreeNovel
Share Us
twenty
. . .
Jen
Three Advil
Tender.
That’s the only word I can use to describe Abel’s touch as he runs a warm washcloth over my front.
I’m lying in his bed, still naked. Still humming from the orgasm to end all orgasms. Abel wasn’t lying. I have never in all my life come that hard.
I have never been so roughly handled, or so well cared for, during sex.
The dissonance is a mindfuck. Abel wasrough. Even now, he frowns when he glimpses tiny bruises forming on my backside from where he bit me.
“That hurt?” he asks. He took off his shoes and now he’s sitting up on the bed beside me.
I shake my head. “You can stop asking me that. I’ll tell you if it does.”
“Can I trust you to be honest?”
“I think the people pleaser in me left the room right around the time you spit tequila in my mouth.”
Because he did that.
Abelspit tequilainto mymouth, then made me crawl to him so he could tell me in the filthiest terms possible I was going to suck his dick.
Any other guy pulled that shit, I’d think he was a selfish asshole.
But then Abel, being Abel, turns the tables and goes down on me until I come so hard the only name I remembered was his. He ate me out like he meant it. No rush. No hint of distaste or impatience.
I almost died when he sucked on my clit. No one’s ever done that to me before. The urgency of his movements, and his confidence, his intention to tease me and draw out my orgasm—it was mind-blowingly hot.
It made me feel like he was desperate for me. Only me. Like I’m the only woman he wants. The only woman he’s ever wanted.
My skin feels tight where his cum has already dried. Abel works the washcloth in slow, steady circles over my body. He’s especially careful when he gets to my breasts, his nostrils flaring as he thumbs my nipple through the washcloth. I arch into his touch, heat flaring to new life between my legs.
Dear God, I hope Abel wasn’t messing with me when he said we would hook up again.
“I like that,” I say, mimicking all the times he told me what he liked. It’s a nice change of pace, being with someone who’s so upfront about what turns him on. There’s no mind games involved. Makes me realize just how low my bar for men has been.
Makes me want to be upfront too.
Abel chuckles, a masculine sound that rumbles inside the vast expanse of his chest. “I noticed.”
“I liked that. Downstairs. Everything you did.”
“I noticed that too.” The washcloth edges lower. Closer to where I want him most.
“You’re very good at—so many things, Abel.”
Another dark chuckle. “I try.”
“I think you’re a secret overachiever.”
“Me? Ha.” The washcloth moves below my belly button.
