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A daddy.
He broke out in a sweat of terror.
Or was it pure, incredible happiness?
Gripping her hand he drew her around and to him, watching as she looped her arms around his neck, her smile softer than before, her gaze so loving it warmed the very corners of his soul.
He loved.
And he was loved.
Marty had given him the greatest gift of his life when she had loved him. Could he truly begrudge Abram or Paige that same gift they would give to each other?
As he drew Marty to his heart, he knew it simply wasn’t possible.
* * *
Paige gasped as her jeans cleared her legs, and a second later the buttons of her shirt were torn from their moorings.
Abram seemed to be everywhere at once, his hands and fingers, his lips and tongue working a magic against her flesh that she had no hope of resisting.
He’d torn his own clothes off the minute they’d entered the penthouse apartment it seemed he owned in the heart of the city. Unfurnished but for the bed he’d had delivered that morning.
They had already made use of it once that morning, and now, he was pulling her to it again, his c**k thick and hard, imperative, as she felt her own arousal burning out of control, raging just beneath her flesh, demanding his touch.
Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, her nails digging in as his tongue slipped past her lips, tangled with hers, and tasted her, as she tasted him.
His hands were never still. Touching her br**sts, brushing against her ni**les, smoothing to her back then to her bu**ocks where he gripped the curves lightly, parted them, and reminded her of the exquisite pleasure of having Tariq behind her, invading her, as Abram f**ked her pu**y with desperate, ecstatic lunges.
Her vagina clenched tighter, a moan whispering from her lips at the remembered rapture of taking her lover, as well as his cousin.
The naughty, dark hunger was becoming as addictive for her as it was for him. It was becoming a hunger that reared its head and left her soaking her panties with her juices as her pu**y heated in need.
As it actually burned with desire every damned time he touched her. She couldn’t hold back. Slick, heated, her cunt rippled with the yearning for the erotic touch that only Abram could give her.
“Sweet Paige, what a fool I was,” he whispered as his lips moved down her neck, kissing, touching, loving her as she whimpered with the lust she couldn’t, wouldn’t even attempt to deny.
“Why?” Her neck arched as flares of sensation began to travel from each point that his lips touched, his tongue licked, his strong teeth raked.
With the tips of his fingers he caressed the curve of her breast, refusing to touch her straining nipple as he continued that slow, oh so slow, downward course.
“For ever denying what you give me with your love.” His head lifted, his dark eyes an endless sea of emotion as Paige felt her heart swelling, accepting, and giving in return.
“It wasn’t time,” she whispered, her hand touching his chest, his heart.
She could feel it racing beneath her palm, feel the adrenaline and the hunger that raged in the fiery stiff width of his c**k against her thigh.
“I could have made it time.” The regret in his gaze, in the stroke of his fingers against her jaw, in the incredible pleasure of each touch he gave her.
“But would it have been as sweet?” She smiled back at him, knowing in her heart that it was time, and that because they had waited, they would endure. “Would I have been mature enough to understand your love, Abram?” she whispered. “Or your hungers? I had a teenager’s confidence, and how thin it was.”
His head lowered, his forehead pressing against hers.
“I had a young man’s sense of forever,” he said regretfully.
“A young man’s sense of justice and belief in his ideals,” she amended.
His lips touched hers again, brushed, then settled and became harder, dominant, commanding.
She loved him like this. Hungry and imperative, determined to have her as she began to arch against him, feeling the threads of pleasure tightening inside her, around her, rocking through her as he moved between her thighs, pressed his c**k against the slick heated moisture spilling from her pu**y before pressing inside.
Paige arched and cried out as his head jerked back, pleasure creasing his expression as she felt the slow, shallow thrusts that began to rock inside her, to forge through the tightening muscles, stretching her, sending the pleasure racing through her, the ecstasy building through her.
There had never been anything as incredible as Abram’s touch. It was like lightning tearing across her flesh. It was like existing in a place of pure heat, a place where nothing mattered, nothing existed, and there was no pleasure but Abram.
With a last hard thrust of his h*ps he buried himself inside her to the hilt, a hard groan tearing from his lips as she writhed beneath him and cried out his name in desperation.
Lifting her legs, wrapping them around his hips, she could only hold on for the ride. Each stroke opened and raked against tender flesh and na**d nerve endings. Each breath was a moan, a cry. Each touch traveled through her, shredding her control over herself, over her own body, and over her heart.
It all belonged to Abram.
Meeting each stroke, her h*ps lifting, the flares of pleasure began to collide, to ripple into her womb and tighten her body until she lost her breath, lost her senses.
The orgasm exploded with such incredible force that her nails dug into the flesh of his shoulders, her legs spasming around her hips, her lips parting on a breathless moan.
It seemed to go on and on. To ripple and rake through her as she felt him surge inside her deep and hard one last time, then the heated spurts of his come filling her.
His arms wrapped around her, pressing beneath her body, his palms covering her shoulders as he whispered her name, his voice guttural, hoarse. Filled with love.
“Love,” he whispered at her ear. “My sweetest love. My heart.”
Without her, he knew he couldn’t survive. She held him. Every part of him. Every beat of his heart, every dream of his soul. Holding her to him, Abram did as he had never done. He did the very thing he had felt such guilt about because he hadn’t done it with his first wife, and she had known it.
He gave to Paige that last part of himself.
The part of a male that became more than a lover, more than a heart mate.
He gave her that primitive, possessive core that most men hold back.
He gave her his being and he felt the moment she gave to him.
