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“I’m—”
“I know,” he said, dipping his head to almost, but not quite, catch her lips with his. “Show me, Abi. Show me what it looks like to win.”
She laughed, and the sound tripped down his insides, catching and holding somewhere in his belly. He felt a tightening low in his groin and quickened his pace. Fucking her hand unapologetically. Abi didn’t stop the movement of her hand, her eyes as intent on his face as he was on hers. Then she shuddered hard, her whole body seizing for one moment, and she was cumming.
* * *
Every nerve ending in Abi’s body was alive. She felt the orgasm ripping through her and knew the only reason she wasn’t screaming her pleasure was the fact that she was very aware they were outside, and Mrs. Johnson next door was nosey. She bit down hard on her lower lip, wondering if this time she was going to draw blood and not caring one bit.
“You’re holding back,” Ilan accused, his lips against the shell of her ear. The feel of his breath in her ear combined with what his fingers still did to her shattered what little control she had left.
She jerked her fingers moving over the curve of his ass, and she must have hit just the right spot because he froze, then was pistoning his hips against her, his dick thrusting into her fist hard, harder.
He gasped something, but she couldn’t think what because she was too preoccupied with her own orgasm, the waves kept hitting her. She was aware that his teeth scraped the side of her neck, aware still that this was not a kiss. But that was okay, she wanted to close her mouth over his skin to stop herself from screaming too. It felt too raw, too good, too decadent to cum like this, staring up into the face of a person she absolutely didn’t like, but for some reason very much wanted to fuck.
She felt his dick tighten, felt it when he came, spilling into her hand, and the dirt, and probably her leggings too, but she didn’t care. She liked this too much. She liked staring up into his blue, blue eyes and knowing the exact moment he stopped worrying about everything but what she was doing to his body.
Ilan shuddered against her, his breath coming in great, heaving lung fulls.
Abi found herself stroking a spot at the small of his back with her thumb. Just as he had with his belt buckle. It was a simple movement, soothing in its way. She knew they would have to disentangle themselves soon. They weren’t lovers, so there would be no reason to cuddle and whisper quietly to each other about who-knew-what. She felt a little bereft at that, but she had no interest in examining why. Instead, she gave herself a moment to collect, knowing there was going to be no kind way to end this interlude.
He seemed to sense her shifting mood because his head lifted and his eyes took in her face for a long, long moment. Then he was moving, extricating himself, fingers slipping away from her body. He untangled his hand from her hair somehow, and stepped back. Matter-of-factly reaching to set his clothes to rights.
Abi couldn’t find the words to say, wasn’t sure what the right words to say would be in any case.
Before he buckled himself back into the belt, he stepped back toward her, she thought for a moment that he might finally, actually kiss her. But no, he only helped her to put her own clothes to right, catching her hand and using the tail of his shirt to wipe the traces of his seed from her fingers. She knew she should appreciate the kindness, but, somehow, it just irritated her.
What did he think this was?
She opened her mouth to say as much, but the look on his face stopped her. He didn’t look disengaged. He didn’t look like he was dismissing her or treating this as some kind of conquest. Instead, he only looked… thoughtful.
There was a sound from the woods, something like an air horn. He grimaced, glanced at his watch and looked at her with something close to apology on his face.
“I have to get back—”
“It’s fine,” she said, waving him back to the gate on the other side of the deck. She knew this didn’t mean anything, didn’t she?
“Abi—”
“Go.”
He left.
SEVEN
“Are you going to tell me what’s got you in such a mood, or are you going to make me guess?” Leah asked, amused. It was rare that Abi was the one in full pique. Usually, it was the other way around.
“You’re in a mood,” Abi said automatically, and she winced because it made her think of that scene with Ilan.
“You are such a liar,” Leah said as she took the dough from the bowl and started separating it into parts.
“Oh yeah, well you’re a—”
“Abigail, you’re not three,” Leah warned.
“Do you want any help with that?” Abi asked, knowing it was silly to even ask. Leah never wanted help in the kitchen. In the kitchen, Leah was a queen. Abi could hold her own, but nothing like the things her sister could create without even really trying.
“How did the thing go?” Leah said, her tone just the tiniest bit absent as her attention was on the dough in front of her.
