And certainly not when it comes to Roman.
Thirty-three
Roman
That was a close call, I text.
Yep! Don’t worry. No one noticed your drooling over me.
That makes me laugh, but then Abby knows exactly how to cheer me. Not that I need cheering. In fact, I’d say everything is going well. So Chiara is down because Devi’s not around, but at least my daughter seems to be in good form.
The only turd in my punchbowl is Woz. He thinks he knows something, and while he might be acting all concerned for Abby, I know he’s thinking about how to use that information to his advantage.
My phone rings. Abby. Damn, my heart sure does enjoy the skip as I pick up.
“Really, Sullivan. I saw you five minutes ago.”
“Hmm, too desperate?”
“I’ll allow it. You make it out of the diner alive?”
“Just.” She chuckles nervously. “Sorry if I acted weird. I’m not sure how to be cool around you.”
That she might be a bit flustered thrills me. Sure I want her to be rock solid on a run but when we’re off the job, I want her all aflutter.
Aflutter? Jesus, I am acting like a giddy kid with this woman.
Her honesty makes me brave. “I liked seeing you, too.”
There’s a pause while we both absorb those mini-confessions. Maybe keeping it on the down low with the friends is wearing on her. The energy between us has the capacity to be so much more, but I’ll play her game a little longer.
“So is this a booty call, Cherry Pie?”
“At 1 p.m. on the Lord’s Day? You bet it is. Unless … well, unless you’re busy.”
Not a chance. “Open up.”
“What? You mean—”
“I’m downstairs.”
Two seconds later she buzzes me in and ten seconds later—I scaled those stairs like fire was nipping at my ass—I have her wrapped in my arms. She tastes so sweet and feels so good. I’m losing my mind, kiss by kiss, one heartbeat at a time.
I draw back, conscious that I’m still sweaty from my run. “I need a shower, sweetheart.”
“I like how you smell.” She nuzzles against my neck, inhales deep. “So. Good.”
“Let me clean up before I get down and dirty with you.”
Smiling, she takes my hand and leads me to the bathroom. While she turns on the shower, I strip, grab a condom from my wallet, remove her clothes—leggings and a T-shirt—and finally drag her under the spray.
“Turn around,” I gruff out.
With her back to my chest, I soap her up, enjoying the feel of her as I drag my hands across every curve. Her tits are the perfect weight in my palms, their tight points like sweet buds against my callused fingertips. My cock slips between the inviting cleft of her ass, and I can’t help dragging through and creating friction that drives me wild.
“Put your foot on the ledge, Cherry Pie. Gimme a little space to work with.”
My good girl does as she’s told and I clamp my hand on her mound, pushing my fingers between her thighs to make my claim.
Her moan bounces off the tile. “That’s—God, that’s good.”
Everything about this is. Fucking everything.
Her skin gleams like satin, wet and slick, and her body feels like a dream against mine. But it’s not enough. With Abby, it’s never enough.
“Give me your mouth.” I sound rough and animalistic, and every cell in my body stands to attention when she obeys, offering her lips for me to devour. I move my fingers, glancing against her clit. She starts to shake as her orgasm takes hold, and I wring it out of her one breathy moan at a time.
I’m not finished.
I turn her around and fall to my knees.
A kiss between her legs starts her up again, then I add a long lick of my tongue. This isn’t the first time I’ve treated her to my oral skills, but today, it seems more purposeful, like every lick and suck can convince her of my intent. Hungrily I feast on that pretty pink flesh, spearing inside her with my tongue until she’s writhing against my mouth.
Just before she reaches that peak again, I stand, slip on a condom, and slip inside her.
“Good?” I ask as I fill her up hard and deep. Staying still, I watch her expressions dance and waver. She turns her head away but I cup her chin to face me. “Tell me.”
“You know it is,” she gasps as I repeat the thrust, this time angling to stroke her clit, so sensitive after I sucked it to readiness.
Sure I know, but I know something else.
We could be incredible together, a real force to be reckoned with.
A tear escapes, slipping like a liquid gem from the corner of her eye. The shower’s spray could be the cause but I know the difference.
“Abby, what is it?”
“Nothing,” she says. “Just so good.”
She’s hiding something, and maybe I need her to tap into that current of feeling because it’ll bring her closer to the truth. The truth of us.
“It is. So good.” I close my eyes, then open them because I don’t want to miss a thing. “It could be like this all the time.”
“Roman,” she whispers, a plea for me to stop or continue, I don’t know. But I have to get under her skin.
I move inside her, marveling at how wet and tight and perfect she feels. She clutches at my shoulders, then my back and my ass. Pulls me closer, sealing the connection, telling me with her hands what she can’t say with her words.
I fuck her deep, rocking into her with unmistakable intent.
Finally, she gasps, “Please, don’t stop. Stay right here.”
Words in the passion of the moment, but as close to Abby’s truth as I’ve ever come.
“Not going anywhere. Staying right here with you.”
Her eyes meet mine, those blue oceans I would happily dive into. She recognizes the moment and Christ, does it scare her.
She’s not the only one. I’ve fallen for this woman in the worst possible way. I shouldn’t even be receptive to it—I just got out of a multi-year hellscape and never thought I’d be looking for someone to share the load. Because that’s what it feels like: a heaviness in my heart that’s numbed me for years.
But with this woman, I feel lighter, like a true meeting of minds, bodies, and souls is possible. With her, I feel free.
She looks away, but I won’t let her. “I’m right here, ciliegina. Nowhere I’d rather be.”
Maybe that’s the assurance she needs because something in her lets go of the fear. She softens, in body and spirit, and holds my gaze. It’s a little defiant, as if she thinks doing that will harden her against me.
Nice try, Cherry Pie.
I keep everything connected: the erotic tie that binds us together, the locked gazes that force us to reckon with what’s possible, the heartbeats syncing with every thrust. I interlink our hands and squeeze, and she arches up into me like she can’t get close enough.
I push deeper to let her know she can.
I can give her close. I can give her the world.
She just has to take it.
Thirty-four
Abby