twitch.
Abigail felt an arousal pulsing between her legs, but she couldn’t identify exactly what had triggered it or when she’d become aware of it. With fuzzy satisfaction, she kept tonguing Thomas’s ear and caressing the back of his neck, which she remembered had always been particularly sensitive.
She sensed his body growing tighter and tighter beneath her, and he huffed out guttural, uncontrolled sounds that thrilled her. Even before things had fallen apart, he’d always seemed so careful and controlled.
But she knew she was turning him on at the moment, and her blurred thought-process understood this as reason enough to keep doing it.
Eventually, her tongue got tired, so she moistened her lips and then rubbed them along his temple. When he moaned softly, she asked, “You like that?”
“Mm,” he hummed. He’d been doing his best to fondle her breasts through her tank top, hampered by her awkward position above him on the couch.
“You’re not saying much,” she complained, feeling like she was doing all the work in sustaining the conversation. Still straddling his lap, she raised herself higher on her knees so she could run her lips across his forehead.
“Otherwise occupied,” Thomas murmured, taking advantage of her higher position to pull one of her breasts out of the neckline of her top.
Abigail was briefly peeved that he sounded slightly more articulate than her, but that mild irritation vanished when he closed his lips around her nipple. He suckled with more enthusiasm than skill, but the stimulation caused her intimate muscles to clench.
She reached down and discovered he was hard in his pants. She did her best to massage him, rewarded when he groaned softly.
Then suddenly he was lifting her off his lap, putting her down on the couch beside him. It was like something had changed in him, clicked in him, turned off.
Or maybe on.
“What’s going on?” She started to move over him again, her body desperately craving what only he could give her. “I wanted to—”
“I know, baby,” he murmured, gently moving her hand from his groin. “I’m sorry. But not like this. Not when you’re buzzed.”
Her face twisted in frustration. “I want to. I wouldn’t do it if I wasn’t buzzed.”
“I know.” He said again, grabbing her wrists so she couldn’t reach for his erection again. “That’s why we have to stop.”
There was something final in his tone that even her fuzzy mind could recognize. So she slumped down, against him, disappointed, frustrated, and heavy with something even deeper. “I wanted to,” she murmured.
He wrapped an arm around her. “I know. I did too.” He sighed. “Shit, I drank too much.”
“Is the room spinning for you?”
“Nope.”
She huffed. “Party-pooper.” Then, when a wave of dizziness hit her, she said, “Oh.”
“Tell me if you’re gonna be sick.”
“Nope.” She grinned up at him, pleased that she’d thought of such a witty retort.
“Nope—you won’t tell me? Or nope—you won’t be sick?”
“Nope, won’t tell you and won’t be sick,” she said with more confidence than was entirely warranted.
With an uneven laugh, Thomas tightened his arm.
Abigail sighed, rubbing her cheek against his shirt. “You feel nice.”
“You think so?”
“I do. I’ve always loved how you feel.”
“You feel nice too.” He tilted his head down and nuzzled her hair.
She didn’t see anything wrong with that. She felt like nuzzling too. So she nuzzled his shirt, since it was the only thing she could reach in her present position. “I do?”
“Mm hmm,” he murmured, blowing her hair with his breath. “Soft and warm and...”
“And what?”
“Abigail-like.”
That sounded perfectly reasonable to her so she smiled against his shirt.
She turned a little, vaguely looking toward his face, although she couldn’t really focus on it. “You okay?”
“I’m good.”
“Good,” she sighed. Her head still spinning, she nestled
Abigail felt an arousal pulsing between her legs, but she couldn’t identify exactly what had triggered it or when she’d become aware of it. With fuzzy satisfaction, she kept tonguing Thomas’s ear and caressing the back of his neck, which she remembered had always been particularly sensitive.
She sensed his body growing tighter and tighter beneath her, and he huffed out guttural, uncontrolled sounds that thrilled her. Even before things had fallen apart, he’d always seemed so careful and controlled.
But she knew she was turning him on at the moment, and her blurred thought-process understood this as reason enough to keep doing it.
Eventually, her tongue got tired, so she moistened her lips and then rubbed them along his temple. When he moaned softly, she asked, “You like that?”
“Mm,” he hummed. He’d been doing his best to fondle her breasts through her tank top, hampered by her awkward position above him on the couch.
“You’re not saying much,” she complained, feeling like she was doing all the work in sustaining the conversation. Still straddling his lap, she raised herself higher on her knees so she could run her lips across his forehead.
“Otherwise occupied,” Thomas murmured, taking advantage of her higher position to pull one of her breasts out of the neckline of her top.
Abigail was briefly peeved that he sounded slightly more articulate than her, but that mild irritation vanished when he closed his lips around her nipple. He suckled with more enthusiasm than skill, but the stimulation caused her intimate muscles to clench.
She reached down and discovered he was hard in his pants. She did her best to massage him, rewarded when he groaned softly.
Then suddenly he was lifting her off his lap, putting her down on the couch beside him. It was like something had changed in him, clicked in him, turned off.
Or maybe on.
“What’s going on?” She started to move over him again, her body desperately craving what only he could give her. “I wanted to—”
“I know, baby,” he murmured, gently moving her hand from his groin. “I’m sorry. But not like this. Not when you’re buzzed.”
Her face twisted in frustration. “I want to. I wouldn’t do it if I wasn’t buzzed.”
“I know.” He said again, grabbing her wrists so she couldn’t reach for his erection again. “That’s why we have to stop.”
There was something final in his tone that even her fuzzy mind could recognize. So she slumped down, against him, disappointed, frustrated, and heavy with something even deeper. “I wanted to,” she murmured.
He wrapped an arm around her. “I know. I did too.” He sighed. “Shit, I drank too much.”
“Is the room spinning for you?”
“Nope.”
She huffed. “Party-pooper.” Then, when a wave of dizziness hit her, she said, “Oh.”
“Tell me if you’re gonna be sick.”
“Nope.” She grinned up at him, pleased that she’d thought of such a witty retort.
“Nope—you won’t tell me? Or nope—you won’t be sick?”
“Nope, won’t tell you and won’t be sick,” she said with more confidence than was entirely warranted.
With an uneven laugh, Thomas tightened his arm.
Abigail sighed, rubbing her cheek against his shirt. “You feel nice.”
“You think so?”
“I do. I’ve always loved how you feel.”
“You feel nice too.” He tilted his head down and nuzzled her hair.
She didn’t see anything wrong with that. She felt like nuzzling too. So she nuzzled his shirt, since it was the only thing she could reach in her present position. “I do?”
“Mm hmm,” he murmured, blowing her hair with his breath. “Soft and warm and...”
“And what?”
“Abigail-like.”
That sounded perfectly reasonable to her so she smiled against his shirt.
She turned a little, vaguely looking toward his face, although she couldn’t really focus on it. “You okay?”
“I’m good.”
“Good,” she sighed. Her head still spinning, she nestled
Similar Books
