Say It Strong (Say You Love Me Book 2) (14 page)

“Play me instead,” he whispered.

Liam

From the moment I felt Abby’s knees widen, cautiously at first, then fluidly when I inched toward her, I knew her guard was up. We kissed in this position for a while, me between her knees, not quite touching her, not pressing against her—that would have been too fast, too soon. But her arms laced around me tightly, and the heat rose off her skin like morning mist burning off in the summer sun.

She smelled like rain, wood, and rosin all rolled into one. Her naturally merlot plump lips tasted delicious. We rocked in a tightly coiled knot, kissing and savoring. Finally, I drew away, holding the sides of her face. I was panting. “Do you want this?” I asked.

“Yes,” she breathed, barely a whisper.

“Tell me how much.”

“Entirely.” Her words sent a wave of heat into my groin.

“I can’t make promises, Abby.” I pressed my forehead against hers.

“I can’t make promises either.”

I stood slowly and held out my hands for her to grasp. “Then come with me.”

Her longing eyes hesitated a moment, peering up at me. She was probably thinking it was now or never. If she was going to stop this speeding train, now was the time. Instead, she slowly slid her hands into mine, and I helped her to her feet, pressing her taut body against me. I adored the way her curves felt against mine—a perfect fit.

I led her out of the empty bedroom and down the hall, headed for the guest room, the only room that still had some furniture in it. My mother had wanted it that way, in case they were ever in the area and needed a place to stay. Though my parents could, at this point, spend the night wherever they liked, in any given hotel, they preferred to stay in my grandparents’ house, basking in their memory, picking up good-luck vibes for a long and happy life together.

Inside the room was a queen-size wooden sleigh bed with a quilt on top that my grandmother had sewn herself. When I was a kid, I used to jump on that bed. Now, for the first time, I’d do something else. I’d never brought anyone here before, not even Vanessa. The place was too close to my heart for just anyone.

At the window, I unlocked it, pushing it open to allow rainy breezes to blow in. Turning, I threw myself on the bed, lying on my side, and patted the empty space in front of me for her to join me if she wanted. I figured we could lie quietly and just breathe, forgetting last night and just enjoying the moment, letting our bodies decide what they wanted.

Abby inhaled deeply then lay down in front of me, her back to me. I wrapped my arms around her, suddenly overcome by goose bumps. “You’re warm,” she said, squeezing my arms.

“You want warmer?” I asked.

She giggled. “Hotter,” she said.

“Is that so?” I sat up halfway to peel off my T-shirt and toss it to the end of the bed. “How’s that? Better?”

“Oh, yes.” She blushed and chewed the edge of her thumbnail.

I lay back down, closing up the space between us. My shirtless body radiated warmth against her back. I wrapped one arm around her torso, right above her waist under her breasts, as though she were mine, all mine. Well, for one night, at least, she would be.

Her lips parted—a sigh escaped her. She traced the tattoos on my arm and hand with her fingers. In the dying light, I caught a glimpse of her nipple pushing through her bra and tank top. I traced my fingertip lightly over it, thumbing it softly as if playing a guitar. There was something ethereal about being here with the pelting rain outside, caught in a thunderstorm with Abby inside my grandparents’ house. Dreamlike. Yet she felt so real—a good, solid woman in my arms.

My breath hovered close to her face. I settled into her more, pressing my body and hardness against her before I’d meant to. How she reacted would tell me everything. At first, she did nothing, didn’t move or say anything. Then she arched her back and pushed her ass against me.
Holy shit,
she was driving me up a fucking wall. It was taking everything in my power to restrain myself, to keep from rolling her onto her back and feasting on her. I wanted more than anything to make her comfortable and safe.

We said nothing. Didn’t have to.

My lips moved from her neck to her ear, leaving a vapor trail of warm, inviting breath. I slid my mouth along her earlobe, nibbling and licking the contours there. The goose bumps on her arms returned, and she pushed harder against my body. I pulled her in tighter, pressing up underneath her breasts. She sighed heavily.

Wicked thoughts drove me insane, the things I wanted to do to her, but this was Abby, not some groupie. Everything had to be done slowly, deliberately. I would not rush her before she was completely sure she wanted to invite me in. Like she’d heard my thoughts, her small hands guided mine over her breast and squeezed. I was all too happy to oblige, and I massaged her, pinching and pulling on her nipples through the soft fabric. She writhed against me, wanting more, opening herself up for me.

Following her lead, I kissed her neck and massaged her nipples some more, marveling at the way they responded. My whole body was more alive than it’d ever been. With other women, it was as if only my cock responded, while I watched from afar, detached, as my body pleasured them. With Abby, I was present—completely—mind and body. Every inch of me participated.

I took hold of one of her thighs and pulled slightly to open her legs. She let out a soft moan.

Heat flooded down my stomach into my cock. My balls tightened, and my body begged to be inside of her. Foreplay was a beautiful thing, but sometimes, as much as I would’ve liked for it to go on forever, the raw need to just do it dominated everything else. It was what she wanted, too, what her body was telling me. I pressed my cock against her ass, and she hooked her arm backward over my hip, urging me to move against her harder, more furiously. My mouth landed on her ear again, my other hand around her head, playing with her hair. Jesus, I wanted her. I wanted her to be happy with me pleasuring her. I wanted her to be happy—all the time.

Why did she have to make me feel this way? Why couldn’t she just be a fuck and that was it? Was I falling hard for her? I knew I would if I let myself. I’d been craving a connection for a while now. I knew I could bring out a smile of pure joy from her, too, if she let me. I wanted to see that more than anything. All day today, I’d thought of nothing else. Other women gave me smiles so easily, too easily. Abby was a challenge, yes, but that wasn’t the only reason I wanted her. I thoroughly loved spending time with her today. She understood me.

Her head turned, her mouth opened freely, and we kissed, me behind her, her face tilted up, as if she begged me to take control and make her feel good. Her chest heaved with raw desire. I craved the need to feel closer to her. Kissing, tongues tangled and tasting each other, I slowly slid her skirt up, my fingertips grazing the backs of her thighs. She gasped softly, arm around my head, holding me closer, pinning me in place, in case I was considering going somewhere without her. Sliding a hand around and down her tummy, I paused at the top of her cotton panties, waiting for her to invite me in. She took my hand and gently slid my fingers into the cleft between her thighs.

Softness, heat, wetness.
Oh, God.

She moaned as I rubbed the spot in slow circles, kissing her neck, working her into a slow frenzy. We could’ve stayed this way all evening, grinding against each other, driving each other crazy, but I was dying to be inside her. My hands came up again to squeeze her tits. One slid to the back to unhook her bra, pulling the straps and freeing her of all restraints. Then I tugged down the front of her tank top to expose her breasts. The shirt’s tension held them tightly in place.

They were a perfect fit to my hands.

She turned to face me. Her dark eyes were alight from within, confirming what I already knew, that she wanted more. The whole thing. And she wanted me to take her there. Her longing gaze, hands on my chest, and mouth on my neck and chest confirmed it. She was losing herself, the prim and proper Abby dissipating like the sunlight outside. This woman had a sexual ferocity I hadn’t expected.

I bent to kiss her breasts, take one nipple into my mouth, and suck on it, tracing the curve and fleshiness of it with my tongue. She moaned, gripping my head. “Harder,” she whispered.

I kept sucking on her breast until I thought for sure she would come just from this.

I released my hold on her to slide up and look into her eyes. Her thumb swiped across my mouth, her tongue followed its trail. Other women assumed I just wanted a blow job and to come quickly—it was almost a game to them to see how fast they could make it happen. No one ever took the time to explore me the way Abby was.

My heart pounded. I couldn’t believe she was making me feel this way. We kissed open-mouthed, tongues only, lips barely touching, every nerve of my being on fire. We kissed for a maddeningly long time, taking in the moment, scents, and ambient sounds of the rain.

But tasting her sweet mouth was only making me more crazy. A moment later, her hand reached down and pushed against my cock inside my jeans. Her fingers worked to undo them, pushing down the zipper, and then her hand slipped inside and wrapped around my hard flesh. I moaned, hardly able to take it anymore. When she slid her body up a bit, giving me her tits to suck on while she worked my aching cock, I almost lost it.

I pulled down the jeans and flung them away, opening my knees to give her better access. With her fingertips, she traced the outline of my cock through my shorts, cupping my balls with a wide-open hand to feel the whole package. She tugged my shorts off, then did the same with her own panties, and I rewarded her by sliding my finger into her slippery wetness. She gasped, moving her pussy against my hand. I felt the velvety smoothness of her lips and couldn’t help myself, pushing another finger deep into her.

She moaned, pressing harder against my hand. Her breaths came faster, eyes quivered, and head tilted back. Her only words came as a whisper against my ear. “I want you inside me.”

“As you wish,” I said, moving away long enough to scramble for my discarded jeans and grab a condom. As I ripped it open and rolled it on, she watched with quiet fascination. She sat up suddenly, gazing into my eyes through a fog of lust and gently guiding me onto my back and up against the pillows.

I smiled, knowing what she was about to do. When she kissed me again, there was something in her eyes I’d never seen before, something primal, hot as fuck. She stood before me, watching me carefully. Her body was exquisite—toned legs, narrow hips, small waist, and perfect, round, full breasts. She reached up and let her hair down. It fell in a cascade over her shoulder. She pulled off her skirt.

There she was, in her full glory. I never imagined, in a thousand years, that Abby Chan, nerdy cellist girl, would feel comfortable enough to do that. For all I knew, she didn’t, and this was her exercise in coming out of her shell, but maybe she did, in which case she was a thousand times sexier and more confident than any woman I’d ever been with.

Abby bit her lip to hide a big smile, knowing I was enjoying this. She pressed one knee into the bed, threw the other one over me, and straddled me. I couldn’t believe this would be the position for our first time. It couldn’t have been more perfect if I’d dreamed it.

“Your face just lit up.” She reached down to guide my cock into her.

“Because I’m reflecting the light that is you, Miss Chan.” I grabbed her hips and pulled them down onto me, then then urged her forward so she could press her clit against the base of my cock. She closed her eyes and groaned a sweet noise. I watched her nipples darken, harden, her arms full of gooseflesh again.

She made love to me, watching my face and clearly enjoying every second of it.

Looking up at her on top of me, I wanted to tell her that I loved her. But how was that possible? I’d only just met her. Then again, my parents felt it the very first night they met. They talked of magic, of instant connection, the feeling that they’d always known each other.

I held on to her hips, guiding her movements, driving upward to meet her thrust for thrust. I filled her up so
fucking good
. Amazing, the way we fit together. I couldn’t believe my luck, this woman with her porcelain-doll face, talented hands, body that fit me like a glove, and sharp-witted brain.

My mind went through an infinite number of sexual scenarios, different ways I could please her once we had more patience. Her rhythm was perfect, her breathing shallow, but then…a thought suddenly occurred to me. What if this was it? What if, after this night, she decided that once was enough? With other women, that would’ve been fine with me. After all, the groupies were a dime a dozen. But Abby? There was no other Abby.

Her hands spread out on my chest to use me for support, and my hands glided over her ass to further grind her against me. She lowered her upper body to kiss me again, breasts grazing my chest. I tried to make it last, but the sensations building inside of me were too much. She moved faster, and I felt she was almost there, too. My hands slid along her back, into her hair, and back down again. Her muscles tightened around me. An orgasm was on the brink. My biggest fear now—she would come, then afterward decide I was too much for her, too dangerous to love, and we’d never do this again.

I couldn’t risk that.

Shifting gears, I lifted her hips to help fuck her from underneath, driving my cock farther into her, using my thumb to press against her clit. That made her moan. Lightly, I gripped her chin to make her look at me, bring her front and center to her climax, make her remember who gave it to her. I kissed her, tongue deeply exploring her mouth, hands fluctuating between grasping her hips and her face. She was about to unravel…