Abel (Sabine Valley 1) - Page 58
Impossible.
And yet…
I arch up and capture one of Harlow’s nipples. I use one hand on her back to hold her to me and slide the other up Abel’s inner thigh to cup his balls. He curses and then gives a rough laugh. “So, it’s like that.”
I lift my head enough to glance at him. There’s something in Abel’s dark eyes that I can’t define, but it looks a whole lot like possession. There was a time when he looked at everyone he cared about that way, with an emotion that went beyond love. I never thought to have it aimed my way again, and even as my mind tries to reason its way through it, part of me can’t help responding. “It’d be a shame if you came before Harlow did.”
He gives a rough laugh. “Uh-huh. Since you’re not getting the job done…” Abel moves down to straddle my thighs. I realize what he’s doing a second before he lifts Harlow off my cock and impales her on his.
She cries out and falls forward, bearing us both back to the mattress. It’s the most natural thing in the world to kiss her; it's something I’ve done a thousand times in the past without thought, but it feels different now. Of course it does. We have so many things that were left unresolved between us for far too long. They might be out in the air now, but I’m fucking terrified that it’s too little, too late. I know better than most that sex isn’t enough to bind Harlow to me, but I’ll be damned if I don’t at least try.
As Abel fucks Harlow in short, brutal thrusts, I slide my hand between us and stroke her clit. She starts to retreat, but I’m having none of it. This closeness might never happen again, and I’ll be damned before I miss a moment of it. I hook her neck and tow her back to my mouth, kissing her even as she moans and whimpers against my tongue. She clutches at my shoulders, her whole body going tense. I know her signs as well as I know my own, and I keep up that steady, light touch against her clit as Abel pounds into her. Her thighs tighten on either side of my hips, and then Harlow is moaning her way through an orgasm.
Abel barely lets her finish before he’s moving us again, a conductor of our bodies and pleasure. He ends up leaning against the headboard with her between his legs and leaning against his chest.
I kneel between her thighs and spread lube over my cock. She just came hard enough that I can see evidence of it all over her thighs, but I meant what I agreed to; we’re going to fuck her over and over again until she can’t take any more.
And then Abel’s going to fuck my ass.
I have to pause, to let the thought wash over me and away, or I run the risk of blowing my load the second I penetrate her. It’s been a long time since I had anal. Harlow and I have engaged in some pegging, but it’s more an extra little spice than a regular occurrence. And her dildo is not Abel.
Fuck, I have to get control of myself.
Abel’s watching me closely as he palms Harlow’s breasts. He’s playing with her, keeping her riding that edge, touching her body with a familiarity that I crave and resent at the same time. “Problem?”
“No problem.” I drag my cock through her pussy folds, watching her part around me. The sight does nothing to drive back my desire. Gods, I’m already in trouble, and we’ve barely gotten started. I clench my jaw and press into her.
Abel takes the opportunity to hook his hands around her thighs and pull them up and out until her feet touch down on either side of his knees. The position allows me to sink even deeper into her, and she whimpers in a way that tells me I’m rubbing against her G-spot with every stroke.
He presses three fingers to her pussy above where I enter her. Not stroking her clit so much as providing the tiniest bit of friction as I fuck her. The tips of his fingers brush my cock with every stroke, the light touch nearly sending me out of my mind with need.
How many years did I fantasize about Abel’s hands on my body? How many partners did I have while we were still friends? People who were great but simply not him?
Harlow is the first person I was with who didn’t come with that baggage. I was never thinking about him when I was with her, because she’s overwhelming in a completely different way.
It’s as if eight years of missing him, decades of wanting him, all of that time spent not having him, roll into this moment.
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