by Gina Whitney
She nodded, bobbing her head. “That’s not even the half of it. We need to talk, chick. I mean, girl-talk that doesn’t leave the room kinda talk.” She wiggled her eyebrows.
Gah. I shuttered to think what she’d say about Abel’s preferences. He and Woody were bandmates. I often wondered if guys talked as much as girls. I had no clue. What I did know was…girls told each other everything. At least with respect to sex and romance. We gushed when it came to that stuff. I was more apt to being open about my sexual prowess than I was with my emotional baggage. Cindy knew some. However, she had gotten the cleaned, neat version of my life.
“Agreed. We need a girl-margarita night,” I responded.
“His speech, Gia. You have no fucking clue. At first, I was offended…pissed. Until he explained. You wanna piss yourself?” she asked.
I didn’t know that was up for debate so I answered yes.
“Imagine, in the moment, he says— ” She looked around, her voice very low. “— I want to throw it in your box! What. In. All. That. Is. Holy.” We both blinked before almost laughing out of the chair. The conversation stopped around the table. All eyes on us.
“Private joke,” I explained, holding up my hand to say sorry. We laughed harder. “He has some fucking weird ass expressions,” I said.
“You think? My box? Who says that? Throw it in? Damn, I have a whole arsenal of Irish speech to English. Day in and day out I’m rolling on the floor. He gets pissed. Oh, yeah pissed means…let’s get drunk.” She snorted and I giggled.
Abel squeezed my sides while leaning in to smell my hair. He was always touching, stroking, smelling, and kissing me. It was hard to believe he was as dominant as he was in the bedroom. I’d never peg him to be what he is. Then again, I never knew anyone quite like him.
The two hours went by quickly. We promised to meet up with everyone later. I was pleasantly surprised to see Ender was behaving as well as he was. Normally, he itched to scratch Abel’s possessive side, creating a cluster-fuck of tension. His sudden maturity was a welcomed surprise. Jake and he were wrapped in two waitresses, who were doting shamelessly on them. Enjoying my mimosa, I noticed Chance in the corner ordering the staff around. He turned. Our eyes caught. A glint of sorrow and something else. Dare I say, distain? Something just felt off about him the last few days. He looked away, busying himself with something trivial. So, I let it go.
The ride to Abel’s surprise adventure was nothing short of spectacular. I thought we’d end up all over each other. However, he paid special attention to the details of the city of Paris explaining the architecture, city, and culture to me as we rode by. I thought he should apply for a tourism job. The information coming from his mouth wasn’t the Abel I was used to. No way. It was a whole new side to him. It was refreshing. He was eager to teach. Just as I was excited to learn. Always the teacher and pupil. I wondered if that part would ever change. Was there anything I could teach my Sir? My heart sank at that. Probably not! He was so much worldlier than I was in everything we did. Lost in thought, I decided not to label it. If it worked, who gave a fuck, right?
The limo dropped us off in front of a gorgeous gothic church. He threaded his fingers through mine. The sweetness was not lost on me. He guided me through the chapel’s extensive assembly of stained-glass windows and explained it was the most all-embracing collections of the Thirteenth Century anywhere in the world. I sat up a little straighter as we sat in a pew to the side of one particular window for his little tutorial. He told me about King Louis IX of France, and how he commissioned the architecture to construct other notable works around the city. He said the king was later recognized as a saint by the Catholic Church. His title now, Saint Louis.
“The actual thorns of Christ?” I asked.
He nodded solemnly, explaining all that he knew. I was thankful to be in such a holy place. I had never been in church. I was ashamed to say that my mother never thought enough of me to even send me to a religious institution. I never even made my communion. Who knew if I was baptized? At least I knew I was Catholic. That was something at least.
Wide-eyed and wondrous was what I was. It was a lot to take in. I wondered if I’d meet a priest. I’d love to meet one. To be blessed by one was on my bucket list. One breath in. One short breath out. He hadn’t a clue as to the emotions that were stirring within me. It meant the world to me that he was sharing a piece of who he was with me. I hoped one day I’d be able to show him something as impressive. He wasn’t just any rock-star. He was brilliant, successful, and mine.
We were both hungry. I tried to deny it, but my stomach spoke before I could.
I suggested the Hard Rock Café. He shot that down, saying the sweetest, most romantic accompaniments I’ve ever heard. He wanted something special between us. A place to call ours. I never had an ‘ours’ with anyone.
An expensive little café adjacent to the Seine River was where we sat. I didn’t know what to do with my hands.
After dessert, I wanted to take a walk along the river. “Can we walk?” I asked, looking around. I was beyond shocked his fans weren’t intrusive. A few asked for autographs during dinner, and he apologized to me while he signed. Please, what did he have to apologize for? Being successful? Being a sex-symbol? Being him?
“If you’d like, my lovely.” He led the way to the river. He held my hand with an occasional squeeze. “I have another surprise, Beauty. I hope you like boats?” he asked.
“Boats?”
“Yes, it’s called a bateau. A boat specially designed for sightseeing. I thought you might like it. See some sights from the water.” He shrugged, making like it was no big deal. To me, it was the biggest deal.
“Yes!” I shouted, hugging him tightly.
“Yes, you like boats or….?” He hugged me back laughing. “Right this way, my love.” He extended his hand to show the deck hand who welcomed us to his boat.
“Are we waiting for other people?” I asked, noticing the guy was untying us from the mooring.
“Only you and me, baby.” He walked us over to a sofa on the outside deck beneath the stars, his arm around me. I leaned my head back and reached my hand up to touch the stars. “What are you thinking about, Gia.” He spoke my name with concern. He only used my first name when he was mad or concerned.
“I’ve never been this close to God before today,” I answered. He showed me so much love that day. The least I could do was be honest…truthful— in the moment with my Sir.
“Explain that to me.” He brushed my bangs off my face. I wanted to close my eyes to relish his touch. However, the view of the sky was breathtaking. I didn’t want to miss a moment of it.
“For one, I feel like if I close my eyes, it will all be a dream when I open them. I don’t want to miss a minute of it.” I turned to look at him. His eyes were glassy but intense. I had to look away. With my hand, I combed my hair back, feigning indifference. I was anything but…God, it was hard. “Have you ever felt so close to something…and yet it feels like you’ll never really reach it?” I looked upward to the sky. “The stars are so bright. So clear. They feel so close. Yet they aren’t at all. It’s all an illusion or perception.” I started to bite my thumb.
He removed it from my mouth, bringing it to his lips to kiss every finger on my hand. His eyes never moved from mine. Heat prickled my skin. A thrill of possession fluttered in my belly. My eyes went to his devastating lips. His eyes darkened, but they held emotion. Emotion, maybe he wasn’t ready to share. He frowned. Sigh. I was a walking, talking wreck of emotion.
A satisfied glint glistened in his eyes. He nodded. Then, swift and hard, he took my mouth. His tongue was velvety goodness. His strokes were sure and firm. My world halted on its axis.
“Does this feel real enough for you, Beauty? I’m no illusion. And the only perception is going to be you on your back with me deeply seated in that sweet cunt, showing you all the ways this isn’t a dream. I am your fucking reality.” He grabbed my hand, placing it to his lips and then to h
is heart. “Again, I will tell you…I am your real, as in reality. And you are mine…”
I came to learn the name of our yacht, was the Don Juan II. It was a beautiful mix of modern elegance with a splash of traditional. Teak and copper accruements adorned the yacht’s indoor/outdoor fixtures. Hardwood ran throughout, giving it that old money feel. The captain came to the deck to introduce himself. Abel greeted him and thanked him for his provisions.
“This is my beauty,” he announced.
“Mademoiselle,” the captain answered in French.
“Merci.” I curtsied.
Abel smiled brightly. The cleft in his chin beckoned to be licked.
The crew went about their business after introductions. They were courteous. Then again, with his money, why wouldn’t they be? God only knew what he paid for that private affair. I leaned over the balcony, amazed at the view of the Eiffel Tower looming before me.
My Sir’s arms wrapped around me, crooning a song I loved. He whispered something French in my ear. I didn’t know what he said, nor did I care. His French sounding tongue had me hot as shit.
“A little louder, baby…” I asked, laughing. I just wanted him to repeat what he said as he seduced me with his word-porn.
“Je veux vas te faire encule sous les étoiles.” He nipped my ear.
I snuggled closer. I couldn’t get close enough. “Again,” I pleaded, smiling to myself. I may have sounded like an idiot. However, I didn’t give a damn.
“Don’t you want to know what I said?” he asked, placing small kisses to the side of my neck that was exposed to him.
“Umm, nope. I’m good. Whatever you said, the answer is yes, yes, and yes.” We both laughed. “I’m kidding.” I really wasn’t. But he was being so romantic I wanted to encourage him. This tatted titan was an openly romantic dude. After all, he was a rock god. I wanted to hang on to that moment for as long as possible. “What did you say?” I wanted him to tell me.
His smirk was mischievous. “I want to fuck you under the stars,” he explained.
Gah! Desire flared back to life. I fought the urge to rip my own clothes off, begging to ride his face. He would take what he wanted. I was learning to be the best sub for my Sir because of my desire to be his submissive. I understood his wants, needs, and preferences. He would lead and I would follow.
I waited. I knew it was coming— his request. My heart hammered in my chest, begging to be set free.
“Clothes off.” His tone was severe. There was no kindness in his words. It was about need. And I felt his need hard and long against my backside.
I shivered. Not from being cold but from his words— his demands. Something shifted inside of him. I turned to him, meeting his eyes. They were no longer soft with romance. He stepped back, loosening his hold around my waist. I looked around to see if there was anyone on the deck, anyone looking out of the cabin window. One breath in. One long breath out.
“Yes, Sir.” I unbuttoned the front of my dress, letting it drop to my feet. Since he insisted on no bra…I moved my hands to my thong, readying to take them off.
“Leave them on. The shoes, too.”
It was a request I wasn’t prepared for. He usually liked me without panties, but I didn’t question it. And so I waited for his next request. My nipples peppered. Tiny fires licked my skin. He walked to the couch a few steps away. Before sitting, he popped the button on his pants and pulled down the zipper, leaving his pants up.
“On your knees, Gia.” He cleared his throat. I knew from experience he was barely holding it together. He was anything but relaxed. He shoulders were stiff. His stance was commanding.
I walked over. My eyes down until I was in front of him.
“On your knees, Beauty.” His voice held an edge to it.
I dropped to my knees slowly. I knew it was all about form with him. My execution had to be perfect and pleasing. I couldn’t help but look up as his cock poked out of the top of his pants. He never wore boxer-briefs. He always went commando. A whimper escaped me. I couldn’t help it. I was shaking. He sat on the couch before me.
“Now take my cock out of my pants.” There was no endearment in his tone.
I leaned forward, trying to shrug his pants down with my hands. He lifted to make it easier, but not much. The bead of pre-cum dotted the tip of the dragon’s mouth. His Prince Albert sparkled under the moonlight. His cock was a beacon for my sudden watering mouth. My hand reached to grab his cock, paying attention not to scrape the sides against the teeth of the zipper.
“Don’t worry about the zipper, Beauty. My cock is pierced. Does it look like pain bothers me?” His voice was gruff with desire. Hmm, I guess he wouldn’t care about pain. I looked up at his face; his nostrils were flaring. Fuck. “Squeeze my cock tight and get that pretty little mouth on it.”
His words might as well have been speaking directly to my clit. I fought the clench as much as possible. However, it was futile. My pussy muscles instinctually retracted, searching for something to grip on to.
I started to stroke him, firmly squeezing as I went up and down. My tongue met the dragon’s mouth where his pre-cum beaconed to be licked. I dipped my tongue deep into the hole. His hole was bigger than the average guy because of his Prince Albert. It pierced right through his hole and out the side. I worked the ring, tugging it lightly with my teeth.
“Jesus, fuck, woman,” he growled. I knew by his filthy words and his hip movements that he was enjoying himself. His hands moved to my hair, threading his fingers clear down to my scalp as he pushed my head down onto his cock. He couldn’t help himself. The urge to pump into my mouth was riding him hard.
A trickle of wetness dripped down my leg. Fuck, I needed to rub my clit on something. The edge of the couch was not at the proper angle. I’d have to wait. Patience was never my virtue, but my Sir prided himself in teaching me about all the good things that awaited me if I were a good girl. God, he tasted so fucking good. I caressed the head of his cock as I hollowed my cheeks, providing a nice suction. I could feel his growl lowly vibrating through his body so I took him deeper, gagging and allowing my spit to drip down his gorgeous cock. I needed a lot of saliva to work past his Jacob’s ladder. My tongue feathered each one of his rings coming up as I twisted my wrist to the right. I started to pull him out of my mouth and take him down again hard, hitting the back of my throat. My eyes were watering like a bitch. The colors of his cock started to blur. His cock was a kaleidoscope of sin. I’d sin for this man any day. My pussy was throbbing in rhythm with my heart.
“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! You love my cock, don’t you, Beauty?” he roared, digging his nails into my scalp. Was that a question to be answered?
I hummed my appreciation. Fuck, yes, I loved his tasty cock. His cock hardened further in my hand. I was holding a fucking cannon ready to blow in my mouth. I knew it was coming. I tried to concentrate on my breathing. In and out from my nose while sucking him deep into the back of my throat.
“Louder, Beauty…I want to hear those fucking sinful, wet sounds as you’re working me.” His gravelly voice stoked the fires in my belly.
I was going to come. It wasn’t a question of if…it was a matter of when. I choked his cock harder, twisting my hand in both directions. Right…left…up…down…suck…gag…spit. Without warning, his warm release hit the back of my throat as he screamed my name…Gia. I was quick to swallow it all greedily before gagging again. And then I came, too.
My release didn’t come with a scream. I was trapped in silence. My eyes closed tightly as I waited for my world to stop spinning. With violent shudders and quaking tremors, I squeezed my thighs impossibly tighter, waiting for it to abate. His cock was still in my mouth as I looked up to a wide-eyed, smirking Abel Gunner. I released his cock with a pop. I smiled and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.
“You’re so fucking beautiful on your knees in front of me. My stomach just bottomed out. Come here.” He grabbed me under my arms, pulling me into his lap. His eyes and hands were appr
eciating my legs that were extended across the couch. His callused hand traced my legs up to my thighs and down again as his other hand held the small of my back firmly.
I wanted more. Touch me there. I wanted to scream. Give me your fingers. I didn’t say those things, of course. I waited. I knew his touch was for both him and me. He was stimulating my senses with his practiced hand. His index finger traced a line clear up to my nipple. He pinched hard and pulled it into his mouth, laving it with his tongue.
“Ahhh.” I arched. I felt so empty. I threw my head back, hoping he’d get the hint.
“Who’s got a greedy cunt?” His voice was deathly low. Now, that question, I’d answer.
“I do!” I answered too quickly.
He stood us up and gently placed me so that I was laying on the couch. He shucked off his pants, removing the shirt in one overhead grab. His cock was eye-level. How this man was rock hard again only spoke to how viral he was. It bobbed up and down as he kicked his shoes and pants off.
“Open those fucking legs and let me see that greedy fucking cunt.” His eyes were smoldering. He wasn’t asking. He was taking.
I opened for him, pulling my knees to my chest nice and wide. His eyes never left mine. They immobilized me.
“Do you have any fucking idea how much I love this pussy?” He pinched my pussy lips through my panties.
“Ahhh!” I screamed.
The devil actually smiled. Of course, he did. He liked showing me through pain that there was pleasure.
“I’m not going to go easy. I’m going to take you fuck hard. Your job is to keep those legs nice and wide for me.”
I nodded. I had to fight the urge to wrap my legs around his waist. Another lesson in discipline.
He leaned one hand on the inside of my thigh, reaching up to pluck my nipple again. It peaked rock hard. “Lovely, how reactive your nipples are to me.” His words were mumbled more to himself than to me.
My eyes began rolling back in my head. I couldn’t take any more. He slipped his finger inside of my panties, pulling them all the way to the side to expose my pussy to him.
