by Stella Rhys
But then he cracked a dirty little smile.
You. Little. Fucker.
That grin. It was the sexiest, naughtiest thing I’d ever seen and it made me bite down hard on my lip. I was hot and now he knew it. If he wasn’t sure before, he certainly was now. Breathing jaggedly, I stared into Abram’s eyes, feeling everything else in the room. His desire. His fingers curling. I felt my nipples tightening and just grazing his skin when I exhaled. The touch made him breathe deep and glare at me in a way that turned me on hard. I felt an odd sense of victory. I’d yet to see Abram in anything but control and right now, he looked on the brink of losing it. I’d briefly paralyzed him and it made me feel powerful. Sexy.
But when he spoke, his words were even.
“Do you need me for the rest?”
“No.” I couldn’t have answered faster. But I had no intention of letting him touch my panties. They were effectively ruined thanks to him. “I’m just going to get in now,” I said, rushing in still wearing my thong. But my pulse jumped once the water hit my palms. The stinging shocked me silent for a second but then I couldn’t hold it in, hissing a long “owww” with a string of profanity that had Abram’s attention flicking right back to me. Laughing bitterly, I finally went fuck it and let myself give in. “I lied. I need you.”
“Yeah?” My words put an impish curve at the ends of his mouth but he said nothing more as he came to me again, stopping at the glass door of the massive shower. He hooked his thumbs into the waist of his sweats. “I’ll keep my boxers on but I’m taking these off. Alright with you?”
I nodded casually through my pounding heartbeat. “I’m going to keep mine on too.”
Abram laughed, his eyes once again locked on mine. “Fine with me.”
And with one swift push, he dropped trou. Oh… my God. I swallowed, trying to keep my attention on his gaze and not on his package, but through the corner of my vision, I could tell he was wearing navy boxer briefs. And I was pretty sure I’d seen something else that was unmistakable. He was hard. Holy shit. Not fully, but when it came to Abram, just a bit of him was already way more than others. God, oh God. I wasn’t sure if the cocky smirk in his voice was an acknowledgment or just him being a sexy asshole. “Stitches need to stay dry?” He reached for the bottle of Kiehl’s behind me.
“Yes,” I whispered, barely breathing as his fingers slid around my neck, letting me gently arch my back and tilt my head under the shower. For some reason, I feared the water as much as I craved it. I was quite possibly the world’s tightest ball of stress and frustration.
But the second the shower hit me, relief sighed from my lips.
Nothing hurt and I relaxed. My eyes closed, I reveled in every part of the moment – the sound of the water, the smell of his shampoo, the strength of his hands on me. One firmly cupped my neck and the other combed through my hair. It was like he was brushing everything away. Evan, money, Alma’s. Even Elle. All the things that plagued my soul were gone in Abram’s arms. Held so tight, I couldn’t think about anything. It felt so good that I hardly cared anymore about being shy. My naked chest pressed shamelessly to his, rubbing against him with every breath. My hands were hooked to his shoulders, digging into his skin as I leaned further back under the water. A shower had never felt so incredible. When Abram finally broke the silence, it was with a smug laugh.
“How are you feeling?”
“So good,” I breathed, resting the weight of my head on his palm as the water rained from the ceiling, rinsing out my hair. My mouth parted as I felt his fingers start to gently knead, massaging my neck. Oh my God. Don’t stop. I was in another world now, contentment trickling through my limbs. I knew the pleasure was on my face because I heard the smirk in his voice.
“Glad you like it.”
“Oh God… I love it.”
“Good. But since you’re already wet and naked, I’m going to need you to keep the sexy sounds to a minimal or I’m going to have a hard time over here.”
I was too relaxed to show the shock on my face. All I could do was hold in a moan as his other hand began rubbing the small of my back. I was in heaven. My knees gave out but it didn’t matter. Abram caught me and I heard his grunt as my breasts smashed harder against him. Slipping, his palm caught a rough handful of my backside.
I couldn’t help it – I let out my moan.
It was soft, held halfway in, but it lasted a good few seconds and was unmistakable. Because the way he grabbed hold of me – with such instinct, such raw strength and quickness – had me quickly as wet and turned on as humanly possible. Fuck. I bit back a sheepish grin, refusing to open my eyes as Abram gave a low laugh. “Yeah?” That single sexy word again and he had me crazy. I didn’t know how to reply. All I could do was chew harder on my lip, his breath on my neck as he kept his hand on my ass. “That okay then?” His question was a low murmur. He was asking if he could keep touching me there. For some reason, that drove my arousal through the roof.
“It’s okay,” I whispered eagerly, sliding my hand on top of his.
He breathed out my name like a warning. But whatever control he had disappeared the second I made him squeeze me. Immediately, he rumbled something full of need and my lips parted as I felt his fingers slide further down, to my underside, between my thighs. Oh my God. His fingertips just teased my pussy. They drew little circles as he pushed gently between my folds to feel my wetness, slipping himself just inside me and breathing out hard against my neck as I clenched around him. Holy shit. I had no idea what was going on but I didn’t question it. Every sensual bit of his touch was exactly what I needed. I was absolutely lost.
But when the water trickled to my raw knees, I jolted back to Earth.
“Shit.” Gasping wide, I blinked at Abram. My lashes were dripping, my arms snaked tight around his neck and his face just inches from mine. His stare was thick with desire as he held me close. Silent, panting, I let the water sting me, my nails digging into his skin as I stared at his lips. I wanted to taste them. They were smooth and pink and I needed to feel them crushed against mine. But for a moment, we simply stood there, frozen under the beating hot water.
Finally, I broke from his grasp, stepping back behind the showerhead. Taking a bar of soap, I held it out to him. “I want you to do my body now.”
Abram stared. That smirk I expected didn’t come. What I got instead was a wolfish look, his blue eyes glinting with a predatory gaze that took me back to the alley. My heart thumped when he finally stepped forward, walking under the water, soaking himself before walking me slowly back till I was pressed against the wall. “Tell me again what you want.”
“I want you to do the rest of me.”
Abram studied me for a tormenting second, our bodies as close as they could be without touching. Eyes on mine, he took the soap from me, something dirty about the way he worked it over his palms. I licked my lips as I simply watched. Anticipated. Yes, please, Abram… please… His hands lathered, he finally slid his languorous touch over the front of my body, trailing suds from my neck to my chest, his gaze smoldering as he slowly filled his hands with the swollen globes of my breasts. Eyes on fire, he soaped them up, rubbing slow, torturous circles before letting his fingers tighten slowly into a squeeze so firm it drew a cry from my lips. I moaned.
“Fuck, Isla,” Abram finally let out a vicious groan and broke our rule. Feasting on my naked breasts, his eyes soaked me in. They were a bright blue I’d never seen, wild with a hunger that made him growl like a beast. The sound echoed against the fogged glass and had me instantly delirious, pulling his hand between my legs. I gasped as he responded with his palm formed over my throbbing pussy, his fingers stroking through my thong for a second before ripping it down.
He slid inside me. The rumble came from deep in his chest as he felt the slickness of my arousal. “Fuck, yes, Isla.” Pulling out, he licked my juices off his finger before sliding two back in and pumping. Oh God. Uncontrollable pleasure spilled from my lips – loud enough for every suited m
an in his house to hear. There was no sense in holding back anymore. This was probably a bad idea but we were past the point of no return, Abram’s lips muttering into my neck as his fingers thrust deep inside my pussy. The ecstasy was unbearable, his erection pulsing against my belly as he tunneled inside me, a thousand different pleasures darting from every part of my body to my tightening core. I could taste the steam of the shower, hear the water beating on tile, but other than that, I was delirious, absorbing every ounce of Abram. All six feet and four inches of his muscled body zeroed in on my pleasure and my pleasure only. I never wanted him to stop. I was so far from Earth I could hardly remember my name.
With a handful of my hair, he pulled back to look into my eyes. “Come for me, Isla.” His raspy demand made me tighten around him. The corner of his lip curled. “Just like that. Come for me. I want to hear it.”
Yes, sir. And just like that, I was gone. Without another word, I gave Abram his wish, falling brutally apart at his touch, his torso pressing me into the wall to keep me on my feet. My nails in his skin, I felt his cock grow fully hard between our bodies. Holy shit. I never knew it possible to be so filled with sensation. I never knew I could ever get this fucking hot.
And for God’s sake, it was only his fingers.
It took awhile for me to finally begin to recover – before I could once again feel everything else. The water searing my skin, my bruises beating with pain. But I didn’t care. I was still panting hard, watching Abram’s spectacular frame step out of the shower, water trickling through every carved line on his body. Dripping onto the floor, he grabbed his pants off the sink and turned to me as I caught my breath, a wobbly five feet and six inches of human satisfaction leaning against the wall.
And as I stood there, thoroughly rocked and useless, he smirked, nonchalantly shedding his soaked boxer briefs and flashing me a naked second of staggering, rock-hard length before pulling on his sweats and walking casually out the door.
chapter seven
I was going a bit crazy. Twenty-four hours later and I hadn’t seen or heard from Abram. I told myself that I was losing it because he had my keys and his guys claimed not to know where they were. I couldn’t go home if I tried. Not that I was really interested in trying. I felt better than I had yesterday but stairs were still hard for me. The skin on me knees was eager to heal but it broke every time I bent my legs. My fourth-story walk-up seemed even less appealing than it was on any other day.
So I stayed where I was. By afternoon, I finally mustered up the courage to ask one of the guys what I was supposed to be doing. “He said you would be resting today,” was the simple explanation.
Right. That rest thing. It was what the nurse had also recommended but I was having trouble. All day, my mind raced, giving me no break from the memories of my shower with Abram last night. Looking back, I had no idea how it happened. I could hardly believe that it did, hoping that as the day dragged on, I’d forget all the explicit details. But they were emblazoned in my mind. I could still hear his every last murmur, breath and groan. I couldn’t run my fingers through my hair without craving Abram’s touch. I spent hours reliving one moment.
By evening, realizing I’d never done it, I grabbed my phone and Googled him. Keywords: Abram Monarch Chelsea New York. Every last thing I found, from big to small, lit my eyes with pure fascination.
His full name was Abram Lenox. He was the twenty-nine-year-old majority owner of the Monarch Hotel and a nightlife staple that the Post dubbed “King of Flings,” among other playboy nicknames. The paparazzi desperately wanted him but could never seem to catch him. Some women’s magazine echoed that sentiment. “Lick-able from head to toe, Abram Lenox can melt your panties with a single look. But don’t count on that ever happening – this mysterious hardbody is as elusive as he is tall, dark and painfully sexy!”
So he wasn’t quite a secret. There were articles about everything from Abram Lenox’s model conquests to his cryptic history with the Air Force. And I ate it all up. I couldn’t stop. I read about him for hours, searching everything from his pictures to the names of girls he’d allegedly been seen in public with. I could’ve gone on forever but thankfully, exhaustion hit my body out of nowhere, knocking me out before midnight.
But I awoke several hours later, to the sound of high-pitched giggling downstairs. Two sets of voices. Definitely female.
Tip-toeing fast to the door, I cracked it open, peering down over the railing to see into the kitchen. My heart skipped a beat at what I saw. Leaning against the kitchen counter was Abram, muttering on the phone as two willowy girls pouted and appealed for his attention. They had all the assets of swimsuit cover girls and judging from the way they moved, they were drunk. Hammered. Thanks to the articles, I guessed they’d all been at the club downstairs before coming up. “Perhaps Lenox owns the Monarch for easy access to a room – he does always need one after a night of watching models twerk for him in XIII’s VIP section.”
This must’ve been one of those nights.
Abram leaned against the kitchen counter and I felt my cheeks burn as one of the girls stripped her dress off for him, placing his hands on her body, wrapping his fingers around her breasts and making him squeeze. She moaned when he pushed her to the kitchen counter, laying her back flat on its surface so he could better stare while fondling her, all the while snarling into the phone.
“Sober up and go the fuck home, Nate. I don’t need your bullshit tonight.”
I should’ve guessed it was that stupid Nate on the phone. Abram argued with him as the second girl stroked his cock over his pants. But just as she started to unbutton them, he hung up with a frustrated growl.
“Let him in,” he muttered to one of his men.
I was unblinking as I watched Abram send the girls out just as Nate came barreling in, butterfly bandages on his purple cheek, spit flying in all directions as he snarled like a dog. “You don’t fucking learn, Abe.”
“Christ, are you still on it?”
“This isn’t the first time a pretty girl came around and seemed harmless when she fucking wasn’t! I’m telling you there is no reason to trust that bitch. She just happens to come into that alley that night, that time with no fucking ID on her?”
I froze when I realized he was talking about me. The blood drained from my face. My pulse beat my chest off the wall but I stayed leaning against it, straining to hear what Abram had to say.
“I did a background check. She’s fine.”
“You did a back – that’s it? What if she’s not fine? What if that piece of shit set us up? Maybe you can be relaxed about this but I can’t, because if the cops find out, they fuck up our shit and we never get Toro. And I know exactly what happens after that. We go to prison and you survive while his guys stick a blade in my throat on the first fucking day.”
Toro. I remembered that name from one of the articles. And I knew it anyway. The Toro Family was one of the oldest organized crime syndicates in New York. Dante Toro was a famously cold-blooded killer from my parents’ generation, his face as recognizable as any Hollywood actor. It was he that kept coming up in articles about Abram, thought they also mentioned his older son, Jesse. I figured he was the Toro that Nate referred to because I recalled hearing about Dante Toro being sick in the hospital.
But as my mind floated elsewhere, I let the door close an inch – enough to scrape the raw skin on my knee. “Shit!” I muffled the word with my hand. But it was too late, I’d accidentally slammed the door shut as well. Stumbling back, I heard Nate’s footsteps immediately bounding up the stairs, his words spearing fear through my heart as he got closer.
“No fucking way. If that’s her I’m gonna fucking kill her right here and now.”
chapter eight
I was pressed against the wall, locked in pure terror as the door flung open. Eyes wild, Nate stood still for a moment of shocked, frantic rage.
Then he flew to me.
“You dumb bitch, tell me who you are now before I – ”
>
Thwack! His head snapped to the side, his hand immediately grabbing the part of his face he’d been hit. My heart hammered. I thought it was Abram but then I registered the sudden pain in my knuckles. Holy shit. It was me. I’d dropped Nate to the ground.
But before I knew it, he was up – and I was flat against the wall, his hands holding my wrists above my head. My cuts burned in his grip but I snarled over his every word. “I had nothing to do with whatever you’re talking about, asshole, so find another person to take it out on because you’ve done far enough to me,” I hissed from my throat as I felt my hands swell. I barely recognized my own voice. But God, I was done. I was so fucking done with being blamed, being scared, being hurt. I was done bearing the brunt of someone else’s downfall.
“You fucking bitch, you don’t fool me for a goddamned – ”
Nate suddenly flung back like a ragdoll. A gasp singed my throat as he practically flew through the air.
That one was Abram.
Frozen, I watched as he hoisted Nate back up by his lapels, tossing him hard against the wall and growling barely an inch from his face. “You have no idea how fucking lucky you are to be Gavin’s blood. I swear to God, if you don’t lay off the blow and calm the fuck down, I will kill you faster than Toro can,” he snarled, snatching the little baggy from Nate’s inside pocket and chucking it aside. I stared at it. Coke. Nate’s face was so red I was afraid it would burst. But when he spoke again, his voice was shockingly small.
“I deserve to end it, too. Like you said, he was my blood.”
“Then shut your mouth and go home,” Abram said calmly, going from sixty back to zero in a flash, as if he did this dance with Nate too often. Though I did hear his low mutter to him on his way out the door: “You threaten her again, I’ll break your arms.” It sent chills down my spine.
