Page 45 of Captive

“I can want Royal,” Abby tells me, “and you at the same time. We’re all consenting adults here, aren’t we? That’s the only thing that matters. Come on, Hawthorne, don’t leave me now. I’m all worked up, ready to go, and I’m pretty sure you are, too.”

I was so focused on the kiss, on the way her body felt against mine, that I neglected to realize how my own body was responding to hers. Yes, the desire in me is stifling, and that desire led to one thing: a hard cock nestled in my slacks. How on earth I could have not noticed before is beyond me, but now that attention is called to it, that ache in my lower half is unmistakable.

My hands drop to her outer thighs, running along them slowly, measuredly. As I take my time in touching her, I bring something else up, something important: “I don’t have anything here, and I wouldn’t trust myself to—” My face burns with heat. “—pull out in time.”

Something like that might come with loads of practice, but with how badly I want her and how long it’s been, there is simply no way I could time it just right and pull out before I erupt.

“You don’t have to worry about that. I’m covered for another two years, at least. By then, I’m hoping you guys will trust me enough to leave the house.” Abby shrugs. “Let’s just say I don’t know what’ll happen to an IUD that’s left in for too long, but I imagine it’s not good.”

So she’s on birth control. It is a good thing for me, for Royal, but at the same time, I can’t help but imagine her with other men. With how hazy everything is, the logical part of me—the part of me that would grasp that she might’ve only gotten one so she didn’t have to worry about periods or anything like that—doesn’t make an appearance.

Silly as it is, I’m jealous over men that might not exist.

She runs one of her hands down my chest, and I catch my breath when that hand dips lower than my belt. “Come on, I know you want to. It’s obvious.” As she says that, she rubs her hand over the bulge in my pants, and I can’t help but groan in response.

Up until her, my willpower has never been in question. I simply didn’t think about those types of things, but with Abby… everything is impossible. Going on like things used to be is literally impossible. I can’t be the same Hawthorne I was with her; I have to be someone new, someone who’s always been there, beneath my skin, waiting for the right moment to emerge.

All it took was the right person. Just call me a hot chocolate chip cookie straight out of the oven, because I’m crumbling for Abby like I’ve never crumbled before.

“Let’s go to the bedroom and see if we can’t tire each other out,” she goes on, still stroking me over my pants. “I’d say we could do it right here on your desk, but I have the feeling that might be asking too much for our first time.”

She hops off the desk, finally drawing her hand off me, and in doing so she rubs her entire body against mine. She doesn’t say a word more, but she does slip her hand into mine and lead me away from my desk, out of my office, and to the bedroom that used to be mine.

We’re in the dark until we make it to the bedside, where Abby releases my hand so she can lean over the lamp on the nightstand and turn it on. As that dim bulb flickers to life, she turns toward me once more, and the smile she wears is pure lust and desire.

Stepping toward me, she reaches for my belt and says, “Don’t worry. I’ll help you out of these clothes. You have to feel so hot in them. We’ll fix that.” Once my belt is undone, she tugs my shirt out of the waistband of my slacks and starts on the buttons, moving from the bottom-most button upward.

She’s right. I do feel hot. I feel so unbelievably hot you’d think we didn’t have air conditioning in this house.

We do, and we keep it at a nice sixty-nine degrees.

Once my shirt is fully unbuttoned, she helps me out of it, never taking her eyes off me. I wear a thin undershirt, and that comes off, too. With my chest completely bare, she takes both hands and runs them along my body.

I’m not muscled like Royal or even Ezra, but I like to think I’m not bad. I might sit at a desk for the majority of the day, but I’m still pretty lean. Must be my metabolism or something—or maybe it’s because sometimes all I have before noon is coffee.

Abby hums as she works on my pants, and as she pulls them down, she drops to her knees. I step out of them, and she bats them away and peels off my socks, though she never takes her eyes off the bulge in my boxer briefs.

Those boxer briefs? The last thing she takes off, and the very second she slides them down my body, my cock springs free, and just like that I am one hundred percent naked. You’d think not having all those clothes on would cool me off, but no. If anything, I’m hotter than I was before, and I owe that internal heat to the woman on her knees before me.

She continues to take charge by bringing a hand to my cock and stroking me, only having eyes for it now that it’s free. She sends a smirk my way, and then does something I’m not expecting, something I haven’t even thought of.

My thoughts are on sex, of course, but what Abby does next pushes those thoughts away, albeit temporarily. She parts her lips and takes me in, and I can’t help but groan as I watch her head bob along my length, as I feel her wet, warm mouth surround my cock.

Holy…

Shit.

It feels so good. Too good. Too good I can’t think, I can’t do anything but let her go at me however she wants to. She moves her head slowly, using her one hand to keep the skin taut and pulled tight, and the action makes everything feel ten million times better. Every so often her tongue swirls around the tip, and she sucks hard, so hard I feel like she’s sucking the literal cum out of me.

She’s eating me alive, and I love it.

Abby pulls her mouth off my cock and tells me, “It’s okay, Hawthorne. You can moan and say whatever you want. You don’t have to be quiet or anything.”

If she wants to hear me moan, then she’ll hear me moan. Hell, I’m fairly certain if she told me to act like a dog and crawl around on all fours, I’d do it. I’d do anything she says.

As she returns to my cock, I can only watch her for a few moments before I have to throw my head back and let out a low, feral moan. My heart beats faster than it’s ever beaten in my chest. The pleasure is overwhelming, the kind of thing you can’t run from. It instantly threatens to drown me in its embrace, and I can’t get enough.

It’s too much. It is simply too much.