Saving Abel (Rocker Series)

by Gina Whitney

  Gina Whitney

  Text copyright © 2014 Gina Whitney

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  All Rights Reserved in accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher or author constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from this book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at hoopdreams128@aol.com. Thank you for your support of author’s rights.

  FBI Anti-Piracy Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of a copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to five years in federal prison along with a fine of $250,000.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Library of Congress Number: 201491185

  Cover design May I designs, Regina Wamba

  Edited by: Elizabeth Llewellyn

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  The Dungeon I

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  The Dungeon II

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  An enormous shout out and thanks to Our Last Night

  Acknowledgements

  Video Playlist

  For The Reader

  About The Author

  Gina’s Books

  Dedication

  To all my badass bitches. We don’t chase em’. We replace em’.

  You can close your eyes to what you don’t want to see, but you can’t close your eyes to the things you don’t want to feel.

  —Unknown

  The Dungeon I

  On ecru initialed paper the understanding was brutally clear … You’re to be blindfolded and waiting on your knees for your Master. I reread a couple of times, my hands shaking with both fear of the unknown and the excitement of being delivered to the brink of aching pleasure. Man, I was fucked!

  Folding the note in half perfectly seaming the edges, I wondered if I was biting off more than I could chew. The fluttering in my stomach mounted to upchuck levels as I picked up the Hermes silk scarf. I gentled it along my check before breathing in his alpha scent. Him. My eyes closed of their own accord, heart beating in concert with my pussy. My clit was charged and primed already with my juices, the inner demonness scratching the surface of my psyche, relentlessly thrashing against confinement.

  Twirling around in a sexual dream-state, my eyes took in floor-to-ceiling windows, lush drapes pulled back. Gasping heavily, I held my hand over my heart to keep the fucker in there. Was he planning to take me in the open—voyeur delight? I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. Then again this was about surrendering. A place my control had no say.

  On the left was a free-standing bar, his guitar leaning against it. Chrystal decanters lined the top. Amber-colored courage called out to my parched throat, begging, needing something to quell the tremors plaguing my body. I couldn’t. Could I? Or was that breaking the rules? I couldn’t afford to piss him off, nor did I want to. I wanted to please him, to hand over the keys to my soul for him to take up occupancy. I needed to take purchase of the prime piece of real-estate—his heart.

  Old demons besieged me with their clever mind tricks, fighting their way to the surface—sneering that I would lose the man I’d come to love because of my deceitful heart. The mother of all motherfucking karma’s was going to bite my ass—hard. I needed to lock these incessant nauseating thoughts where they belonged—behind a door that had no moral key and slam it shut.

  Looking to the left, I saw the fire raging in the pastoral-styled fireplace. Above me, the erotic portrait of Abel loomed. In one hand he was holding a set of handcuffs, and in the other a red scarf—the exact red scarf I was now holding in my hand.

  Perfect spot! Unbuttoning my pants and blouse, letting them both pool at my feet, I then took off my bra and panties. Flames licked my skin, helping to ease the goose bumps stepping out all over my body. Double-knotting the scarf, I lowered myself to my knees, thankful for the plush carpet. I sent a silent prayer of gratitude upwards—even though God had no place here today. Today, I would be rejoicing, reveling in and partaking of rituals practiced by heathens.

  Tempering my breathing, I thought to myself: Namaste. But then the squeak of the door knob stopped all thought—all thinking—sending a shiver down my spine. His innate maleness seeped into my pores, cocooning my skin in his alpha scent—marking my heart as his. Instantly, my body recognized him. An unwilling groan escaped me as my nether regions clenched in anticipation. He just chuckled.

  “Very good. I see you followed my directions flawlessly. I see that beautiful pussy’s shaved bare for me. This pleases me, Gia. And you will see how much very shortly. But, are you ready for your Master? If I part your folds, will you be slick and hot for me?” His warm breath tickled my ear.

  My mouth opened and closed a few times like a fish out of water, until I finally croaked out, “Um, yes. I, um. I believe so, Abel.” Christ, why was I reduced to a stuttering adolescent? He was fucking dangerous and hot, that was why! Steeling myself, I needed to woman the fuck up and show him who I really was.

  Palming my chin he spoke gruffly. “Love, when we’re in this setting, I am your God, bringer of pleasure and pain.” He released me, clearly awaiting my praises.

  “Yes, Sir. I understand perfectly,” I affirmed. My body chilled, knowing the moment he stepped away. The ring of the crystal decanter signaled loudly in the air. Rolling shudders had me clenching—hard. Moments ticked by at a snail’s pace, and I wanted to rip my hair out, my frustration building as he took his time, leaving me in this vulnerable position. He swallowed his drink. Padding back over in my direction, he brought that delicious signature scent of his my way. It smelled of musk and something wild I couldn’t put my finger on.

  “I’m going to taste you now,” he declared. What? Christ on a motherfuckin’ cross! Two thick fingers teased my clit round and round, spreading my silky juices along my seam, preparing me for his invasion. I held my breath. What else could I do?

  “You smell like you want to be fucked.” He smiled appreciatively. “Breathe, Gia. Your God would like to sample you. I want to commit your taste to memory. Savor you on my tongue. Swallow your goodness,” he rasped, leaning into my ear. I wanted to scream just do it already. His beard scruffed against my face as he lowered his mouth down to my ear. Every breath, every heartbeat, every swallow, was mine, here. I had a front row seat to an erotic movie I was starring in.

  Holding my shoulders firmly with his left hand, he roughly entered my opening. One breath in, one long breath out. With precision, he inserted two fingers inside me, keeping his thumb on my trigger. I ground against his palm. />
  “You will not come—yet. Stay still or I’ll stop,” he affirmed. Well, that did it! I needed release and needed it now. Fuck. Squeezing my eyes tightly, I was thankful for the blind-fold. He had to see how challenging this was for me. With a final stretching thrust he vacated my pussy. Pussy juice permeated the air, releasing another gush of wetness. His sucking sound ended with a loud pop, followed by a growl of approval.

  “Taste.” He fisted my hair, driving his fingers into my open mouth.

  “Taste how sweet your pussy is?” he queried. I had the perfect opportunity to bring him to his knees. My tongue languidly snaked its way around his fingers, sucking greedily any remaining ambrosia—with my own kickass resounding pop. Umm… I purred my contentment.

  A seismic roar rumbled its way free from his alpha chest. Oh, he was affected. Breaking dominant control momentarily, he lunged forward, fisting my hair, his tongue forcing my mouth open. Damn this Dom! My lungs fought for air. My hands braced against his muscled chest, alive with the vibrations from the beast tethered within—Abel. Dizziness threatened to take me under. Pulling air into my nose, I took a deep breath. Consuming me from the inside out, he didn’t let up. Apparently, my survival was to be damned. Now I needed to return his kiss. My hands found their way up his neck to his thick hair. Grabbing a fistful, I pulled. He answered my call with his masterful tongue and gnashing teeth. Needing his cock in my pussy now, I reached for it, feeling its thick steeliness through his jeans. He gently removed my hands. Disappointed, I lowered my head, taking the opportunity to nourish my blood with oxygen. He forced my hands behind my back. I sat on the back of my knees to steady myself.

  “You have to earn that, babe. You haven’t earned my cock yet. And he has a bigger ego then I do.” He chuckled as he stood up, leaving me again. Was he serious? His dick had an ego?

  Some shuffling of drawers opening and closing to my left had me turning my head in that direction. My legs tingled with anticipation and lack of activity. I hoped I wasn’t going to be on my knees too much longer. The snap of something caught my immediate attention. Licking my dry lips, swallowing the golf ball-sized knot, I readied myself. Sweet-smelling leather assailed my senses.

  “Do you know what the Cat o’ nine tails is, Gia?” he asked. I had done some googling before this night, so I wouldn’t be ignorant to basic BDSM—knots, whips and positions 101. I had schooled myself quickly.

  “Yes, Sir. A traditionally favored whip with nine separate tails,” I qualified. Quirking a smile, I awaited his answer. He replied by running the tails along my breasts … down to my pussy … snapping my clit to attention. Over and over again my body became acquainted with this new form of torture. Legs shaking, I thrust myself to an upright position, hoping this little exercise would stop this embarrassing bodily display of minor earthquakes. No such luck. My body wanted to surrender to its Master. My breathing ratcheted to panic-attack levels. An explosion of epic proportions was near. Whack!—across my behind. Ow! Fuck me!

  “Not nearly yet, sweetheart. That nice shade of red on your ass is making me hard as fuck, though,” he countered. Well, that’s not how I really meant it, but that’s exactly what I wanted—right the fuck now. He was turned on. And that turned me on. If his lash marks on my skin did it for him, I thought—then so be it.

  “I want to taste you, Master. It’s only fair.” I was practically whining: throw me a fucking bone! This BDSM shit was killing me. I was not a patient person by nature. So I deserved a reward for the restraint I’d been practicing today. The sound of his zipper lowering caught my attention. The lava started to trickle down my legs again.

  “Is this what you want, pretty girl?” He stepped up, smearing his pre-come on my lips. I moaned embarrassingly loud.

  “Yes! More!” I demanded. He presented his cock to my tongue. It stroked his piercings. Fuck me.

  Expertly I lavished it with my tongue, paying homage to this rock God. Maybe his cock deserved its own zip code? This was a locale I wanted to move to—like, now. Pushing forward I sought his engorged balls. Licking, flickering, and tonguing at break-neck speed to the best of my ability, I made him roar. He ripped the scarf off, freeing my eyes from their prison.

  Although my sight was restored, I still couldn’t see clearly. Squinting, I looked up towards his beautiful face—and even through the blurriness, I could tell that it was twisted in agony. He needed release. His eyes sparking with warning, he looked as if his thread-like hold on reality was virtually nonexistent. A sardonic smile wrenched his lips as he continued stroking his cock. Up. Down. Up. Twist. Down. Release. Up. Twist. Down. Release. His left hand squeezed his tightened sack roughly, his eyes glistening. His tongue snaked out to wet his plump lips. His sooty-lashed eyes closed for a moment as he blew out a long breath, battling for control. I gulped—hard. Something sparkly caught my upturned eyes, bringing my gaze back to his sack.

  “Like what you see, babe?” He smiled proudly. His tatted cock was a kaleidoscope of vivid colors. The body of the dragon was done in green with the underside in orange scales, the whole length of his cock ending with the dragon’s head on his dick-head. His Apadravya shone brightly against the dragon’s head, looking like it was coming out of its mouth. His Mons provided the backdrop for the wings. He was a work of art I intended to worship fully. I tilted my head awkwardly left, then right. The head of his dick was pierced, and all along the dragon’s scaled underside were generous loops.

  “Ya like those frenum loops, babe? Ya like that one through the head, the Apadravya? You’ll be thanking me soon for it.” His toothy smile made me blush at my naiveté. He took my lip-licking as a signal for further instruction in How to Suck Abel’s Cock 101.

  “Relax. Open real wide. Get it nice and wet,” he instructed.

  Relaxing my gag reflex as per his orders, I readied my throat for his invasion. Not only did I have to worry about his girth, but I had to guard against his hardware as well. My mouth was desert-dry, so I pursed my lips to conjure up enough saliva to get the job done. The wide tip of his cock made its way past my lips, netting a groan from me of appreciation for this male, as I lavished the small beads of pre-come on my tongue, relishing his heady taste. God damn. His hooded eyes caught mine as I acquiesced. I closed my eyes and sucked his head hard with a quick swirl around his Apadravya. I spit into my palm, pumping his cock once. Twice. His throaty groan made my clit swell. I loved his male sounds. I knew I was doing this right. I wanted more. More of him. More of that noise. Widening my mouth even further, I took his cock in deeply, paying close attention to his frenum loops with my tongue. The jingling within my mouth had me shuddering. Up. Down. Twist. Suck. Tongue. Up. Down. Twist. Suck. Gag. Up. Down. Twist. Suck. Gag. His fingers found their home, deeply embedding in my scalp, the pain making my eyes mist. Licking from base to tip, I was on repeat. His eyes bored into me, watching me intently, appreciatively.

  So I gave him one final swirling suck, letting my lips pop loudly. Then I tried the impossible: to swallow him whole. Breathing through my nose, I watched. He watched. I swallowed. The thickness of his cock swelling was all the indication I needed. He was ready to blow—hard. My throat relaxed and opened to accommodate his girth further. Abel hissed and thrusted deeply. Once. Twice. Three times. He growled loudly, face-fucking me into oblivion. Surprising even myself, I swallowed his gift of spicy goodness, humming my appreciation to this deity. Swallowing it down and tongue-sucking his Apadravya, I inwardly smiled as I milked every last drop of elixir.

  With a final groan I fell back and let the fibers of the rug absorb my fatigue. Mentally and physically, I was wiped out. I rubbed my fingers through the filaments, trying desperately to soothe my restless soul. At the moment, I didn’t care where he was or what he was doing. His gentle fingers caressed my cheek. I closed my eyes, savoring his touch.

  “Oh babe, we’re not done. Come, I’ll carry you to my bedroom.” He bent down and scooped me up. Swaddled in his arms, I caught the look in his hooded eyes. A few long stride
s, and we were in his room. He gently laid me on his king-sized bed, then stepped back.

  “I’m gonna take a quick shower. Care to join?” He motioned his hand to the bathroom in invitation.

  “Nah, I’m good here for now. You go. If I change my mind, I’ll find you.” I smiled sleepily.

  He nodded and left through the en-suite. Raising myself up on my forearms, I took in the room. Monochromatic black and white made up a majority of his palate choice, aside from his poppy-red silk shantung comforter. Everything was simple, yet elegant. It was clear that Abel sought the comfort of home and all of his familiar possessions. I guessed life on the road really was lonely.

  Cocooning myself in the lush bedding, I concluded there was no better place to be. And no better thing than his scent. Lord above, if I could bottle his essence, I’d be a wealthy chick. Grabbing his pillow I brought it to my nose, inhaling his heady alpha smell. A groan escaped me, and my clit was beyond engorged: it needed release—again. I needed to steal this pillow.

  “Enjoying yourself?” he asked, his smile reaching his eyes. I cursed inwardly. Busted. He reached for my legs and pulled me across the bed. Holy shit. His eyes were alit with mischief. He pulled me until my bottom was at the end of the bed. I laid there naked and began to feel self-conscious. I turned to grab the edge of the comforter.

  “Don’t hide your body from me, Gia. Spread your legs for me. I want to see what’s mine. I want to taste your nectar,” he commanded—and I obeyed, spreading my legs.

  When he didn’t respond, I grew anxious. There was a mirror on the wall next to the bed and I could see my reflection in it. What a turn-on. Me watching him—us, as his eyes devoured my pussy. He removed his towel from his waist and turned to see me watching tentatively in the mirror. He grabbed hold of his thick cock, stroking and smiling, as he watched me for a good long-ass minute. This was all one big mind fuck—and I was barely holding my own. My blood boiled while I watched his erotic exhibition. Boy, was he ever a showman. He knelt down and seized both my thighs, pulling them back into a V across my chest. The image of us in the mirror was arousing. He pressed his nose along my pussy, inhaling deeply.