“A guy could get addicted to the way you look at him.”
I quickly busied myself with my box.
Theo laughed. “Is Abigail Crowne shy?”
My cheeks heated, and I lifted the box to cover it. “I’m not shy.”
I’m petrified.
But Theo doesn’t get to know that.
I kept fiddling, pretending like it took more than one second to open a fucking box. Art, that’s what I was focused on. Not Theo’s abs.
Rigid. Cut. Hot.
Suddenly his lips were at my ear, and I couldn’t breathe.
“I promise…” He spoke the words of our game, trailing off as his teeth grazed my ear, barely a bite, the pain a shiver of its own promise for more. “I’ll take all night fucking you.”
He ended on a growl that vibrated through me. My hands shook. His breath was hot on my skin, his body hard against my back.
“I promise by the time I’m done with you, you’ll be ruined for everyone but me.”
Breathe. Remember to breathe.
When his tongue caressed the tip of my ear, I dropped the box entirely. He grabbed it, reflexes so fast, but didn’t cease licking me, kissing me, sucking on me, until the room faded, and all I knew was him.
When he was done devouring my ear, and I was sufficiently putty, he handed the porcelain box back to me.
“But we’ll go at your pace, nice and slow.”
He grinned, then made his way to my bed. Feathers from my massacred pillows lingered on the floor, and my mattress was askew on the frame, but he lay on it without so much as a blink, and something about that made him even hotter, sitting among his carnage like nothing.
There was something in my hands. I looked at my jewelry with foreign interest. Why did I have this? What was my name again?
Oh. Right.
I took a seat on the edge of my destroyed bed, afraid my legs would stop working. Jewelry, I said to myself, show Theo my jewelry. I repeated it like a mantra.
“Do you know why I want to go slow?” I didn’t respond, but he didn’t care. “Seeing you like this is fucking hot, Abigail. It’s the greatest foreplay. Wide-eyed and without walls. No more lies. But that lip.” He zeroed in on it. “Bite it again and I might change my mind.”
My eyes met his as he adjusted himself. There went my thoughts again. Even through his jeans, I could see the outline of him.
I wetted my lips. “Aren’t your jeans wet?”
“Are you trying to get me naked, Abigail?”
“No,” I said too quickly. He was still drenched in wine and it had to be uncomfortable—maybe a naked Theo crossed my mind.
His grin spread. All white teeth. Somehow both sweet and vicious, carnal and loving. All Theo. I nearly sighed. I missed his smiles.
Theo slid his zipper down—an act that was far too sensual—then slipped out of his jeans and tossed them to the floor. I briefly thought about all the stains. Dark wine on my perfect white satin sheets, now on my plush feathery rug. I loved it. A dark, twisty part of me wanted the memory of him forever.
Theo grabbed a joint from his discarded jeans, and with the snick of the match, something inside me lit ablaze as well.
A joint.
I swallowed, trying not to read too much into it.
He was in nothing but satin-looking gray briefs, and once again I was distracted. They clung to roped thighs, and if I thought he was hard in his jeans, it was nothing to now.
My throat dried.
His laugh filled the room like the butterflies in my stomach.
I forgot showing him my jewelry. I forgot everything. Theo had one arm folded behind his head, bicep popping and carved, muscles I didn’t even know catching the fading sunlight. Wine drenched strands of hair, dripping down onto his full lip, as he smoked with his free hand.
He blew out a puff, watching me with an intensity that stunned me, drew me in, until it was nothing but us.
Theo Hound was art.
Hedonist. Hellish. Art.
I dropped my jewelry, and it fell with a clatter of beads and sea glass and silver to the floor. I crawled atop him. He kept smoking, blowing in and out, but if it was possible, the look in his eyes sharpened further. Musky smoke enveloped us in a warm haze, softening us, but through it all, his eyes were clear.
I stopped just before his jaw, his sharp, smooth jaw. Nerves strangled my stomach. I could feel him hard and digging into my stomach. This was Theo. This wasn’t some random asshole. I cared desperately what Theo thought of me.
Heat blazed in his eyes.
I wanted to kiss him so badly.
So of course I distracted myself.
“I don’t remember,” I said. It was barely a whisper. Theo arched a brow at my non sequitur. “Giving you this bracelet,” I explained.
He blew out smoke. “You were small.”
His hand settled casually yet possessively on the back of my thigh, just beneath my ass. I swallowed air. I wanted him so badly I felt like I was going to combust. All the while Theo just watched me.
As if the memory came back to him, a small smile tugged his lips. “Little Abigail Crowne, in black jeans, a fur vest, and leather boots… an outfit that cost so much it could probably get me off the streets. You know what I remember most?”
His thumb grazed the underside of my ass. Slowly. Easily.
“What?” I couldn’t breathe.
“You had the same fucking look in your eyes. Lonely…” His eyes softened. “But so damn tenacious. I thought you were going to hand me money, but you gave me a fucking bracelet. I was hungry, so I was pretty pissed.”
As he told the story, it came back to me. We’d spent the day at Crowne Point Day Camp, a nonprofit camp set up by Mom and Dad. It was only for appearances, and the last time I ever went somewhere like that, but I got to make a friendship bracelet. I didn’t have a best friend to give the bracelet to, but I loved the thing. It was the first thing that was mine, not Abigail Crowne’s, but mine. Still, when I saw him, I wanted to give it to him. I don’t know why. Maybe my heart knew what my mind didn’t.
I guess I’d latched on to that feeling, even if I didn’t remember its inception. From that point on I made jewelry until I reached an age where I had to start hiding it from my mother.
A Crowne isn’t a petty craftsman.
I did it in secret, and it saved me. I was so young—so young I forgot Theo—all I remembered was that feeling. I forgot the boy who played an integral part of the dream that saved me from disappearing into Abigail Crowne.
I stared at him with newfound amazement.
His thumb traveled higher, into my linen floral shorts and sliding over my panties, and I could barely get out my next words. “You kept it.”
“I kept it.”
His thumb disappeared too soon, now using the arm to wrap around my waist, sliding me higher, pushing me against his dick.
Hard.
Rock hard. And he felt like heaven between my legs, hitting that aching spot, making me ache even more but in a delicious way.
I couldn’t stop the moan that dripped from my lips. At the sound, he pressed his head against my headboard and groaned. I think I could get addicted to that sound. Rough, a little strangled and pained. My eyes dropped to his lips, waiting to hear it again.
“Condom?” he asked, voice rough. His head was still against my quilted headboard, only dropping his gaze to meet mine.
“I don’t have any condoms,” I said. “I mean… I just… I never…”
I mean, I did, but I bought them when I was sixteen.
Theo lifted his head, brow furrowing. “You’re really a virgin?”
I looked away. “If we’re going by heteronormative norms, but I’ve done everything else so—”
His lips were on mine.
He tasted like wine and smoke and sex, like some heathen god. His kiss was soft but unyielding, and it was over too soon. He broke off, my eyes still closed.
“You just said heteronormative.” He ca
ressed my cheek with the knuckle of the hand that held his joint. “Careful, Abigail, someone might figure out there’s more to you.”
I didn’t get a chance to respond, because then his hand disappeared from my waist, and he was sliding up my thigh, into my shorts, fingers pushing aside my panties, spreading me. Breath left me in gusts, my fists curling into his chest.
God, the way he watched me… it was intoxicating. He drank me in like the wine clinging to his skin, registering my smallest movements, the quietest sigh. All with one finger, all while he smoked, the air growing thicker and hazier.
Every bit of his focus was on me, and that made me feel worthy.
“Please.” I wasn’t sure what I was asking for, but I knew I needed something.
His green eyes narrowed slightly, a barely-there smile hooking his right cheek.
“Abigail Crowne.” He stamped out the joint on my nightstand, eyes still locked. “There’s no going back from this.”
Seventeen
THEO
We collided like atoms.
Tongue, teeth, and bruising lips. Abigail ripped at my clothes, tearing and stretching my shirt, fingers flying from my hair to my shoulders, nails biting into my flesh.
It’s so fucking hot.
It’s not right.
“Slow, sweet girl,” I said softly against her lips, pressing her down on my cock, spreading her thighs around my hips.
I was aching to be inside her, but this is her first time—our first time. The night can’t end quick and dirty. So even if we explode into a billion pieces tomorrow, when she puts them back together, I’ll be inside her forever.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I said. “Let me make you feel good.”
I kissed Abigail like I should’ve years ago, memorizing her with my tongue, marking her with my bite, not even breaking as we shoved her shorts past her hips. I couldn’t help my smile when she finally got out of them, tossing them to the feathered floor. For the world, Abigail was black and red lace. For me… she’s cotton polka-dot panties.
Next went her silky shirt, thrown over her head. My touch feathered the clasp of her bra, still tonguing and consuming her even as the lace slipped off her shoulders, falling to the bed.
I froze.
Fuck.
Shit.
I’d imagined Abigail since the day she picked me up—got a view of it briefly when she threw her pajamas at me—but it was never like this. Without anger, willingly, about to give me everything.
She’s everything.
Soft, so soft, with a smattering of barely-there freckles along breasts perfect to palm and massage and suck and bruise. I ground my jaw, fighting the urge to flip her beneath me, slam my dick into her, and taste every inch right then.
Tonight we’d go slow, tonight she sets the pace.
“I know it’s nothing you haven’t seen already…” She trailed off. “You and everyone else…” Abigail looked away, swallowing.
I traced the bob of insecurity she could never hide from me, gliding my finger from her throat, down between her breasts, until I could edge the cotton seam of her panties. Her breathing picked up with my movements, and goose bumps pebbled her breasts.
Gorgeous. Distracting. I’d map them with my tongue, then lick them away, one by one.
But she still wouldn’t look at me.
I lifted her chin, dragging her to me, our foreheads pressed, until I could taste her truth like sweet candy on my tongue.
All I’ve ever wanted was to make Abigail feel safe, special. To give her a taste of what she gave me.
I captured her lips, and say against them, voice hoarse, “No one has seen this.”
Don’t hide from me, I nearly say. With me, you’re perfect. With me, you’re always enough.
But something stops me. Feathers floated around us, the discarded reminder that not everything is perfect.
Our eyes connected and I gripped her ass with both hands, hiking her up my body, slamming her lips against mine. It was faster, more furious. Even though she was still in panties, she was so wet, getting all over my fucking cock, drenching my gray underwear black. I slid my hands up her thighs, stretching her panties, spreading the cotton between her pussy lips and rubbing it against her clit until she broke from our kiss on a groan that went straight to my dick.
“Fuck, Abs,” I said, dragging her bottom lip out with my teeth. “Get out of these goddamn panties.”
I sucked on her neck, watching as she shimmied out of them. Each movement rubbed against my dick. I wonder if I’ve been dropped into a dream as Abigail slowly revealed her round, peachy ass. When her pussy spread on my thigh as she kicked off the last of her polka dot panties, I’m sure of it.
Abigail fucking Crowne, spread, naked, and all mine. I didn’t give her a second to breathe, crushing her back against me. I slid my finger into her pussy from behind, priming her for my dick.
She gasped at the fullness, before biting down on my neck. Hard.
I groaned.
Fuck.
I want her marks all over me.
I teased another finger near her entrance, smearing her wetness all over my finger, all over her. She pushed back on me with a whimper that made my dick punch at the seams of my gray boxer-briefs.
“You want that, sweet girl?” I punctuated my question by barely thrusting inside her heat. “You want more of me?”
She nodded, nails digging into my shoulder.
In my wildest dreams, I never imagined it would be like this. Abigail was so tight and wet, dripping down my hand. She made sweet, stuttering gasps and quiet moans.
Never imagined how goddamn hard I’d get.
“I’ve almost memorized everything about you,” I said casually, sliding a second finger inside her. The quiet moan that dripped from her lips was pure goddamn heroin. I slid out, only to push a third finger in. When her mouth opened around a wide O and she struggled to form any sound, I knew right then I’d spend the rest of the night chasing that high.
“Soon I’ll know it all. I’ll know every goddamn way to get you to make these sounds. Only me.”
“Only you,” she breathed, sounding disoriented.
I paused at her words only for a second. Then I slid out, gripping Abigail’s chin with fingers still wet from her, eyes locked.
“Take my underwear off,” I rasped.
Abigail didn’t need to be told twice, pushing my underwear off with shaky hands. When my cock sprang out hard on my stomach, she gaped. She eyed my hard cock, lips parted, tongue slightly out.
Abigail sat back on her heels, thighs spread around my hips, and I could see everything—every glistening fold, every bead of sweat lining her golden abdomen.
“One more out, Abs,” I said. “Once I get you back down here… no promises.”
Still, I was no saint. I palmed my cock, encouraging that dark look in her eyes. Abigail took her lower lip between her teeth.
Fuck.
I’ll never be able to look at that lower lip the same way again. I’ll start encouraging all her bad decisions.
In answer, her fingers slid along my cock, whisper light. I threw my head back on a groan and she threw me a mischievous smile.
“Playing around, Reject?” I grabbed her wrist, dragging her back to my chest, spreading her pussy against my cock. Our groans wove into one wicked melody.
Her fingers dove into my hair, tangling the strands. “Theo…”
Her clay eyes met mine, bright with need.
I reached off the bed, fishing for a condom from the pocket of my discarded jeans. If it was possible, the dark, hungry look in her eyes as I slid it over my cock made me even harder.
Something about fucking Abigail on a mattress I’d ripped open to spill her secrets seemed… inevitable. Our twisted, brutal destiny.
I placed my hands on her soft, honey thighs, notching my thumbs in her hipbones, lifting her up so she could reposition herself on my cock.
“Ready, sweet girl?” I asked.
“Yes,” she whispered, biting that lip so hard I could see the white.
I pushed the hair out of her eyes. “It’s just you and me, Abs. Go slow.” I slid one hand away from her hip, thumbing her clit. “This is my pussy now and I plan on using it whenever the fuck I want. Go too fast and hurt yourself, and I’ll be pretty damn disappointed.”
I released her clit and she fell forward on a breath, catching herself on my abs, fingers splayed. She blinked up at me, swiping her tongue across her bottom lip, then nodded.
I pushed a sweep of hair still veiling her from me back behind her ear. “Good girl.”
Beneath long, feathery lashes her eyes found mine, and she gave me the prettiest, sweetest, close-lipped smile.
Goddamn, that smile.
She wiggled, spreading and taking me in just a little. Her lips parted on a sharp, surprised gasp. At the same time, something too deep to be a groan rumbled out of my chest.
Hot, wet—perfect.
Now this was an image I’d never forget. Abigail Crowne struggling to lower herself on my dick, her pretty pussy spreading to accommodate me. She dug her nails into my flesh as wisps of her silky hair floated across my chest.
The look on her face will forever be etched into my memory, most of all. Lips parted, caught on a breath, eyes locked on mine.
“Breathe,” I soothed, voice rocky.
Abigail took a shaky, musical breath, moving another torturous inch, then froze, eyes growing, nails pricking my lower abs.
“Abigail?” I asked, trying to keep the strain in my voice hidden.
It was fucking cruel torture to stop. I can’t decide if pausing on the image of me being swallowed by her is some kind of heaven or of some kind of hell.
At the same time, I’m worried it’s too much. I’m too big, and it hurts.
“I don’t want to do it wrong,” she blurted. Her eyes popped as if she’d let something slip, and she looked away, blushing hard.
Fuck, Abigail without walls was addicting.
Dangerous.
I laughed. “You can’t do it wrong.” I reached out, threading my palm in her hair, grasping her head, dragging her to me. “You could break my goddamn dick, Abigail. It still wouldn’t be wrong. Not with you.”
Heartless Hero Page 15