Wrong (34 page)
Authors: Stella Rhys
“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 man 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.
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
.”
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
god
damned –
”
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.
And with that, we were alone.
My mouth parted when Abram turned to me. All that and he wasn’t even sweating, still wearing the hell out of a fitted black sweater and jeans. It felt like there was no air in the room for me to breathe. I kept my body pressed against the wall as he made his way over, his chest still rising high and falling hard from the clash with Nate. But the frown between his brows eased as he got closer. By the time he stood before me, there was nothing but concern in his eyes.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes.” It wasn’t a lie. I might’ve been better than okay. I had dropped Nate tonight. I’d never hit anyone in my life and my first time was a solid punch on a six-foot-two man in a raving, coke-fueled rage. Abram read my mind.
“Pretty nice left hook,” he cracked a smile. I breathed out a laugh. “That was the highlight of my night.”
“Sorry. It shouldn’t have been.”
“What do you mean?”
I didn’t realize what I’d meant till he asked. “I… know you were hoping to have a much different night than what this became.”
And by ‘different night’ I mean a threesome.
Abram smirked. “Right. Those two.” He tucked his hands into his pockets, letting his gaze dip down the front of my tank dress. It was one piece of clothing among the many I’d woken to yesterday, folded on my dresser with all the tags still attached. For bed tonight, I’d chosen the softest one, made of a gauzy beige material. Abram’s unapologetic eyes stared straight through it. “Yeah. I think you’d have been my highlight regardless. Nailed him pretty good,” he smirked, returning his leisurely gaze to me. “Plus, I like the way you look when you’re riding it.”
My lashes fluttered. “Riding – what?”
“Adrenaline.”
Oh
. That made sense. The adrenaline was in fact still buzzing through me but it was too late, Abram’s words already had me picturing a very different kind of riding. I sucked my lip between my teeth, hiding sheepishness as I realized I’d dreamt of exactly that tonight. I’d dreamt right down to the way Abram’s eyes gleamed at me as I bounced on top of him, his lips muttering all those dirty things he’d muttered to me in the shower as I swiveled my hips and filled myself to the hilt. In my fantasy, I’d naughtily watched him come, soaking in the grunting pleasure I’d been the one to bring him to. I remembered every last second of it.
As Abram eyed my flushed cheeks, I prayed to God he didn’t know what I was thinking about. But when he spoke, he sounded every bit like he did.
“I take it you’ll need some time before going back to bed.”
Yes
. I needed relief. On top of the rush of adrenaline, I’d begun to feel a throbbing between my legs – one that deepened when I looked at Abram. His face was relaxed but his body was still in defense mode, his sweater pulled tighter than how it was before Nate came barreling through. He was like a Greek god on Earth. Nate had to be two hundred pounds, plus however much coke-powered voltage, but Abram had pitched him like a baseball.
“Threaten her again and I’ll break your arms.”
He’d spoken the words as casually as someone would say, “
See you next Thursday
.” The thought still gave me chills. I’d never heard anyone stand up so ferociously for me. And I’d never met someone who could so easily follow through with his promise.
“I’ll probably be up for a bit,” I finally murmured, trying to control myself. But I was writhing against the wall. My attraction to Abram was purely physical – I told myself it couldn’t possibly be anything else. But it was so strong I suddenly couldn’t think of anything else besides showing him my gratitude. I was desperate to thank Abram – to relax his body and touch him. Everywhere.
I tried to quell the need by playing with my tank top, wrapping the hem around my fingers. But my lust had ulterior motives and they seemed to be working as I twisted my shirt, stretching the neckline down so far that Abram couldn’t help but look. He lifted a curious eyebrow at me, as if to ask, “
Are you aware that this is happening?”
but soon enough, he didn’t care. His gaze was hot and blatant on my breasts, tracking my neckline the way a bettor would a race. A wry curve twisted my lips as he watched intently. When he caught my look of mischief, he smirked.
“What are you doing?” His eyes returned to my breasts as I shrugged. He groaned a little as they bounced under my top. The sound thrilled me.
“I was hoping to return the favor.”
Abram looked at me. “What favor?” When I hesitated, he smirked and spoke for me. “Making you come all over my hand last night?”
The filthy words off his tongue made me heart pound. “Yes.”
He paused, sizing me up. I could see the instant, animal-like hunger transforming him, making him as intimidating to me as he was so painfully sexy. The way he stood over me emanated pure, primal masculinity and it made my body want nothing but to give. To give him anything he pleased. “You want to make me come, Isla?” Abram’s voice slid over my skin.
“Yes.”
“How would you make me come?”
“However you wanted.” Whatever he wanted, I wanted. I was so desperate to touch him – for him to touch me.
Abram stepped forward so that he was almost on top of me. “Okay.” He dipped his head, his eyes down my shirt. “Go on,” he murmured. “Show me.” It was all he needed to say. With a yank of my shirt, I exposed myself for Abram, making him growl on sight. “
Fuck
.” He dragged his palm down his mouth, his gaze hard on my breasts as they rose and fell, heaving with my every shallow breath. I gave a soft moan. I was half-naked for him and I wanted his hands on me already. Every second that passed without his touch had me more torturously wet than I could handle.
“Touch me,” I murmured. “However you want.”
He eyes seared into mine. “I don’t think you mean that.”
His words sent a wave of goosebumps over my skin. “Why not?”
Abram shifted his weight. “I don’t think you realize,” he eyed me, “how fucking much I’ve been dreaming about this body.”
Oh God, every word he said sent a pang of aching need between my legs. “That’s good,” I breathed desperately as he pressed me into the wall with his abs.
“No,” he thrust his fingers into my hair, “it’s not.”
“Why?”
Abram’s lip curled as he squeezed my fistful of my locks, his other hand ripping my tank dress down my hips with my panties, till both were puddles of cotton on the floor. My pulse rose again when both his hands cupped my breasts, pushing them up and together as he breathed the skin of my neck. “Because I felt that pussy last night. Wrapped around my fingers. Tighter than anything I’ve ever felt in my life,” he rasped. “And if I do exactly what I want to do to you,” he lowered his lips to my breast, “I’ll be thinking way too often,” he sucked my nipple, “about how fucking good my cock felt inside you.”
My jaw dropped as I gasped for air and begged him. I begged breathily for his touch, desperately, endlessly until he pulled an angry, throaty sound deep from his chest. It electrified me as he finally said the words I’d been waiting for.
“Get on the bed.”
I did, exhaling heat when I immediately felt his weight on top of me, his hands undoing his jeans and reaching for his cock. It fell heavily onto my legs, settling between my thighs as he slid his hands under my back to bring my breasts up higher for his mouth. I arched it, moaning as he nibbled me, his smooth helmet pulsing right against my bare pussy. He thrust lightly on top of me, teasing my aching sex. In need, I grabbed a handful of the sheets. But my palms still raw, I gasped in pain and suddenly, Abram was on his feet again.
His eyes blinked hard at my bruises as a sober look drifted into them. I could see a switch flipping.
Fuck. Please, keep going, please.
“Abram – ”
“No,” he cut me off brusquely, facing me with a look that made me feel like a child in trouble. “I’m sorry, Isla.” His voice was cold, hard as stone. “But this is not what this is,” he said before disappearing out the door.
