Gods & Monsters(31)

“Yeah?” He throws me a lopsided smile. “I was thinking the same thing.”

“Really?”

“No. I was thinking how hot your little mouth is and how I wanna fuck it with my tongue right now.”

A shiver skates down my spine. Hot and burning, I hit his shoulder. “Abel. That’s…”

“What? Inappropriate?”

“Duh.” I blush.

“How about if I say I wanna make love to your mouth with my tongue? Is that better?”

I’m fighting to not smile. It’s a battle that I lose in about three seconds. “Then I’d say…” I lean into him and whisper in his ear, with a boldness I barely feel. “Less talking and more fucking.”

He shudders and gapes at me with shock, and I grin at him. His eyes smolder and he moves his hands from the door and settle them where they belong, on my waist. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re bossy, Pixie?”

I wind my arms around his neck and toe off my shoes, freeing my feet, and get up on his bare ones. “Yeah, my boyfriend.”

Chuckling, he swoops down and kisses me. I sigh into his mouth and he hums into mine. It’s a kiss that I’ve been waiting for my whole life, it seems. I trace my hands all over his body, shoulders, chest, stomach. I feel his soft t-shirt, trying to commit it to memory so I can relive this moment when I’m alone in bed tonight and every night for the next four weeks.

He does the same. His big hands move all over my back, my tiny waist, bunching my dress. His fingers pinch the flesh on my butt and travel down to my thighs, forcing me to lift up my leg and wrap my calf around his hip.

Moaning, he cups my cheeks, and maneuvers my face the way he wants so he can deepen the kiss. I don’t know how long our lips collide, but by the time we come up for air, we’re rocking against each other and my hands are under his shirt, my nails digging into his stomach.

We draw huge amounts of misty and hormone-infused air. Somehow, I can feel his heart beat against my palm, even though I’m nowhere near his chest. His dick is pressing against my wet core, making me realize how long it’s been since he touched me there, how long has it been since I touched him.

I move against him, my fingers itching to feel his warm, velvety dick. He shudders, his hold around me going tight. The pleasure down there is sharp, so sharp, like a fist is weighing down on my pelvic region. His jeans scrape so good against my thighs.

This is it. This is the moment. I wanna go all the way.

I’ve been such an idiot, denying him, torturing him. I don’t want to play power games. I just want him. I want him to take it because it’s his anyway.

“Abel –”

“You hungry?” he rasps.

“What?”

He smiles, even though his eyes still hold the intensity of moments ago. He slowly disentangles our bodies, lowers my dress gently and tucks my snarly hair behind my ears. But the mess our kiss made inside my body, the buzzing, the lust, the throbbing nipples… I don’t know how I’ll manage to put that back together.

I’m confused. What’s happening?

“Want some grilled cheese?” He steps back.

“I… What?”

“Lemme make you some grilled cheese.”

With that, he pads over to his small kitchen, and I’m left shivering, my head a mess. What just happened? Did he… Did he reject me?

My heart curls up in my chest, thinking… What if I took it too far and he doesn’t want me anymore?

My Pixie is a cock-tease.

Is he mad at me about that? Well, I’m not anymore. Gosh. I want him. I want to do it. But how do I tell him this? Maybe I can take my clothes off and stand naked? That should send him a clear message.

Ugh. No. I can’t do that. I’m not that brave or crazy.

Dejected, I look around the apartment. It’s a studio with a small kitchen on one side, couch in the middle and his bed taking up the other side, by the window. It’s simple and functional. Nothing fancy. Rough and unpolished, like the boy who lives here. Though it is a little untidy. Despite myself, I smile at the heaps of clothes on the floor, the unmade bed with pillows strewn about.

My Abel is a slob.

As I walk further in, I pick up his clothes from the floor and dump them in the laundry bag that sits right by his dresser. I straighten his dirty sneakers and push them under the bed. It makes me giddy, doing these little things for him.

I stand in the middle of the room while Abel works in the kitchen, his broad back and his arms flexing as he flips the sandwich on the pan, making it sizzle. In this moment, I can see the future. Me and him together. I’ll be doing the cleaning, of course, because I can’t cook at all. Though I’ll make him all the apple pies he wants. Sometimes we’ll order in and sometimes he’ll cook for me. We’ll have a house somewhere, with a big backyard and a tree and a swing. He’ll give me a push and I’ll touch the sky. He’ll kiss me and I’ll feel the sun.

In four weeks, I’ll tell my parents and then my life will change for the better. We’ll get married and live together. I do have a scholarship to a college a couple of hours away from here. They have a great writing program so I’ve been excited about going. I know Abel will follow me; he’s made all the plans about it. But I’m not so sure I want to go anymore. I want to give our love a chance to grow; college can happen later. But whatever. I haven’t fully decided yet. I have time.