Downing Abbey – Chapter 6

(Lucas)

Uneven whisks of heading-for-home traffic played in the background as we walked through the artsy alley, leaving the bar and the baggage that came with it behind. I had already paid the tab, and was not going to allow her another word about splitting the bill – both out of chivalry and practicality.

The brisk, windy night air rang the butterfly chimes overhung on a rustic, purposefully crooked café sign, and it was the perfect moment for me to warm her with a kiss. ‘Come here,’ I growled, grabbing her wrist and spinning her into me.

That shy smile didn’t escape my notice as I bit into her firm lip, releasing a naked moan that I inhaled with my ears. She was just putty, and it was obvious where this night was headed.

I couldn’t believe that his was the same woman that just minutes ago, was grabbing tissues from every table we passed on our way out to keep up with the tears. I was expecting to go into work tomorrow with bags under my eyes from consoling a crying client, and for a reason that I didn’t understand I was okay with that.

A nervous pang entered my chest, wondering what the hell this all meant, but the warm squeeze of Abigail’s lips made me grunt and return to the present.

That makeshift mistletoe kept us from our destination for several minutes, as passing pedestrians make sure to give our indulgence wide berth. She tasted like candy and kissed like spice, and it wasn’t long before I was hard as a rock.

A shiver and jolting tightness from her arms gave me the opportunity to wrap my jacket around her small frame, which was barely protected by that flappy fabric she called a “summer coat.”

*Fashion over function,* I thought as I shook my head.

‘Sorry about, you know, for ruining your shirt and your handkerchief,’ she said, revealing a cloth, smeared gray with hints of the original blue base poking out from underneath the makeup.

I grabbed her hand and used the other to flag a potential cab. ‘There’s not much to apologize for Abigail. It’s what washing machines are for, and I’ve been carrying that thing around for months now. First time it ever saw any action,’ I said, opening the cab door and after giving her frame a measuring frown, I picked her up and tossed her inside.

‘Where are we going?’ she asked between giggles, holding onto my bicep that I had a hard time keeping relaxed.

‘Wooster and Spring,’ I said both to her and the driver. And of course we found the worst driver in Manhattan. I used the lurching, stop-and-go ride to explore more of Abigail, her mouth especially. I didn’t want to overreach and scare her off, but the way her hands kept pushing mine towards that ass sure made it hard for me to resist.

If our driver noticed anything, he kept it to himself, and I thanked him with a crisp fifty tucked underneath my handshake when we arrived.

‘Let’s get you out of the cold,’ I said to Abigail as I put my arms around her, leading her inside the lobby.

‘Oh my god,’ she said simply, gazing at the high ceilings and oreo walls. ‘You live here. Of course you live here.’

‘Are you talking to yourself or was that a question? And if it was, was it rhetorical?’ I asked, pounding the elevator call, holding onto her waist so that she was going nowhere but with me.

‘It was something of a statement I needed to say to make sure I wasn’t dreaming,’ she laughed. ‘I’ve always wanted to live here, and I guess this’ll give me a taste.’

‘You can taste anything you want, cupcake.’

The elevator doors opened and thankfully, we were entering alone. I usually didn’t find elevators exciting, but I wasn’t going to see them the same way ever again after the two minutes we spent inside. Abigail hooked her leg around my hip and her fingers were woven behind my neck, pulling me down. I buried my face into her neck, pinning her into the corner with an erection against her belly. Heat radiated from her center, and I leaned into it, moaning as I dug my face into her hair. The height was an issue, but touching her was worth every attempt.

I was never desperate for sex, and I was always in control. But this girl had me closing my eyes and losing enough of my peripheral senses to miss the elevator stopping before my floor. In a flash, she tucked under me and stood at arm’s length, clearing the just fucked look off her face while I was left with an open shirt collar and bulging crotch.

An older lady I’ve never met before entered with a smile that was too damn much for this time of day.

‘Heeeeeello! Mighty fine evening isn’t it?’

‘Yes,’ I mumbled, turning sideways so that I could adjust my nearly-ripped zipper. I never realized how choking suit pants could be on my beloved soldier, but I never needed that information before meeting Abigail, who was fresh as a daisy and began conversing with the woman as if they were the building-mates.

‘Do you live here as well?’

‘No, no. Just visiting. This is actually my first time here.’

‘Oh dear, you must go to the farmer’s market that they host by Thompson and
Spring. They have the freshest carrots. Do you like carrots?’

‘Of course! There’s no better pairing with ranch. When are they open?’

‘That’s the tricky part. You have to go very early in the morning on Sundays, before the crowd comes. That’s when you get the best batches. Look here!’

I stood with my mouth slight agape as Abigail ooh’d and aah’d at the photos of fucking carrots on this woman’s smartphone, and couldn’t leave the scene fast enough as the doors dinged open at my floor. Abigail gave “Carol” – which was just too damn close to “Carrot” – an embrace, before exchanging contact information to set up a vegetable run next Sunday.

‘Enough with the produce party, get the hell over here,’ I grumbled low into her ear, hooking her waist from behind and directing her towards my suite. ‘I liked her,’ Abigail sighed into my touch. Her hand whisked back and grazed my reinvigorated erection before clutching my belt, holding me close to her ass, and it felt more right as anything I’ve ever known.

I pushed her against my door, and leaned her head back, tasting her mouth as grinded myself into her. ‘That’s great you made a friend, but no more mentioning of carrot lady. She’s taken enough of your time tonight,’ I snarled as pressed my furthering erecting into her backside.

She stopped for a moment and whisked around, facing me. With eyes that meant business, she said, ‘This isn’t happening in the hallway, Lucas.’

‘Key card,’ I said before invading her mouth again. She was a bossy little thing, but I fucking loved it. ‘In my pocket.’ She dove right in as her hand dug into the wrong pocket, but she didn’t mind scraping around until she found my cock instead. It didn’t matter that two layers of clothing separated our skin. Her touch was raw and feverish, and I kissed into her neck with a muffled groan, shivers of electricity bolting from the tip to the base of my neck, tightening it.

She made sure to take her damn time in the other pocket as well, and by the time the door was open, I was ready to rip her panties clean off. Of course, Abigail wasn’t the type of girl that I usually did this with, so I didn’t mind building up to that, but I didn’t know how much more I could be built up.

I was wrong.

I pulled her onto the couch, her sat astride over me. A palm that began on my chest ended up on my belt, then my crotch, and a squeeze nearly put me over the edge right there. She rubbed, up the shaft, and gave me a shameless smirk that told me she knew exactly what she wanted.

‘This isn’t happening on the couch either,’ she said as she clasped twice more, and at that point I was begging myself to hold it together. ‘When we get to the bedroom, I want a lot of this.’ She gripped me hard. ‘Inside of me.’

‘I have a few ideas of what you want, cupcake,’ I said, rising to lead to way. ‘No complaints here.’ Apparently, short girls were my thing.

Pushy ones too.

Thankfully, the maid service was here earlier in the day, because the Everest of sweats and stale socks wasn’t conducive to me getting any action. The fireplace I managed to start was providing all the heat we needed, but there were more than enough fires between us already.

Abigail was pressed close to me and now, the straps of cotton holding up the dress separating myself and her breasts were sliding off, each inch a countdown to what was underneath. ‘I’m beginning to think blue is my favorite color,’ I said as she revealed her navy and white bra, and that dress was beginning to look like a liability.

I wasn’t one to mind with bras, but this baby needed attention, just like everything else about Abigail. Tracing my fingers along the cup of the silky fabric, I found home base, and attended to her blooming nipple underneath the fabric. She purred against my touch, hands tracing my upper body. A firm pinch had her head lurched back and fingernails biting my chest.

‘Fuck Lucas. Take this thing off of me,’ she groaned, and with one dexterous movement followed by a victorious flick, I had Victoria’s Secret opened and flung across the room. Her taught nipples in my mouth made her squeal and wrap one leg around my waist, but that damn heat from her area was a lighthouse in the night, and my cock was the ship coming home.

I flung her petite frame onto the bed, and if I was sticking to my usual plan of action, was going to slam into her without tasting her at all. There was a sticking-to-the-schedule robotic coldness to that sort of encounter, and there was nothing robotic about Abigail, all hot curves and cherry dipped nipples.

I started at the base of her ankle, and worked myself up towards her navel with soft, punctured kisses that made her sigh and roll those priceless locks against my bedspread. That image alone could have had me soiling myself right there.

Her back arched as I pulled her panties to the side, finding her clit. It was dainty, neat, just like her. My tongue began tracing over the hood, and by the time I worked my way underneath, she was clutching at the sheets with her teeth and both hands.
‘Oh my god,’ she groaned as I dipped my tongue inside of her, and if I was on death row, this would be my last meal. ‘Oh my fucking god.’

‘God can’t make you feel as good as I can,’ I whispered in between licks. ‘You’re going to come for me baby.’

Her breathing deepened as if my words accelerated the process. She was beginning to shiver, but unlike the last time where the cold was the culprit, these were shakes of desire and a message to whoever was lucky enough to be present that she was about to arrive.

‘Luke, stop,’ she whispered as she softened the grip of her fingers in my hair. For a moment I was wondering if I did something wrong. I didn’t get many opportunities to show it off, but I thought that pussy licking was one of my fortes. ‘I want to give the first orgasm to your cock,’ she murmured, biting her lower lip, and that look was just unfair. ‘No offense to your tongue, but don’t make me wait any longer.’

She wasn’t desperate, she wasn’t hurried. She was simply asking for what she wanted, and I was more than happy to oblige.

I began to unbutton myself, but Abigail sat up. ‘Let me,’ she said, smiling up at me. I’d been in this condo for three years, but never had I ever felt quite as home as I did then. She began undoing me, one button at a time, and with each button went a portion of my stress.

The sound of my belt hitting the floor was enough to get be back in the game, and I swear I saw Abigail lick her lips as my pants bunched around my ankles as well, and then the briefs. She scurried a foot backwards, legs tucked underneath herself, observing me. She was all beautiful and nude on my bed, and a thought of waking up to that every morning struck momentarily.

‘I’ve heard that lawyers were known for their big egos but this . . . I guess that stereotype is true in more ways than one,’ she said, eyes circling my cock.

I laughed out loud. ‘Is that good or bad?’ I asked, gaining size at her intrigued gaze.

‘I guess we’ll find out,’ she murmured, opening her arms in invitation, and she didn’t have to tell me twice. Our tongues locked again, and this time, my cock was much happier, not fighting for breath inside the tight trousers. As if it knew it’s true north, it found its way right at her opening, and I squeezed my hips to prevent them from spasming and jutting right inside.

She sensed the eager visitor, and said, ‘Condom.’

It was a lone word, but it was something that brought so much distaste. I hated the damn things. They weren’t natural, and definitely made sex less enjoyable. I grunted as I peeled myself from her milky skin, and grabbed a foil square from the bedside drawer.

Wrapping my unhappy member, I hesitated to bring out the lubricant. While going from fully clothed to being inside of women within sixty seconds was standard protocol for me, the wet gleam on Abigail’s inner thigh announced the slippery fluid might not be required. A finger inside her told me that I was right, and I eased into her, making sure to stop about two-thirds of the way inside.

She gasped as I entered, and her jaw forgot how to close. ‘How is that?’ I asked, desperate for the green light to go all the way. ‘Okay, okay,’ she breathed, ‘It’s fine. I can handle you,’ she said hurriedly, and the matter-of-fact in her tone made me snort out a laugh.

‘If you think this is all of me, you’ve got another thing coming, cupcake,’ I growled into her ear. ‘I’ll go slow, but I’m coming in all the way.’

Her hands wrapped around me tight and nails clawed into my back, leaving marks that felt like they would still be there next week as I sank in even deeper, millimeters at a time. I didn’t mind. I actually preferred it that way, something that I could look at a few days from now and remember what happened tonight.

As if I was going to forget a second of this.

‘Oh. Oh . . .’ her voice hitched, and her legs were squeezing my body tightly, as if she wanted me to stop but she couldn’t let go all at the same time.

‘Is that alright?’ I asked, genuine concern in my voice. I brushed the hair from her face, revealing furrowed brows and a pinched expression, but sure as shit, there was a smile on her face as well.

She looked at me from one eye to the other, as if she was thinking of the perfect thing to say.

‘You’re fucking huge,’ she finally quipped, and we broke out in howling laughter together. It wasn’t eloquent, and it wasn’t original, but I’ve never been so amused to hear that from a woman.

I began moving inside of her, and her hips didn’t want a free lunch, moving rhythmically with me. She was so sweet and so tight, and I wasn’t sure how long I could keep this up for. Her hands were all over the place: my chest, my back, my ass, and then on her own breasts, as she began playing with her own gumdrops, and if I wasn’t sure how long it was going to take me to blow, that little action put my limit at about twenty seconds.

‘Stop that woman, or I’m not going to be able to wait for you,’ I whispered into her ear, the lobe a target for my teeth.

She yanked her shoulder up on instinct, moaning. ‘I was waiting for you,’ she reveled, murmuring a sweet tone.

Waiting for me? Oh my god, this woman was fucking perfect.

‘Well fuck, let go baby,’ I said as I pounded with increased vigor. I pressed the action with every stroke, not giving her a chance to cool down. The heat from her was building, and the little shivers were a clear indication she was right there, and I was right there alongside of her.

‘Luke . . . oh fuck,’ she whimpered as our eyes met, and that was it. Our convulsions found each other, as the shivers became carnal throbs and jerks that signaled our arrival, and I fell right into her.

Our pants and ragged breaths overtook grunts and moans, our legs intertwined as I pushed myself up on my elbows. My hand never left her ass as I withdrew, and we laid there, just being.

‘That was,’ I began between breaths. ‘Fuck, Abbey. I don’t know what to say.’

‘I know. I know,’ she whispered before placing a kiss on my lips. ‘It was probably the best sex I’ve ever had.’

‘The best?’

‘Definitely top five,’ she giggled. ‘Though your bed is definitely the most comfortable. Most guys have box-springs from the nineties.’

‘Let’s not discuss you being on other men’s beds,’ I growled. ‘Let me have the illusion.’

For the next half-hour as we laid there in post-coital bliss I either kept a hand on her breast or an arm draped over her waist – or both. I wasn’t a picky man, and I didn’t need a lot from life, but I *needed* to keep my hands on this woman.

‘Is this the part where I go?’ she asked tiredly, after our heart rate normalized.

‘Don’t you dare leave,’ I grumbled. ‘I’m feeding you tomorrow morning.’

‘Is . . . is that normal for you?’ she asked slowly, voice hoarse from exhaustion. ‘To feed women in the morning?’

‘No,’ I said after a beat. ‘Definitely not. I think that you might be –’

But she was already asleep.

‘ – the first,’ I finished to myself.

It wasn’t a lie. This was unexplored terrain. A goodbye peck and cash for a cab was the typical severance package for my conquests. I believed the process after sex was like pizza delivery: if done properly, it should be over in under thirty minutes. Snuggling was something people didn’t do unless they were in . . . no I didn’t need to freak myself the fuck out right now by going there.

I looked over at Abigail’s sleeping demeanor. It was the most relaxed I’ve ever seen her. I wanted to understand her better, and also why she did this to me, made me think these things.

She was good at saying the right things, but the truth spilled over in her expressions. It gave it away. I wondered who she trusted enough to be completely open. Her parents? Siblings? Best friends? If she has the time for friends, that is. I know my social circle was non-existent outside of my family.

And I hoped she had room for one more in her circle because I desperately needed her in mine.

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/76aab2/downing_abbey_chapter_6