6. Tatum

CHAPTER 6

TATUM

I don't know that I've ever felt more comfortable in my life than I do at this very second. I'm in my childhood bed, lying almost naked next to Abi. He hasn't moved a muscle in the past twenty minutes. Even though my bladder is close to bursting, the discomfort isn't unwelcome. The pressure reminds me this is real and not the work of a vicious fever dream.

Married.

I'm married to this big, strong, strapping, annoying man. Part of me wants to slit Scotty's throat for what he's done, but there's another part—a much smaller part I'd never voice aloud—insisting I lean into the madness. To hop aboard Abi's crazy train and ride it to our final destination.

After drugging me yesterday, Abi held me until I was asleep. The drug pulled admissions out of me I had no right muttering. Truths I've tried to keep hidden. I can't remember everything I said, but I distinctly remember telling him if I attempt to stay behind when they leave, he is to drug me and carry me back against my will.

I honestly don't know why I fight him as hard as I do. Part of me loves the rush, I guess. The way I slap him silly. How he fingers my hole to keep me in line. I've always been dramatic by nature, maybe that's why I'm so drawn to him. Maybe it's why he's drawn to me. I give him something none of his other partners have. A fight. A goddessdamned battle to the emotional death.

And we're happy, I think. Him and me. Me and him. I take more than I give, but he gives pieces of himself willingly, so who am I to turn them down? Abi lives for the fight just as much as I do. But right now—in this moment—I have no urge to fight. There's no war to wage, only surrender.

We lie this way a while, until the sun appears over the trees through the window. His face ticks, his mouth hangs open, and he takes a deep breath. When he exhales, there are hints of morning breath mixed with cinnamon. It's an enticing scent, if I'm being honest, but I'd never tell him that. When his eyes open into the thinnest of slits, a smile stretches across his face.

"Good morning, little one," he says before leaning in and giving me a chaste kiss on the cheek. I rake my fingers through his furry chest, letting the hair spike between them. Little silken strands that tickle my skin. This is the first time we've woken up alone. Usually, Fee is on the other side of me, her ice-cold legs twisted and folding with mine. Even when she has overnight work assignments, I can usually convince Barb to cuddle up behind us. Apparently, I've grown accustomed to falling asleep nuzzled between two bodies like a human burrito. It's a bit queer when it's just the pair of us, but I can't say it isn't nice. I can't say I don't enjoy the opportunity I have of monopolizing his morning. "You're very affectionate today."

I could come up with a clever comeback to shatter his self-confidence if I really wanted, but I don't want to. Instead, I look up at him and flash a half-smile. My hand slides down his chest until it rests on his stomach. I love the way he feels. Deep canyons between each abdominal muscle. Jagged hip bones that stick out at an alarmingly statuesque angle. The man is a walking work of art. I trail my hand a little lower, only stopping when he growls at me .

"You keep that up and you're going to end up with something stiff pressing against your hip."

My body shudders at the thought. I've never touched him that way. Hell, I've only seen his dick a handful of times, but it's like there's some magnetic force inching me toward it, because it's where my hand belongs. Looking up, I hold eye contact as I lower my hand another inch.

"Tatum," he rasps.

"Call Scotty," I say, sliding my hand a bit lower. Twitching my pinkie, I come into contact with a tuft of pubic hair poking out of his boxers. I know for a fact there's a forest of hair waiting for me should I desire to delve those depths, and I kind of want to dive right in. "We need to figure out what the game plan is today." I bring my lips to his chest, parting them as I journey closer to his nipple. Our eyes are locked, and there's an unspoken knowingness hanging in the air. He's aware of what I want, though I'm unable to express it. The thing is, I need to find a way to apologize to him for my behavior yesterday, and this is probably the easiest path to repentance.

"What game plan?" he asks, moving his hand to the top of my head, his fingers massaging my scalp.

I kiss his nipple and allow my tongue to flick out, eliciting a moan from my Russian captor. His hand holds me in place, but there's no place I'd rather be. I lick a strip across his nipple, living for the way his entire body shakes at the contact I've provided. Lowering my hand, I tiptoe my fingers toward his cloth-covered cock.

"Call him," I repeat.

He's staring at me with a question half-formed on his lips, but nothing comes out. It's like I'm some ancient, recently unearthed tome that holds all the secrets of the universe, and he's trying to study each and every one of them.

"Why?" he finally asks, and all I can do is shoot him a pleading look. Answering him means admitting to my deviancy. My darkest desire—being watched and sexually humiliated by every man I've ever met—isn't something to be proud of. It's shameful. Depraved. "You want them to watch, don't you?" Heat spreads across my face, and when I don't respond, he flashes a smile, giving me a quick nod. "Alright."

As he reaches for his phone on the bedside table, I lower myself between his legs and pull the blanket over my head. In darkness, I can be anyone I want to be. Shrouded by a hot-pink quilt with stitched-on Barbie logos from my youth, I can allow myself to be the man he needs. The man Abi Kincaid deserves.

On the other side of this cover, there's the sound of a phone ringing, but it doesn't matter. Nothing matters except what's in front of me. I lay my head against his leg, nuzzling my nose into the crevice between his thigh and his cock. He smells the way you might expect him to smell. The sweat of the night before, dried and musky and fucking irresistable. Whiff after whiff, it's like the aroma is ripping the resistance out of me. Abi Kincaid's musk is an aphrodisiac. It should be bottled and sold for mass consumption. My hand is on his knee, but when I hear Scotty's voice come through Abi's speaker, it's like my entire body is on fire, the same way it was when Abi asked me to come for him during the Hands on a Hard-On contest. The same heat that spread through me like wildfire when he made me come in front of Scotty, Brody, and Fee in our cabin. Maybe he's right. Maybe I have an exhibitionist kink.

My hand slides beneath his boxers and inches closer toward glory. When I come into contact with his balls, it feels like something has exploded within me. All resistance leaves me, because I'm touching a place that's sacred. One he saves just for me, in hopes I might take what's rightfully mine. So, that's exactly what I do. I take his balls in my hand and softly stroke the hairy skin, enjoying the way his hand tightens around my shoulder.

"Fuck," I hear him moan. Scotty says something in the background, but I can't make out the words. There's something hard pressing against my forehead, and it doesn't take me long to realize what it is. The cloth covering it is damp, and it's getting damper by the second. I'm kind of in awe that I've got him leaking like faulty residential plumbing just from touching his balls. Letting go of his heavy sack, I inch my fingers closer to his cock, gasping softly when I come into contact with it. "Jesus Christ, Tatum."

My cock throbs in my jockstrap at the appreciation in his voice. As I wrap one hand around his shaft, I place the other on top of my bulge, giving it a few good strokes. Cool air rushes across my face, and when I open my eyes, the blanket is gone. There's no darkness left to hide my actions. No means of plausible deniability. Only the truth. My hand around his cock. His unnecessarily massive slab of meat.

Rinna, mother of God, it's like a third leg. My fingertips barely even touch, it's that thick.

"Scotty? I think I need to call you back."

"You literally just called me. We've been on the phone for less than a minute. We need to plan for the big day. Focus, please." His voice is heavy with disdain, but when I peek up at Abi, his eyes are locked on me, and he looks more serious than I've ever seen him.

"Scotty," he says, his voice firm. "My husband is about to stroke my cock."

Oh, my fucking Goddess.

Husband.

The word alone almost makes me unload in my jock. Thankfully, the overwhelming rush of pleasure eases, and I don't prematurely blow a load on his thigh.

Abi reaches down and strokes my head. "You can either hang up or things can get uncomfortable."

"For fuck's sake," Scotty says, sounding exasperated. "I don't care what Tatum's doing right now. We have to get this sorted. Put him on. Let me talk to him."

My eyes bulge, because I didn't think Abi would call me out like this. What I'm giving is just for him, no one else. It's a fact that seems to be lost on Abi, because he turns the phone toward me. On screen, Scotty is sitting crisscross applesauce on the bed at his apartment. Brody's behind him, staring angrily into the phone's camera, not blinking.

"Hi, Tater Tot," Scotty says as if the sight of me with a cock in my hand is some normal, everyday occurrence. "Sorry about yesterday, what with the whole arranging a double wedding behind your back. Alright. Apologies are out of the way. Now, listen. Brody and I will be over in an hour and a half, and we're going to go pick out our outfits for the wedding."

My cock twitches at the mention of our impending wedding. Just the thought of walking down the aisle toward Abi has blood pumping in places it has no right pumping. Part of me wonders if Fee will be behind me, a gun to my back, forcing me to go along with it. The idea of being forced to marry this man should fill me with panic and dread, but it doesn't. It gets me hard as a fucking rock. My imagination lingers on the scenario as I slowly stroke Abi's shaft. Mental pictures of Abi with a needle in his hand, waiting for his captive husband to be presented on a silver platter, ready to drug me into marrying him against my will.

I slide my free hand beneath my jockstrap and stroke myself slowly. Looking up, I catch his gaze, and he's breathing just as heavily as me. Fire courses through our eyes, and the longer we stare, the harder it is for me to see sense. Social decorum is out the window.

"Hang up," I say in a voice I barely recognize. My eyes are glued to his twitching shaft. The motherfucker is massive. I'm pretty sure it would split me in two if I tried to sit on it.

Abi turns the phone and gives them a polite smile. "Your presence is no longer needed. As Tatum might say; hope you cry, hope you die, toodaloo, bye bye."

"Don't you fucking dare hang up on me after spitting out a ridiculous freestyle, Kincaid. This is the most important day of our lives and I refuse to allow your unwelcome erection to spoil it for us. Tatum?"

Abi turns the screen to face me, and I must have a ridiculous, love-drunk look on my face, judging by Scotty's annoyed expression. "Hey, Scotty." My body is rocked with dopamine, and it feels like I'm going to crawl out of my skin.

Scotty rolls his eyes. "Listen," he says, sounding exasperated. "We've got stuff to go over. I don't care what you're doing to him. Suck him. Fuck him. I honestly don't give a shit, but we need to discuss the plans, so pay attention."

My eyes lock on Abi, and there's a smirk curled up in the corner of his mouth. He flexes, making his cock bounce, slapping me right in the mouth. The action leaves a small puddle of pre-cum on my lips, and without thinking, I lick them clean, moaning when I taste his flavor for the first time. It's sweetness with hints of tang. Honey with a peppering of cream. I want more. I need more. Scotty could be droning on about anything right now, and I wouldn't know. Not when Abi is staring at me like I'm the only thing that matters in this world. He reaches for me, placing his hand on top of mine. For a second, I worry he might pull my hand away. Instead, he slowly guides me up the shaft, then down again.

"Good boy," he croons. His voice is warm and welcoming, like coming home after a long day at work. "Go on, Tatum. Stroke my cock." His hand falls away from mine, but I don't stop my movement. I stroke him slowly, my eyes caught on his smiling face. He has his phone propped against a lamp on my bedside table, giving anyone on the other end a delightful view. When I glance over, Scotty's smirking like the cat who got the cream, but Brody is right behind him, staring directly at me. I cock an eyebrow at him and his cheeks burn red.

"Jealous?" I ask him.

Brody snorts a laugh. "Jealous? You're a shitty lay, man. You're just sitting there jerking him off. What the fuck do you have for me to be jealous over, when I've got Freakshow." He wraps a possessive arm around Scotty and holds him close as if I might pop through the screen and start sucking his fiancé's cock while he's forced to stare helplessly .

I return to the task at hand, stroking Abi slowly, pausing from time to time to slap the head against my face, just wanting to make Brody jealous. He might think I miss the looks he gives Abi when no one's paying attention, but he never takes into account I'm just as fucking unhinged as my Russian captor. My eyes are always on him. Watching. Waiting. Needing to keep him in sight at all times.

"He loves me, you know," I say, leaning closer to Abi's cock. The head is only a few inches from me. All it would take is a simple lip pucker, and I'd be kissing it. "More than he ever loved you, Brody."

"Fuck off, queer."

I look at the screen and grin. Then, I do something Brody will never have the chance to do. I lean even closer, my eyes locked on Brody's face on the phone. Puckering my lips, I kiss the head. "You don't believe me?" I kiss it again, my lips parting, allowing in a drizzle of Abi's honey-sweet flavor. "Ask him." I kiss it again, louder and sloppier this time. "Ask your best friend who he would rather fuck."

"Dude, you called me. I'm engaged, I don't give a fuck who Kincaid wants to?—"

"Tatum," Abi says in a voice I've never heard before. It's raw and goddessdamned guttural. Like a tiger pouncing on its prey. "I would pick you over Brody any day. I would let him die if it meant I got a single moment alone with you. He means nothing to me."

"Well, that wasn't fucking necessary," Brody shouts. "You'd seriously fuck him instead of me? He's a whore. A fucking tramp who's fucked half the town of Tallulah. My ass is Prime Grade beef. I'm basically a blushing goddamn virgin!"

"My whore," Abi says, his nails digging deeper into my scalp, making me squeal like a stuck pig. "Is that what you are, little one? Daddy's good little whore?"

I look into his eyes, only to see a man I barely recognize. He's going fucking feral on me. The kind, caring Abi is taking a much-needed nap. Right now, I've got a predator looming over me, teeth bared, breathing heavy, ready to rip me apart. He has to know what this is doing to me. There's no denying it. Not when I'm wrapped around him, rutting against his shin.

"Yeah, Daddy," I whisper, hoping Scotty and Brody don't hear the endearment. "Your whore."

"Such a good slut," he praises, reaching down and stroking my cheek. "Go on, baby. Give it another kiss."

Abi wants me to kiss his cock, so that's what I do. Only, his words are doing things to me, so what was initially meant to be another quick peck somehow morphs into an open mouth approaching with no signs of stopping. The second his head touches my tongue, all logic and rationality leave me. Dark, dirty desires flood my veins like lifeblood, and I lunge forward, swallowing his thick cock, wanting to reach the base. Wanting him to know what a good fucking boy I can be for him. He cries out my name, and the sound of him so lost in pleasure shakes me to my core. I've never heard anything like it.

Choking and gasping for air, I pull away long enough to look him in the eyes. "Tell me."

He cocks a brow, flexing his dick so it smacks my lips again. "Tell you what?"

I stare at him, pleading with my eyes. The neediest of expressions. "Daddy?" He knows what I want—what I motherfucking need —and for a moment, I worry he might drag things out longer than needed, just to see me squirm. He doesn't. He brushes his thumb across my eyebrow and smiles. Softly caressing the back of my head, he guides me down until I'm swallowing his cock again.

"I love you, Tatum," he moans, finally giving me what I need. Sunshine and stardust. That's what I feel. I don't know that I've ever been happier than I am right now.

He slowly rolls his hips, feeding me more of his cock. I'm barely halfway down and it's already filling my throat and making my eyes water. Fuck. If I can't even handle half his cock, what good am I? Abi's a beautiful man. He could have chosen anyone to love, and they would have been lucky to have him, but he's chosen me. He keeps choosing me. I want to be worthy of that choice. I need to be. For him.

With a burning throat and eyes damp with tears, I soldier on, taking another inch or two, desperate to get more inside me. I don't care if I look like a fool in front of Brody. I just want to make my man happy. My Abi.

"Jesus Christ, Tatum," he groans. I look up, needing him to know I'm trying my best. That I'm going to be his good boy, just like he asked. Maybe he'll say it again. Those three words that make my heart swell with pride. Words I could never return, even if I think they might be a little true. He must see the neediness in my expression, because his face goes serious. "Baby, you're perfect."

I pull away and shake my head. "I can do better. I promise."

The look on his face is overwhelming. He's pouring out concern like bursting dam, and the longer I look at him, desperate to show him how fucking good I'll be for him, those cracks grow even wider.

"I don't think I can handle you doing much better than this. I've never felt anything as perfect as your throat. You're taking me so well." His fingers rake through my hair, scratching lightly at my scalp. "There's Daddy's good boy." He carefully pulls me from his cock by my hair, and I can tell he's trying his best not to hurt me by tugging too hard. The moment his cock leaves my mouth, I lunge blindly, not ready for this to be over. His pre-cum is now my drug of choice, and I'd overdose on it daily, given the chance. Being pried away from him feels similar to the way Benito would pry me from either of the Bens' cocks during playtime. Until Benito entered the picture, we had a solid sex life, lack of penetration notwithstanding. It sends rushes of shame through me that feel stronger than an ocean torrent. I know it's Abi who has hold of me, but as he tugs, he feels like Benito, ripping me away from the life I built for myself, one twink's cock at a time.

"No, Abi!" I try to dive down again, wanting to show him how good I can be. Because I can! I can be the best fucking boy he's ever hoped for, he's just gotta let me try. "I told you, I can do better." His finger finds my chin and pulls, lifting my gaze to his. I don't know where all these emotions are coming from, but it's like they're seeping from my skin, creating tangible evidence of my clingy demeanor. "I'll be so good for you. You don't even know."

"I do not think I could handle you being any better than you just were." His thumb brushes across my cheek, and the bed creaks beneath us as he rises to his knees. He wraps an arm around my back and pulls me right against him, leaving no space between us. "Good boy, Tatum." He's staring at me with a look I know by heart. Admiration. Obsession. Pure, untethered love. Heat radiates from him as his nails scrape roughly at my cheek. "Daddy's filthy fucking whore."

My eyes roll back in my head, and my hand finds my cock, trying to match his unbearable grip from earlier. "Please let me try again." I don't know why I'm feeling so insecure. I know my oral skills are exemplary, but there's still that doubt, and it's embedded deep in me. It's grown roots that twist around me on the inside.

"That was the best blowjob I've ever received." He leans closer, kissing his way up my jaw. When he reaches my ear, he whispers, "I stopped because I would like to make us come. Together. I don't want to do it alone." His teeth nibble at my earlobe, making my body tremble. "May I make you come, little one?"

"Jesus, Abi." His hand touches my ass, squeezing like he's trying to squeeze the life out of me.

I'm a whimpering mess by the time his hand roams around to the front of my jockstrap, squeezing my package. Looking down, I watch as he traces my length with the tip of his finger. " May I take it out?" We're both staring at the fabric of my underwear darkening as my pre-cum drenches the cotton.

I place my hand on his, just like he did with me earlier, and guide him toward his goal. His fingers spill over the top of the underwear, making contact with my throbbing, leaking dick. Then ... nothing. He just sits here, staring down at my pulsing prick, not making a move.

"Abi," I plead. "Come on-come on-come on!"

"Someone's eager," he says with a chuckle.

Brody sighs dramatically from the phone. "Someone needs to get the fuck on with it already. We've got shit to do."

My eyes flick back to the phone. I'm pretty close to popping, so I know it won't take much to get me over the edge. I just need a bit of a push. "Show him." I'm speaking loud enough so his psychopathic friend can hear. "Show him how much you love me. That you love me more than you ever liked him."

"You're a fucking asshole, man," Brody grumbles, folding his arms and sulking.

"Tatum." Abi pulls away from me, his eyes narrowed into slits. He's staring at me, lost in contemplation, but it doesn't take long before he makes whatever choice he's been trying to make. He reaches for the nightstand drawer and when he turns back toward me, he's holding ...

I gape at him. "Why is there a butcher's knife in my bedside drawer?"

He lunges forward, the knife aimed right at me. I squeal in terror, but stop once I see he isn't trying to stab me. Instead, he grabs the waistband of my jock and slices it in half. My dick is so hard, it sends the fabric flying up-up and away. Abi tosses the knife behind him, and I take a moment to give thanks that there are no wayward pets in the room, because he didn't even check to see if the coast was clear.

"Someone could break in and try to take you from me." He grinds his cock against my thigh. "I will never allow that to happen. You have my word. "

His hand wraps around my shaft, and he angles his hips so our cocks are pressed right against each other. I don't have a small dick—not compared to a normal human being, at least—but his gargantuan prick puts mine to shame. He's like a god amongst men. His alleged twelve inches puts every bit of my six inches to shame, but he doesn't shame me for it. There isn't a single hint of disappointment in his eyes. If anything, he's staring at it like it's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. Like he wants to kneel at an altar and praise my holy cock. Fuck. Yeah. Maybe we can do that. I can just take a picture of it, have it printed, and make him a little altar beside mine. He can worship my penis as I worship my reality-tv Goddess. He uses his hands to hold our dicks together. I'm pouring out enough pre-cum to keep us both lubed and ready.

"Brody?" he says, ripping me out of the moment. "I am going to say things that are unkind, because it seems to be getting the little one off. Please know I love you, and you are my friend. I won't mean most of what comes out of my mouth."

"Most?" Brody asks, one eyebrow raised. Beside him, Scotty's given up any pretense of wedding preparations and has his hand in Brody's lap, squeezing his Murder Daddy's bulge.

"You have been warned," Abi says before finally putting Brody and his terrible manners out of sight, out of mind by focusing on me. "He means nothing to me, Tatum. I've never loved anyone as much as I love you."

I bite my bottom lip and smile shyly. "Yeah?"

He nods. "No one has ever held a candle to you. Not Brody. Not Fio?—"

I place my hand over his mouth and shake my head. "No. She's already getting the raw end of the deal. I mean, if this were one of those romance novels she reads, the reviewers would probably scold the author for taking not one, but two lovers from her and tossing them over the rainbow. He, she, or they would be mercilessly dragged."

He licks his lips. "Well, he, she, or they aren't here, my love. Let's have a little less talk of hypothetical love stories and focus on the one unfolding in front of us." He slowly strokes upward on my shaft, his grip almost unbearable. Torture in its most pleasurable form. "Brody is terrible in bed." His thumb trails across my slit, spreading my pooling pre-cum into the skin. "Why do you think Fee had to bring me into the picture?"

"I'm going to fucking kill him," Brody shouts before the scream morphs into a moan as Scotty slides his hand in his fiancé's underwear. "I'm going to bust a nut, and then I'm going to fucking kill him."

Abi's lips touch mine, and any threats of death and dismemberment are forgotten, because oh-my-fucking-Goddess, he's a good kisser! He puts everyone in my past to shame. His tongue touches mine, twisting and twirling in time, drawing me closer with each tug of his hand.

"Going to fuck you one day," he moans into my mouth. "Is that what you want? Do you want to sit on Daddy's cock."

"Fuck, yeah," I manage, though I'm not entirely sure how I'm able to form words. It's like there's this unbearable pressure in my gut, starting at my spine, working its way through my core until my entire lower half is rocked with pleasure.

His hands release me, and then I'm in motion, whirling around on my knees. I don't know what the fuck is happening at first, then, I see his face pop out from between my legs. He's lying on his back, his mouth open, waiting expectantly, but the sudden shock of his reappearance makes me scream, "Son of a fucking fuck!" at the top of my lungs. My heart is thundering in my chest—probably a heart attack, with my fucking luck—but that fear is short lived when he gives me a decisive nod.

"He is going to come in my mouth," Abi announces to the room. "You will never get to do this, Brody."

"I don't fuckin' want to, man!"

When I look up, Scotty's hand is pumping feverishly. He peeks his face up at me, our eyes meeting, sharing a secret smile. I wonder if this is simply an expansion of our friendly bond. Will we do this now? Bring our lovers to completion, side by side? Honestly, I don't hate the idea. I don't want to touch Scotty or Brody, but there's something about sharing this moment with someone else. Knowing I'm being watched, even if neither of the men on the other side of the screen are sexually into me, reminds me of the way my ex-boyfriends and I used to handle each other in our super-size bed, before Nito. There's a comradery in the moment, and as Brody stares at Scotty, looking lost in love, I notice it's the same look Abi is giving me. Like I'm perfect. Like I deserve to be happy, and he wants to be the one to provide that happiness.

"I'm going to come," I announce, my fist a blur as I shamelessly stroke my cock at a frantic pace. "Abi—Daddy. I need to?—"

"Do it," he insists. "Tell me why."

"Because I'm—good—boy." I can barely gather my thoughts, much less form coherent words. Still, Abi's giving me a look like I've said the wrong thing. "Because—Yours. I'm yours."

"My slut," he says.

Jesus fucking Christ, that word. "Fuck. Yes. Degrade me, Daddy."

He slaps my hand away and strokes me mercilessly. "What are you? Say it!"

"Your whore," I cry, my head falling back as I moan. "Your fucking whore, Daddy."

He nods. "Daddy's filthy fucking whore." I'm given no chance to react as Abi lunges forward, enveloping my cock with his mouth for the first time. Jesus fucking fuck, I've never felt more alive than I do right now. It's like I can feel every drop of semen work its way up my balls and through my shaft.

"I'm coming!" I grab him by the hair and shove his face down to the base of my cock as jet after jet shoots down his throat. "Oh, fuck, I'm coming in your mouth."

He swallows greedily, his hand touching—then squeezing—my balls like he's trying to milk more out of them. I'm absolutely spent, but if he can give me twenty minutes, I'm happy to try again.

As I ride out the last waves of my release, he places a hand on my back and guides me down to the mattress. It's like I'm in a haze and can't see straight. Not as he hobbles forward on his knees. Not as he lifts my legs with a grunt, spreads my cheeks, and aims his cock at my hole.

"May I come inside you?"

My eyes are half-lidded, and I'm feeling blissed out of my mind. That must be why I don't fight him on it. It's why I don't provide some sassy retort. Instead, I breathlessly ask, "You're going to fuck me?"

His face is twisted up in pleasure, his eyes barely looking at me. It's like he's running on raw willpower and semen, lost in his lust. "Just the tip."

Propping myself on an elbow, I lick my lips. "Just the tip."

He leans closer, licking the corner of my mouth. "Thank you. You don't know how much I've wanted this." As much as I want this, the thought of him going in dry makes me clench. Unless my parents have tossed it out during my absence, there should be a bottle of lube in the drawer of my bedside table. Reaching for the table, I'm pleased to find the economy-size bottle of lube still hidden away. Once it's out, Abi takes it and squeezes a dollop into his palm before slathering it across his shaft. "I'm going to make you mine now, sweetheart. Are you ready?"

I fucking whimper at the words, reaching blindly for his hips and pulling him to me. "Do it." Swallowing, I reach for him, running my hand down his chest. "Breed me. Please."

His eyes roll back in his head, he bites his bottom lip, and finally, he pushes forward. His cock spears at my hole like a well-trained dancer, like he's been practicing this move all his life. Once the head pops through the ring of muscle, all I can do is cry and sob the name I keep hidden for us. Away from Brody and Scotty. Away from Fee.

"Daddy! "

"Fuck. Dammit, Tatum. You're so tight. You fit me so fucking good, baby." I don't know how far he's trying to go, but there's no way I can take all twelve inches, alleged or otherwise. Fear rises in me like a rolling tide, but before that tide can take me under, he falls on top of me, smashing our lips together as jet after jet shoots into me, filling me up. Jesus fucking Christ, Abi is coming. He's coming inside me, and I fucking begged for it!

He's mumbling words I don't understand; some in Russian, some simply gibberish, but every single syllable deserves a Pulitzer. He's so warm in me, like wildfire, lighting me up. "I love you," he mumbles into my ear. "You know that, don't you?"

I don't answer, just squeeze his shoulder, hoping the action is enough. His chest rises and falls against mine, and at some point, we finally tear ourselves away from each other. I look down, surprised to see that even though it felt like I was being ripped in half a moment ago, he's only managed to get the head inside. There's no way I can take all of him. It'll be like being impaled on a fencepost. He must sense my nervousness—and, considering I'm probably staring at his massive cock in horror, it's not really surprising he's picked up on my worried headspace—because he kisses the corner of my mouth and smiles.

"If you can't take it all," he says, reaching down and giving my cock a stroke for emphasis. "Then I'll take you." When he finally pulls out, he replaces his cock with his finger, providing the fullness I'm used to. "I mean it. If it is too much, I will bottom." His finger twitches against my prostate, making me whimper. "I would love for you to make me yours, now that I've made you mine."

His words are ridiculous because I'm a strict bottom. I've never even entertained the idea of topping. I love the way it feels to have another man own me completely. To make me his.

"Or," he finally says before rolling on his side and grabbing the phone. "We can practice until you're able to take me to the base." He gently squeezes my chin with his fingers. "And, if neither of those work, that is fine too. We have mouths. We have hands. If I am too big for you, and you are not able to top ..." He wraps his hand around our softening shafts, practically beaming. "This. This right here. It is more than enough for me."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Another quick kiss, and he opens his mouth to speak but stops when he looks down at his phone. He stares at the screen with a scowl, which piques my interest. I want to see what all the fuss is about. The second the phone's in sight, I feel like I'm going to be sick. After what we've just done, I probably have no right to talk, but the last thing I want to see is Scotty holding a weapon to Brody's head, their mouths locked, Scotty's little cock slamming in and out of Brody's hole. I grab the phone and end the call, tossing it back on the bed and cuddling up next to Abi. "Fucking perverts."

He gives me a nod and a chuckle. "Deviants, through and through."

Hooking an arm around his waist, I allow him this moment. No. I allow myself this moment. "Can we stay like this? Just cuddle up here and never leave."

"As much as I would love that, we should probably go do damage control."

"What do you mean?"

He gives me a final kiss on the lips before sitting up and reaching for his underwear. "You're not exactly quiet. I'm pretty sure your parents just heard you ejaculate."

My heart stalls in my chest and I jolt out of bed, rushing toward my luggage and grabbing a pair of sweats. "I hate you, you son of a bitch," I hiss over my shoulder. "Why didn't you tell me to shut up?"

He sits up in bed and stares at my naked form, grinning ear to ear. "You were enjoying yourself, and I love to see you happy."

And that's when I hear it. My parents' muffled voices through the wall. They don't sound angry, but they don't sound particularly happy. And, through all of the madness that's probably about to unfold, the smile never leaves Abi's face. Yeah, well, I've got just the thing to wipe away that smirk.

Pulling my sweats up, I walk back to him, hop in bed, and hobble over to him. I squeak a little when he grabs my hips and pulls me onto his lap so I'm straddling him like it's the most normal thing in the world.

"Why are you smiling?" His fingers dig into my ribs, tickling me mercilessly until I slap them away.

"No reason," I say. He lifts his hands like he's going to tickle me again, but I'm two steps ahead. Reaching down, I squeeze his package—not enough to hurt him, just enough to let him know I'm there. And if my thumb slowly rubs back and forth against his shaft, that's not really any of your goddessdamned business.

"Clearly, there is," he counters, his voice cracked with what I can only assume are nerves. "Or did you just want another round with Daddy's dick?" When he says it, his soft cock twitches to life like he's just pressed some magic boner button. I pinch the tip of his penis, enjoying the way he sucks in a quick, sharp breath.

"The thing is," I say, sliding my hand lower and cupping his balls, "Mom and Dad are probably going to want to tag along with us today." I trail my finger lower and bite back the moan that crawls up my throat when my finger delves between his cheeks. I could stare at his ass for centuries. For fucking millennia. Knowing I'm finally venturing into the depths of his valley for the first time, my dick swells a little. "And I'm pretty sure my parents just heard you call me ... what was it again? A ‘ filthy fucking whore '?" His eyes widen and the color leaves his cheeks. "My dad has guns. Lots of them. All I'd have to do is scream, and you'll be missing half your face within seconds." When my finger reaches his virgin hole, I press the tip against it, fucking living for the look of panic on his face.

"Tatum," he whispers.

"Best behavior, babe," I say, leaning in and kissing the tip of his nose. "You step out of line today, I'll do it. The second we get back in this room tonight, I'll scream. I'll say you're trying to kill me." I kiss the side of his face. "It would be such a shame to ruin such a pretty face with something as unsightly as a bullet wound. Don't you think?"

His fear fades until all that's left on his face is a goofy grin. "You think my face is pretty?"

I'm pretty sure my cheeks must be scarlet at this point.

Fuck. Fuck, fuckity, fuck-fuck-fuck.

"Hate your stupid face. Hate your stupid life." I fully plan on continuing my list of things I hate about Abi Kincaid, but I'm silenced when he leans in and presses his ridiculously soft lips against mine.

"You can hate my face all you want. I love everything about you." He kisses my chin. "The little indention in your chin." His lips work their way up the side of my face, pausing briefly at my temple. "Your eyes, Tatum. Jesus Christ. I could get lost in them for days."

My entire body shivers at the words. "Hope you cry."

He chuckles, kissing even higher, stopping at my hairline. "Your hair, sweetheart. Every strand was placed by your Goddess herself. You're perfect."

"Hope you die," I attempt, but I know the words don't sound true.

He shakes his head and pulls away. "Hope I steal you and keep you for the rest of my life." He swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. "Would that be alright with you? May I keep you?"

I can't bring myself to agree. Fuck, I can barely breathe, much less speak. And, since I'm apparently living out my whore era where shame and resistance have fled the scene, I lean in and lick that sexy-fucking Adam's apple. His skin tastes like cologne and cream, and in my state of post-orgasmic arousal, I'm not content with a simple taste. So, I widen my mouth and suck his Adam's apple for all it's worth. I only stop when I dig my teeth in a little and he makes a pained sound. When I pull away, he's looking at me with a level of hunger I've never seen before. He would probably bend me over and fuck me raw right now if I let him, and I kind of want to let him; agonizing pain be damned.

He cradles me in his arms, more tenderly than anyone has before. It's like I'm his most precious, delicate possession. "Come on, love," he says, giving me one final squeeze. "Let's go pick out our wedding attire."