Chapter 21

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

A s Hugo undid her cape, letting it fall on the table behind her, Abigail suddenly realized that there was very little separating him from her. She was wearing nothing but her night shift, a thin garment that hardly did anything to cover her body, and the moment her cape was gone, Hugo stopped to stare at her under the soft light of the moon, drawing in a sharp breath.

“No matter how many times I see you like this, I will never get used to it,” Hugo said, his hands trailing all over her body, fingers brushing over her breasts, her stomach, and then her thighs, before pushing them apart. Heat had already begun to pool in Abigail’s core, every touch stoking her desire until she couldn’t stop herself from grabbing Hugo by the shirt and pulling him close, smashing their lips together.

Moaning against her, Hugo smoothed his palms over her thighs, the touch teasing and feather-light, until he reached her mound. Abigail shivered, echoing his moan when he traced her folds, a sound that he swallowed with a kiss.

“You’re so wet already,” he said, an awed tone slipping into his voice. “Do you desire me that much? Or have you been thinking about this?”

As he spoke, one of his fingers slid inside her without resistance, the slick slide of it pushing every other thought out of Abigail’s mind. The truth was that she had been thinking about it; it was difficult not to when the memory of the pleasure he had given her was still so fresh, so strong in her mind, but she couldn’t bring herself to admit it.

“Have you touched yourself, thinking about me?” Hugo asked and Abigail almost choked on thin air, her heartbeat kicking up until her entire chest rattled with it. Was that something that she could do, she wondered. It sounded so embarrassing, touching herself like that while thinking about Hugo, but he made it sound like something he wanted, something thrilling.

Taking her hand, he led it between Abigail’s legs and guided her fingers, the two of them pleasuring her together. The mere thought of what they were doing had her dripping on their hands, Her breath coming out in short, labored puffs as Hugo pushed one of his fingers inside her along with her own.

“I’ve been thinking about you,” he said, grabbing her chin with his free hand to force her gaze to met his. “I couldn’t resist. I touched myself in the bath, thinking that maybe you were doing the same. I could imagine you so vividly, opening your legs like this, sinking inside yourself and moaning my name. Or maybe afterwards, in your bed, mounting your pillow and wishing it were me instead, wishing you were full of me.”

Abigail’s face was on fire, her skin a bright red, just as much from embarrassment as it was from lust. She could hardly stand to listen to Hugo’s words, but at the same time, she didn’t want him to stop. Each of those words brought her a little closer to the edge, and so did that gaze which was nailed to her own despite her best efforts to look away.

“I want to see it one day,” Hugo said, his voice barely a whisper as he spoke against her lips. “I want to watch you as you lose yourself to your pleasure and then I will pleasure you again and again until you can’t even stand.”

Abigail imagined it, lounging naked in bed and touching herself as Hugo watched. She imagined his hungry gaze on her, eager to catch every detail, every slide of her hands over her body, ever thrust of them inside her. She imagined him barely restraining himself, barely stopping himself from touching her until he had her permission, and the descending upon her like a starving man.

It was that thought, along with a harsh curl of Hugo’s finger that tipped her over the edge, her orgasm sudden and so intense that she dug the nails of her free hand on Hugo’s shoulder, deep enough to draw a hiss from him. She shook violently from the pleasure, hips rolling uncontrollably as she chased the last of the aftershocks, holding onto Hugo as though he were a lifeline.

When she could finally breathe again, Hugo kissed her and let his fingers slip out along with hers before lacing them together.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he said. “I love watching you.”

“I gathered,” said Abigail with a small chuckle, but there was no bite behind her words—there couldn’t be, not when she could hardly think straight.

For a few moments, Hugo only held her close to his chest, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. Abigail slowly recovered from the fog that clouded her mind and took a step away from him, just enough to remove her shift and leave it on the table along with her cape.

If Hugo liked to look at her so much, then the least she could do was let him take his fill.

With a mischievous grin, she stood tall, back arching a little to show off her breasts. Hugo’s gaze fell upon her immediately and then it was followed by his mouth as he kissed and licked his way down her neck and chest, drawing one of her nipples in his mouth until it stood hardened and puffy in the chilly air of the room.

As much as Abigail was enjoying all the attention, though, she wanted to give him the same pleasure he had given her. She didn’t want him to think that she only took and was unwilling to give anything back or that she couldn’t. Surely, Hugo had been with many women, many—if not all—of them much more experienced than she was, but Abigail wanted to be the one to impress him the most.

Reaching for him, Abigail pressed her palm against the bulge in his borrowed trews, stroking his length over the fabric. Hugo groaned softly, hips rolling once against her hand as he sought more pressure, his head falling back as he closed his eyes.

Abigail took the opportunity to kiss his neck, lips brushing gently over the delicate skin there. The moan that Hugo let out was a surprised, broken little sound, one that Abigail craved to hear again, so she continued to kiss and nip at his neck, his manhood twitching with excitement under her palm.

“Will ye teach me how tae pleasure ye?” she asked. “I want tae be good fer ye.”

“You’re so good for me,” Hugo said, fingers tangling in her hair as he pulled her into a kiss.

Abigail allowed it for a moment, before she broke the kiss short. “I want tae be even better. Please, what ye did tae me, with yer mouth, I want tae dae that tae ye.”

Hugo looked at her with wide, lustful eyes, as though he could hardly believe what she had just offered him. As he held her close, every brush of his clothes against her nude body sparked another flame in Abigail, that insistent need quickly returning.

“Wait,” he said, looking around him for a moment, before he seemed to give up on whatever he was looking for and instead removed his shirt, all but ripping it off his body. Then, he folded it into a small square and placed in on the ground in front of him, chuckling when Abigail gave him a questioning look. “I don’t want you to kneel on the floor. It should help a little, at least.”

Abigail let out a disbelieving laugh, her palm coming up to cradle his cheek for a moment. Even now, he was taking care of her more than any other man ever had.

When she dropped to her knees, she heard Hugo’s breath catch and when she looked up at him, his eyes were dark, glazed over with desire. He wasted no time before he undid his trews, pushing them down just enough to reveal his manhood and taking himself in his hand, giving his length a few strokes.

Abigail hadn’t had the chance to see his manhood from that close the last time they were together and now she took the chance to get a good look at him, her hand joining his tentatively to stroke him. He was longer than he was thick, his length silky smooth over a thatch of blonde curls, wetness already beading at the tip.

“Open your mouth,” Hugo said and Abigail did as she was told, parting her lips so that Hugo could push between them, going only as far as the tip. His thighs shook with the effort it took to hold himself back and one of his hands curled around the table at his back to hold himself upright.

Abigail was apprehensive at first, uncertain of what to do, but then she tried to suck gently at the tip and Hugo’s knees almost buckled, something that she took as a positive sign. She looked up at him through her lashes and Hugo threaded the fingers of his free hand through her hair, looking at her with an adoring look.

“That’s it,” he said. “You can suck. Don’t rush yourself.”

Abigail let her eyes fall shut as she began to suck at the head, humming softly at the foreign feeling. Hugo’s manhood was warm and heavy on her tongue, the skin satin-soft, and she lost herself to the sensations, taking him a little deeper in her mouth.

Above her, Hugo moaned, hips thrusting slowly and shallowly, just enough to create some friction. His hand was gentle in Abigail’s hair, petting and encouraging her to keep going.

“Take your hand,” he said. “Wrap it around it. Here.”

As he spoke, he let go of the table for a moment and took Abigail’s hand, wrapping her fingers around what her mouth couldn’t reach. He helped her stroke him in the rhythm he liked, fingers tangling together as they brushed over the length again and again, before he let go once Abigail got the hang of it.

Hugo leaned back, letting Abigail pleasure him as she liked, breathy moans escaping him when she stroked him just right and tightened her lips, sucking hard at the tip. When she hollowed her cheeks, Hugo almost lost his footing once more, the moan he let out so loud that it echoed around the room.

“Come here,” he said, lifting her to her feet. Abigail crashed into him, wrapping her arms around his neck as they kissed, the urgency between them growing and growing until it seemed it would soon spiral out of control.

Hugo manhandled her easily, twirling her around so that Abigail was facing the table and pulling her hips back as she braced herself against it. With his knee, he knocked her thighs open wider and before Abigail could do anything but stand there, he swiftly entered her, sliding all the way to the hilt.

The pleasure of that first thrust was overwhelming and Abigail lay over the table, letting her forehead rest on its surface as Hugo set a brutal pace, each thrust hard and fast, threatening to tip the table over. His need for her only served to strengthen her arousal, her body turning into a flame as she held on to the edge of the table, taking everything Hugo was giving her. Every slide of his manhood inside her was searing, every grunt and groan he made intoxicating, and Abigail didn’t care anymore about what she sounded or looked like. All she cared about was having more of this, losing herself to the feeling of him inside her.

When he grabbed her leg, hooking his arm under her knee to lift it up against the table, the angle changed and Abigail could suddenly feel him even deeper, each thrust of his hips hitting a spot inside her that had her toes curling and her breath catching in her throat. The room was filled with their moans and the slaps of their bodies, and Hugo draped himself over her back, his voice rough and gravelly as he spoke.

“Touch yourself. I want to feel you come apart around me.”

The request punched an eager groan out of Abigail and she snaked a hand between her body and the table, her fingers finding that spot that had her trembling with pleasure. She circled the nub to the rhythm of Hugo’s thrusts, working herself quickly, almost desperately, moaning wantonly as she chased her climax.

It only took one more thrust, so hard that the entire table slid over the floor along with them, for Abigail to reach her peak, screaming Hugo’s name as she clenched tightly around him. The tight vice of her walls instantly pulled Hugo over the edge along with her, a surprised gasp tumbling out of his lips as he spilled inside her, burying himself as deep as he could go.

Afterwards, they did nothing but pant, trying to catch their breath, still joined for several moments before Hugo finally slipped out of her with a satisfied sigh. Abigail still didn’t move, too loose-limbed and breathless to do anything but stay where she was, half-lying on the table.

It was only when she heard a familiar giggle and two pairs of footsteps that she sprung upright, eyes wide in terror as she spun around to look at Hugo.

“Billie!” she mouthed at him, trying to make no noise. Looking out of the small window, she spotted the familiar figure of her sister along with Domnhall, the two of them quickly approaching the shed.

They couldn’t find them there, and they certainly couldn’t find them like that, Abigail thought as panic gripped her and she hurriedly grabbed her clothes, desperately trying to put them on only to tangle herself in the holes of her shift. Next to her, Hugo was trying to dress as well, and judging from the soft curses and the thump of a body against a hard surface, he was having just as much of a hard time as she was.

By the time Abigail’s head emerged through the shift, Hugo was buttoning the last button of his shirt. Once he was more or less decent, he rushed to her, their trembling hands pulling down her shift and straightening it, though each seemed to inhibit the other’s efforts.

Only when Hugo wrapped her cape around her shoulders and secured it there, obscuring all of her body from view, did Abigail draw in a breath. Anyone who laid eyes on them would know what they had been doing, of course—their clothes were still in disarray, their hair sticking up towards all directions, the strands tangled and sitting around their heads like halos. But at least they were both wearing clothes, which was more than she could have said about themselves only a few moments prior.

Once again, Abigail held her breath as Billie and Domnhall approached. There was no way for her and Hugo to get out of there without being noticed, so if the shed was their destination, then there was no way they wouldn’t be discovered.

Then again, Abigail supposed it would be just as embarrassing for Billie and Domnhall to be found heading there in the middle of the night.

The footsteps came closer and closer—and then they passed them by. Billie and Domnhall walked past the shed, heading towards the stables, and Abigail let out a sigh of relief, all but collapsing against the table.

Hugo, on the other hand, laughed as if amused.

“Dae ye think this is funny?” Abigail asked, though she couldn’t hold back a small smirk. “We were almost discovered.”

“So?” Hugo asked, pulling her close for a kiss. “It’s nothing they haven’t done.”

Abigail drew her bottom lip between her teeth, worrying for a moment. Perhaps it was time, she thought, to ask him about the two of them. She had to get a clearer idea of their relationship. She had to know what they were to each other before doubt drove her mad.

“Come, let’s head back,” Hugo said before she had the chance to ask anything. “It’s late.”

Perhaps now isnae the right time after all.

Or perhaps this was a sign that she shouldn’t ask him at all. Maybe it was better for the relationship to be shrouded in mystery rather than Abigail having to face the disappointment of rejection.