The Stranger Behind My Orgasm

Chapter 252: DIRTY TALKING

Finnegan

I whipped around at the sound of the door slamming open. Abigail stood in the doorway of my study with her eyes flashing with a mix of hurt and fire.

Her cheeks were flushed and her chest heaved against the thin silk of her blouse and the little shorts she had on left her long legs on full display.

The sight of her all alive and fierce sent a jolt straight to my gut. I quickly ended the HR call with a curt

"We’ll continue this later" and set the phone down.

"You should be resting." I crossed the room toward her with my eyes narrowing with worry.

"The doctor said—"

"I am good at my job," she cut in, stepping closer with her chin lifted defiantly. "You’re already interviewing for new assistants? You’re replacing me?"

I sighed and pulled her into my arms. Her body was warm and soft against mine and fit into the hard planes of my chest like she was carved to belong there.

I was hyper-aware of every fragile bone and every healing bruise and the stitches hidden beneath her clothes that reminded me how close I had come to losing her.

"You’re still hurt, Abigail. You’re recovering. I’m not firing you. I’m just trying to make sure you don’t push yourself too hard." Her pretty blue eyes narrowed and darkened with frustration.

"So you’ve decided I’m useless now? That I can’t even do my job as your assistant?" The hurt in her voice stabbed straight through me.

"That’s not what I meant, baby. I just want to protect you." "And what about what I want?!"

She pushed at my chest but not hard enough to actually move me and her palms flattened against my pecs and I felt the heat of her skin through my shirt branding me. "You won’t let me work and you won’t even touch me properly." Her voice dropped, throaty and raw.

"I don’t want to be treated like some fragile little doll, Finnegan. I want to remain your assistant unless professionally I don’t deserve to. I also want you to fuck me, damn it. I won’t break!" I froze and my pulse spiked hard enough that I felt it in my throat.

Her words hit me like gasoline on a flame and ignited every cell in my body. I tried to step back but she moved closer with her voice dropping into that low timbre.

"I want you to push my panties aside and bury your face between my thighs. I want your tongue working my pussy until I’m soaking your chin. I want you to suck on my clit until I’m screaming your name. I want your fingers stretching me open while you tell me how much you missed tasting me."

"Shit." My breath caught. I could practically taste her already, that sweet musky salt of her arousal.

My mouth watered and my cock throbbed against my zipper. She pressed closer and her belly brushed the rigid outline of my erection through my trousers.

"I’m healing, Finn, but my body is working just fine and it’s aching for you. So stop treating me like I’ll break and touch me like you mean it." My cock hardened instantly and strained painfully against the fabric which suddenly felt like a torture device.

Her jasmine scent filled my lungs and her words and the fire in her eyes and the way her nipples had peaked hard against her blouse were dismantling my restraint piece by piece.

"Abigail..." I groaned, trying to hold onto the last threads of reason while my hips jerked involuntarily toward her.

"We can’t. Your stitches. I don’t want to hurt you." She didn’t listen. Her hand slid down my chest with her nails dragging over my abs and leaving trails of fire that pooled in my groin.

She palmed my cock through my trousers and the contact made me jolt with a full-body spasm of pure need.

She gave it a slow deliberate stroke and squeezed just right at the head where I was most sensitive. I jerked into her hand with a guttural groan.

"Fuck... baby..." She smiled wickedly with her pupils blown wide with desire.

"See? You want this too. Your cock is so hard for me and I can feel you pulsing." She squeezed again.

"Let me take care of you, Finnegan. Please. I need to feel you." Every word of protest I had left vanished when she yanked my trousers and boxers down in one swift motion.

My cock sprang free, heavy and leaking and bobbing between us as the cool air hit my overheated skin.

I was fully erect with veins standing out along the shaft and the head flushed dark and slick with arousal. Abigail’s breath caught and her hungry gaze fixed on me.

"God, look at you," she whispered.

"So big and hard. I’ve missed this so much. Missed how full you make me feel." She wrapped her hand around me and stroked slowly from the base to the tip and when she reached the head she twisted her wrist and the sensation nearly buckled my knees.

"Christ." I buried my face in her hair and groaned as she pumped me faster. Her scent filled my nose as her thumb swirled over the sensitive head and spread the slickness there and made every stroke wet and filthy.

The sound of her hand working me filled the room and my hips rolled involuntarily into her fist, chasing more pressure and more friction and more of her.

"You’re going to kill me," I rasped, my hands finding her hips and gripping hard.

"I want you so badly, want to be inside that tight wet heat, but I can’t, not until you’re healed. I won’t."

"But we can do this," she whispered, stroking me faster and twisting her wrist just right. The sensation sent sparks shooting up my spine.

"I want to feel you lose control. I want to watch your face when you come for me." It didn’t take much longer.

A few seconds later I groaned her name into her neck as hot thick spurts of my release erupted between us.