Page 97 of The Fantasy League
“So, move in and it will beourhouse.”
“You’re serious about this?” I lifted my head once again to look down at him, watching as his two middle fingers disappeared inside me.
“Dead.” He stared up at me, seriousness coating his eyes. “And I’m not letting you come until you say yes.”
“You’re cra—” He swirled my arousal around my clit with his thumb, making my vision spotted. “Oh my god. Keep doing that.”
“Say it,” he demanded with an arrogant smile, denying me pleasure as he slowed the strokes of his fingers inside me.
“Please, please, please, please, please. Abel, I need to come.” I was practically screaming. My hips were bucked completely off of the bed and my thighs were closing tightly around Abel’s head.
“Say it, Red,” he demanded.
“Yes,” I cried out. “Yes, I’ll move in with you.”
He paused. “I’ll have my lawyer fill out the paperwork to put your name on the deed tomorrow. Now come for me.”
Seconds later, I shuddered around his fingers in an orgasm so powerful I swear to God I thought I could reach out and touch the stars. Before I was even finished, Abel had lined up his cock with my center.
Oh god, he was going for multiples again.
I had a feeling that was going to be the new norm, and if it was, I would never be leaving this bedroom again.
Good thing I agreed to move in with him, right?
Abel taunted me with just his tip while I recovered from my first. Only this time, when he plunged into me, instead of fucking me like I’d expected, he kept a steady pace that made his pelvis brush against my clit with every thrust. Bliss seared through my veins as our eyes locked and we came together.
“We can start packing today,” I whispered against his lips with a smile.
* * *
I wokeup a few hours later from a post-sex-induced nap and I moseyed down the stairs to figure out where Abel went. Much to my surprise, I walked into the kitchen to find him standing over the pan on the stove with a spatula in hand, wearing nothing but gray sweatpants.
Holy shit, this was a chef’s literal wet dream. I nearly came at the sight of him. The only thing that stopped me from doing so was the fact that it felt entirely unsafe for him to be shirtless, standing six inches away from a stove.
I dragged my hand across his back as I walked past him and hopped up to sit on the open counter space near where he was finishing up… hanger steak topped with garlic butter based on the look of it. My favorite.
He took the pan off of the heat and moved it over to a trivet on the island to let it cool before turning his attention over to me. He tilted his head over to the living room, where everything I owned was in boxes waiting to be unpacked.
“When did you have time to do that?” I arched a brow at him.
“You were asleep forsix hours, Red… and I hired a moving crew,” he quipped with a smirk.
Of course he hired movers. I should’ve known.
“I always assumed you could cook, but it’s nice to know for sure.” I held back a small laugh.
With the corners of his lips turned up, Abel nudged his hips between my thighs and placed a hand on each side of me, pinning me against the counter. “I never wanted a chef.”
“Never?” I pulled away from him with wide eyes.
I guessed he didn’tneeda chef, but it was a bit of a surprise to hear him say he didn’t want one. He had a way of surprising me with new information about himself whenever I least expected it. What was next… him telling me he had a ring picked out since the day we officially got together?
“I only offered you the job because I wanted to see you every day until I worked up the courage to ask you out,” he whispered against my neck.
“You were going to ask me out?”
“Eventually.” Abel sucked lightly on that hollow spot where my shoulder and neck met, causing me to let out a small moan. “In a backward fucking way, I guess my plan worked, didn’t it?”
