“Don’t mess with me, red head.” Alex snaps playfully after Abby asks her how tall he is. Red head? Oh, no, he’s got her going. I lean back in my seat to enjoy the show.
“My hair is not red! It’s auburn, it’s a reddish brown.” She bites out, leaning closer to him. My little lady is angry, and not at me. It’s refreshing, and funny.
“A what brown?” Alex asks, leaning closer and pretending not to have heard. I try to laugh as silently as possible, but she’s being too damn cute right now.
“Reddish.” She says.
“-ish.” She corrects, and I have to cover my mouth so she won’t hear me. Capucine is not even hiding, giggling next to the tease.
“You’re a reddish head.” Alex concludes, and she pouts, truly sulking, really pissed. This time I have to laugh, out loud, not evrn bothering to try to be discreet. She shoots me a look, and though it should make me wet my pants, it just makes me laugh harder. Poor little thing. I wrap my arm around her neck and pull her to me.
“Leave her alone.” I say to Alex, though my laugh is only encouraging him.
“S'not funny.” She mutters, dragging the “y” like she always does. I try, really try to contain myself.
“She hates when people say her hair is red.” I try to scold Alex, but by eyebrows refuse to furrow and I can’t hide my smile.
“Dye it, then.” He says to her.
“Mmmmnnnn.” She says, sticking her tongue out and grimacing at him. I burst into laughter, and so do Alex and Capucine. She scowls, sipping on her cocktail.
We’re in a tiki bar in Monaco, where night has fallen after a long day of sun, shopping and touring. The bar is lighted with soft lights, the atmosphere is friendly, there’s good music and the food is excellent. The music changes to a Latin melody with castanets. Capucine smiles alone and Alex gives her a playful look. She catches him watching and smirks.
“Tu veux danser?” She asks, and Alex makes a grimace.
“Tu sais que je suis nul au flamenco.” He says. Wet fucker.
“Flamenco?” Abby’s all ears now, her previous rancor forgotten.
“Yep. It’s a hobby of mine.” Capucine says humbly. She turns to Alex, leans close to him and pouts.
“Allez, danse avec moi.” She purrs, and Alex pouts. He’s such a whipped motherfucker!
“Mais je suis nuuuuul.” He says, cutely, and I almost gag. Jesus. Capucine gives up and starts pouting.
“Teach me?” Abby proposes. She wants to learn how to dance flamenco? In a bar? In front of strangers?
“You want to learn?” Capucine’s eyes light up like Christmas. Women.
“Hell yeah.” Abby’s already slipping out of my embrace. I stare, dumbfounded. Alex is relieved he doesn’t have to dance.
“Come.” Capucine takes her hand and leads her to the dancefloor, and by dancefloor I mean the big hallway between the bar and the tables, it’s not a dancefloor. I realize they both have removed their flip-flops, wriggling their white toenails. I shake my head in disbelief.
Capucine teaches Abby a few steps, and how to play with her skirt. Today the two had gone shopping, and adopted a twin look, a bikini top, a chocker, and a long, high waisted, fluid skirt. Only the colors were different, Abby was the red twin, the most beautiful, and Capucine was in white.
Two barefoot girls dancing in the middle of the nonexistent dancefloor start to draw attention. All eyes are on them as they come up with a choreography, and Abby looks gorgeous, smiling and laughing. She’s a good dancer, and she seems to be enjoying herself, it makes me smile and I feel all proud to have her. The song finishes and they both yell ‘Oleh!’ at the same moment, drawing a round of warm applauds. Even the barmen are smiling and clapping, the entire bare is conquered. As another Latin song starts, two men, in their early fifties come to them. Each one asks one of our girls for a dance. I don’t know what Abby says to the Frenchman but he doesn’t seem to mind and pulls her to him, placing a hand high on her back and taking her hand. She laughs and doesn’t fight him, turning and giving me a 'i don’t have a clue what’s going on but hey’ look. The guy teaches her a few step of a dance I don’t know. It’s her smile. It’s just seeing her smiling and enjoying herself that prevents me from punching this guy in the face. I feel a huge pang of jealousy and possessiveness, I want to drag her away from the dancefloor. I know my feelings are not justified, I know the man is uninterested, he’s looking at her feet, making sure she dances correctly, and shows off towards his friend. He doesn’t want her, she’s too young for him, but I hate that he has his hands on her. I hate that she acknowledges him, I hate that she’s having fun with him, but I love that she having fun.
My blood is starting to boil. I’m mad, not at her, but at myself for feeling like this. Alex, who was watching his girlfriend turns to me. His expressions l changes as he looks at my face.
“Dude, they’re just old guys.” He says.
“I didn’t say anything.” I mutter. I won’t say anything, and I won’t do anything, but damn I want to. It’s torture to watch this.
“Your eyes speak, man. Get your head out of your butthole, it’s innocent.” He says before turning around again and starting to clap in rhythm, encouraging them. The song finishes and he finally lets her go. I’m glad the torture is over, but I don’t feel any better, he still has had his hand on her, and the thought is infuriating. Another Latin song comes on and Abby hops towards be, barefoot and cute as shit. She takes my hand and drags me to the improvised dancefloor. I smile a little bit at her actions, thought I can’t get this burden out of my chest. Maybe dancing with her will make it better.
“You okay? You’re tense.” She asks once her hand is on my shoulder. Damn it, how does she know?
“I’m good.” I lie, forcing a smile. I dip my head down a kiss her lips. When I pull away, her brows are furrowed.
“You’re mad. What’s wrong?” She asks, eyeing me suspiciously. She won’t drop it, will she?
“Everything is perfectly fine.” I lie again.
“You’re a shit liar.” She says with her dirty mouth. I scowl at her.
“Watch your mouth.” I mutter.
“Are you mad at me?” She asks, ignoring my remark, as always. I stop scowling instantly.
“No, I’m not mad at you. I’m not mad at all.” I murmur before spinning her around. I spin her round and round, until she feels dizzy and forgets about this.
It’s past midnight when Abby and I call it a night and walk out of the bar. We linger on the beach, hand in hand, flip-flops hanging on our fingers as Abby walks with her feet in the water. She holds her skirt so it doesn’t get wet and watches the waves crash on her toes.
“Now, will you tell me why you’re mad?” She asks, looking up at me.
“I’m not mad, Abby.” I lie for the fourth time.
“Oh, please.” She says, and gives me the matching look. I sigh, knowing she won’t let me go with this.
“It made me mad to see you dancing with this man.” I confess, not proud of myself. She frowns, and I know she’s going to tell me how ridiculous it is.
“You didn’t stop me.” She says, surprising me. Of course I didn’t stop her, I knew this man didn’t want her.
“He was uninterested, and too old for you.” I reply.
“Then what’s the problem?” She asks. I shrug, because I have no idea what my problem is.
“I still felt jealous.” I say. “I thought I was going to beat the shit out of him, I wanted his hands off you.”
“I’m mad at myself for feeling like this. Hell, I’m furious.” I add, my own reasoning making me mad again.
“Yet you let me have my fun.” She says, and the point of wonder in her voice makes me look at her. She’s smiling. She stops dead in her tracks and wraps her free arm around me.
“You’re the best boyfriend ever, you know that?” She says. Her words make me feel warm in my chest. I love it when she says that, though I know it’s not true. This little lady is my weakness. Groaning, I wrap my arms around her and swing her around. She yelps and starts giggling, the cheerful sound making me feel better.
I still feel bitter and grumpy when we come back to our suite in the Carlton of Monaco. I like that suite, it’s even bigger than the one in Lyon, with view on the beach. Alex and Capucine are staying at Alex’s villa not far away from the hotel, we could’ve crashed there, but I like intimacy with Abby.
I know what I need now, now that I have her naked beneath me, wanting, her eyes full of lust and desire. I have that, and they don’t. They don’t have her trust, she doesn’t welcomes her inside of her, she trusts me, she wants me. I want everyone to know that, that I am the only one who can have her, body and soul, that she’s mine. I’ll leave my mark on her, I’ll remind them all. But I need her to prove me that she trusts me first, I need to know only I can have that.
“I want to tie you up.” The words are out before I can develop my reasoning. I know just the fact to have her naked beneath me is a proof of her trust, but tonight I want more. I want her to show me she’s mine. Mine to do as I wish. God, my throbbing cock twitches. She stares up at me, breathless from the steamy kiss we were sharing.
“Tie me up?” She repeats, and I see it in her eyes, she’s taken aback. I nod, and she just stares at me, her blue eyes searching into mine. I don’t know what she’s looking for, courage?
“Do you want to try or not? You’ll just have to tell me to, and I’ll free you.” I murmur. She licks her lips and then shallows.
“Okay.” She whispers. Okay?! Oh, baby. I can’t help but smile at her, she makes me so damn happy, always willing to try new things.
“I’ll be right back.” I lean down and kiss her forehead before leaving her. I know what I’m going to use to tie my little lady to the bed. Carrying my naked ass to the bathroom, I grab one of the two satin robes and take just the leash. It’ll keep her in place, but the soft material won’t bruise her. When I walk to the bed she’s kneeling on the bed, watching me with aprehending eyes. She’s silent, looking at me shyly with a point of trepidation. Beautiful.
“Lay down.” I tell her, joining her on the bed. She obeys silently, layung flat on her back. She’d so complying and obeying in bed, unlike the rest of the time. When I straddle her hips I notice her chest is heaving again, though I don’t know if it’s because of the thrill or because she’s scared.
“Give me your hands.” I command, and she gives me both of her wrists. I wrap the lash around her wrists three times, binding them together, then I tie them to one of the bars of the bed. I let her go and admire my handiwork: she has her arms stretched over her head, helpless, at my mercy. My cock twitches at the sight. She looks up and tests her bounds, pulling on it. When she looks back at me, her eyes are filled with unsureness, and a little bit of fear. I lean down close to her face, locking her eyes with mine.
“You know how to stop me.” I murmur, wanting her to know. She gives me a small nod and I kiss hard, long and hungry, my arousal growing at the idea of having her restrained, having no choice but to take whatever I give her. God knows I have a lot to give right now, I’ll show her, and every single men on this earth that she’s mine. She starts to squirm beneath me, pulling at her bounds.
“Please.” She breathes desperately. I pull away from her, scared to look in her eyes, scared of what I’ll find in them. She wants to push me away, she wants to stop.
“What?” I ask breathlessly. Her eyes are veiled with haze, and it’s something I’ve seen plenty of times. Her eyes are filled with lust and unfulfilled longings.
“Touch me, please.” She whispers. Now, that’s begging. She’s begging, she needs this just like I need her. Oh, Abby. Seeing her so drunk on desire and lust makes my blodd sing, and brings me satisfaction. She wants me, only me, because she’s mine. I kiss my way down from her neck to her chest, paying extra attention and love to her scars, before trailing my tongue down between her collarbones, until I reach her perky breasts. She pants, her chest rising and falling, thrusting her lovely breasts in my face. I take them in my hands, and they fit perfectly, as always, as if they were made for me. I suckle on one of her nipples, and she mewls, her hips bucking under me. That’s right, baby.
I swirl my tongue around her nipple, making it wet, then I gently blow air on it so it’s cold. She moans, arching her back, giving me more to play with. I trace a circle with my tongue aroud her other nipple, making sure not to touch it, wanting her to beg for it. And she does, her back arching furthermore, but I don’t give that to her, wanting her to be all hot with frustration. My mouth latches on her breasts, and I bite and suck hard on her round moubds until her skin becones purple. I give her hickeys, tons of hickeys, leaving my mark on her, reminding her and everyone who sees them that she’s mine. Her breathing heaves considerabely, and when I look up at her, her head is thrown back, her mouth open as she pants. Damn…she’s really worked up. But that’s not enough, I want to make her crazy tonight.
I lick my way down her body, and she squirms in anticipation, letting out soft moans, her hips swaying, urging me to touch her where she needs me. I have to make a stop though. I gently run my tongue over her newest scar above her hip, and her breathing hitches. I take the swollen skin between my teeth and tug, hard, lifting her skin.
“Ah…” She moans, and I let go. The noise travels straight to my cock, and it twiches in response. God, I love the noises she makes. I move so I’m kneeling between her legs and push them apart, exposing her sex to me. I can see her arousal, I can smell it, I can feel it. She’s radiating with heat and glistening because of her wetness.
I run my tongue along the line of the apex of her thigh, right next to her sex and bite, and she mewls again.
“Please.” She purrs, bucking her hips. I fucking love it when she begs. I tease her for minutes licking her inner thighs and biting down softly, but never giving her what she wants.
“Please, Mark.” She groans, her voice hoarse. Damn, she wants this. She really is frustrated. Good, because I am ready as fuck. I’m so hard, my cock feels tight, bordering on painful, I need to have her now. I crawl back up her body, covering hers with mine. He head is slightly tilted to the side, her eyes closed, her lips parted as she breathes heavily, offering me her beautiful neck. I burry my face in the crook of her neck, my mouth seeking for her delicious skin. I leave one more mark on her, because like this everyone will see it. Then I claim her mouth again, long and aggressive, and she moans, letting my greedy tongue in, and I devour her sweet little cavern. Her taste is intoxicating, sharpening my arousal. She makes me wild. Groaning, I slam into her. She gasps, her lips letting go of mine.
“Oh, Mark.” She pants, squirming breneatg me. She’s so tight around me, so wet, all her muscles clenching like she didn’t want to let go. She’s so welcoming, and it feels so fucking good. She writhes and pulls on her restrains, and I feel her getting more wet by the second. Oh god, she’s killing me.
“I want to touch you.” She murmurs desperately, struggling with her wrists and wrapping her legs around my waist.
“Ask me to untie you.” I reply, reminding her she can stop this at any moment, though I hope she doesn’t. She sighs in pure frustration, and it makes me smirk. She relaxes a little, stopping moving, and I let her getting used to the feeling of me inside of her, my mouth lingering against the skin if her throat, contemplating the possibility of giving her another hickey, trying to distract myself from the burning heat and the wetness firmly wrapped around my cock.
“Please move.” She whimpers. It doesn’t take me more than a nanosecond to comply. I’ve been fighting the urge to thrust, and now I’m about to explode. Slowly, I pull out of her, and she whimpers at the loss. And then I surge forward and slam back into her. We both moan at the same time. She’s so wet for me right now, I know it’s because we’re trying something new.
“You like being like this, don’t you?” I murmur, pulling out of her again. She lets out an incoherent wail.
“Tell me.” I growl, slamming back into her again.
“Yes!” She cries. That’s it, now that I know she won’t stop, I can finally have her like I want her. I place my forearms on either sides of her arms next to her head, reaching under them to grab her hair. I grasp her firmly, tangling my fingers in her hair and tugging until she’s exposing her throat to me.
“Ready?” I ask her.
“Oh, please!” She pants. She’s almost angry, and I’m jubilating. If I wasn’t so close already I would tease her until she gets mad at me.
“Ready?” I press.
“Yes! God, Mark. Please.” She begs. I groan, unable to hold the play anymore and begin to thrust inside of her, hard and sharp, fast, relentless. She goes wetter with each pump, and it drives me fucking wild. She’s paradise, or hell, I don’t know, I’m losing it, I’m losing control of myself.
“God, yes!” She moans, her warm embrace quivering around me. I groan at the sensation and pick up speed, hammering her. There’s nothing beautiful in what we’re doing, it’s pure, down and dirty fuck. She undoes me, exposing my most primitive nature, my body taking over my needs and just pounding on, fueled by how damn good she feels. She cries out, starting to squirm beneath me once more, her body tensing.
“Oh, Mark, I…” She breathes desperately, pulling on her restrains. Oh no, not now. I force myself to slow down, thrusting slow and deep, pushing back her edge, wanting this to last.
“Please.” She groans. I loosen my grip around her hair and claim her mouth, wanting to distract her and myself from our primitive reflex, rolling my hips against hers, slowly, sensually. Damn, she feels so damn good. She’s overwhelming, bewitching, addictive, so flavourful, it makes my head spin. I tug at her hair again and she gasps throwing her head back. I start to pound again, beast mode, full force. I place a hand on her hip, holding her steady as I ravage her, not giving anymore but just taking. I take her, hard and angrily, my cock driving my actions, my mind blurred by the pleasure.
“Yes! Yes!” She cries, encouraging me. “Don’t stop, please, don’t stop.” She pants, her breathing heavy and erratic. I thrust hard and sharp, her body jolting with each thrust, my hips meeting the back of her thighs, making sure I reach deep. Her legs stiffen and tighten around me, hinting she’s close.
“Oh god, Mark! Mark!” She screams, and the fact that she says my name so loud makes me even more desperate for her. It’s my name she’s screaming while she welcomes me inside her, me and no one else’s. She’s mine.
“That’s it, Abby. Give it to me.” I rasp, my tongue running up her throat.
“Mark!” She cries, and I know her release is imminent, promising even more tightness, and the thought makes me double my efforts.
“Kiss me.” She breathes breathlessly. I let her hair go and take her mouth, tongue first, ravaging her mouth like her body, hungry and merciless, her taste making me lose my mind. She walls starts to quiver around me, and it makes me shudder, propelling me closer to the edge. Jesus, she’s so tight. He whole body goes rigid, rock hard, and she goes quiet, not a sound, not a word, she even stops breathing. And then it happens.
“Oh, fuck!” She yells, her back arching off the bed. She comes, hard, pulsating around me, her muscles clenching around me like they don’t want to let go.
“Abby! Oh fuck, Abby!” I moan, my hips reacting on they’re own. I’m out of control, pumping erratically, desperately, whole she comes, again and again, her whole body shaking beneath mine. She gives it all to me, her orgasm calling mine, and I thrust one last time, burying myself as deep as possible and pouring myself inside her, making her mine again.
“Oh, god!” I groan, my hips shaking, my whole body roaring against her quivering form. She pants, her body still not recovering from her release. She flexes her hips repeatedly, small gasp escaping her lips while I stay buried deep inside of her, my forehead against her throat, my eyes tightly shut. As soon as the euphoric feeling fades away, another familiar feeling invades me. Guilt. I feel guilty as hell. It could have been beautiful, but I perverted everything with my caveman behavior. My hand on her hip relaxes, and I realise I’ve been digging my nails in her skin. I must have marked her there too. Mmmh…I don’t regret that. I’m perverting her with all those new kinks. Hell, why do I feel the need to have her helpless? Why does it turn me on so much that I make it all about me?
When I look up at her, she’s softly hiccupping, still shaking a little, her eyes closed, a tear running down her face. She’s crying. I know she’s crying out of pleasure, I know it’s a good sign, but I still regret being such a dick. I brush my lips against her cheek, and she gasps my name, her hips rocking against mine.
“Shhhhh. I got you, baby. I’m here.” I murmur reassuringly. She relaxes and stops moving. Her breath hitches a little, and then she let’s out a long, long sigh. I hate that she has her eyes closed right now, they are aways clear and telling me how she feels. I need to know she’s not mad at me for being so rough.
“Open your eyes. Let me see you.” I murmur. Her eyes flutter open, and they are filled with all kinds of emotions.
“I love you.” She whispers, her words feeling both like a warm caress and like a stab in the heart. She shouldn’t love me, yet she does, and I treat her so bad. She doesn’t deserve this, she doesn’t deserve the beast I turn out to be whenever she’s around.
“I love you too, baby.” I reply, because that much is true and will never change. I lean in and kiss her tenderly, and her lips linger against mine, soft, soothing.
“I want to touch you.” She murmurs, reminding me she’s still tied up to the bed. I could keep her there forever, at least I would be sure she wouldn’t leave. But I think that’s a little bit unreasonable. I kiss her again and gently pull out of her before undoing her bounds.
I examine her wrists, suddenly scared I’ve tied them too tightly. They’re still white and delicate, I brush them against my lips. I sigh. What am I doing to this sweet, innocent girl? I should go to hell. But then I would want to drag her with me so I’ll still have her. I’m a selfish bastard, and she wants to touch me. I lay down next to her and tuck her under my arm.
“Touch away.” I murmur. She hums and runs her hand up and down my chest, her lips pressed to my neck, and it makes me feel blessed. She my blessing. She’s mine.
Her hand stops and her breathing slows, becoming more regular and heavy, and I know she’s fallen asleep. I’m always wearing her out, I need to stop. But I know I won’t stop, I can’t stop. And I think it’s okay, because she’s mine.
I wake up naked in a huge but empty bed, stretching to feel less stiff. I have no idea where Mark is, but I know he’s not far. I check the time: it’s almost nine in the morning. I get out from bed and walk in the bathroom, taking one of the satin robe and wrapping it carelessly around my waist. I brush my teeth, inspecting my face, making sure I have no dimples, no dark circles. I notice a dark mark on my neck and push my hair over my shoulder, discovering a small purple mark. The toothbrush stops in my mouth as I stare at the mark. My first reflex is to look for more, undoing the lash of my robe. I open it and almost choke on the toothpaste as I discover the purple galaxy on the top of my breasts. What has he done to me?
Hickeys! Mark gave me motherfucking hickeys! He marked me, I look awful. How dared he? I count them. Eight. He gave me eight ugly hickeys, he bruised my skin, he marked me. The huge wave of fury that sweeps through me makes me shake. I am shaking with anger. Covering myself again, I spit the toothpaste and rinse my mouth.
“Mark!” I call, storming out of the bathroom and pacing around to find him. He’s just coming out of the balcony, closing the French doors behind him when I spot him. I pace towards him, fuming with anger.
“You’re mad.” He says wearily as he watches me. Mad? No, I’m furious! He’s never seen me this mad before, simply because I’ve never been.
“You gave me hickeys!” I hiss.
“Yes, I did.” He says slowly.
“I hate hickeys!” I scream. His face falls a little and he frowns, confusion written everywhere on his features.
“You never told me.” He says quietly.
“You never asked! You never asked if you could leave marks on me!” I raise my voice some more, getting angrier each time he opens his mouth.
“You said you’d never say no unless you were mad.” He argues. My mouth falls open at his argument, because he’s right. But then it had never crossed my mind that he would take such liberties.
“But I can see, you don’t like it, and I won’t do it again.” He adds quickly, holding his palms in the air. Oh, if it all could be so simple. It may never happen again, but it happened, it threw me back to that feeling of being some kind of object, being used. I hate marks, I hate being marked, I hate those hickeys, they’re no different from my scars. Suddenly I’m not mad anymore, I’m mortified, and I start to shake, before bursting into tears.
“Hey. Abby, why are you-”
“Fuck you!” I spit, turning on my heels to go and hide myself.
“Hey!” Mark calls after me, grabbing my elbow. I jerk away from him, yanking my arm free and turning to glare at him through my tears.
“You marked me!” I scream.
“Yes! And I-”
“Just like Liam did!” I sob. He freezes as if stuck by a camion, his mouth hanging open on his unpronounced words. He’s shocked, the weight of his actions just sinking down on him now. He had no idea. He had no idea he was being like him.
“Liam, Henry, and now you!” I hiss. “You all left marks on me!”
“Abigail.” He says wearily, as if I was a cornered animal. He takes a careful step closer, as if he was scared I would run away.
“Look!” I open my robe enough to reveal the top of my breasts. His eyes slide down to take a look and then he looks away, as if it was disgusted with what he was seeing. “You joined the fucking club, are you happy?” I ask, angry tears rushing down my cheeks. I am trembling with anger and pain and sadness. He remains silent, looking anywhere but at me.
“Are you happy, Mark?!” I yell on top of my lungs, startling him. He brings his eyes to mine.
Hello, my name’s Ed Sheeran and I’m fucking brilliant. Can’t stop fangirling about the “Lève les bras et danse avec moi” which means “put your hands up and dance with me” in French. French Sheeranator is super happy ok. I’ll dance with you anytime Ed, just ask me whenever you want to !