“I don’t want to touch another,” I finally manage between breaths. “I cannotloveanother. Not as I love you. Why can’t they let me simply love you?”
Abraham’s chest hitches against me, his grip tightening on my back. “Oh, Jasper.”
“Will you leave me if I wed?” I ask, not wanting the answer, even as I need it. “Will you hate me?”
“No.” The word is quick. Soft. “Never could I hate you.”
“And the rest?” I ask, pulling back enough to see Abraham’s face.
“They would have to tear us apart.” His fingers brush through my hair as he holds my gaze, his touch so gentle it’s as if I’m glass he doesn’t wish to break. As if I’m a treasure.
“Would you take me, Abe?”
His breath is sudden and harsh. “Is that what you want?”
“More than anything,” I admit. “I want to be as close to you as possible. If I can feel you inside of me—” My throat catches, and I have to clear it before going on. “Then maybe they will never be able to take you away.”
Abraham kisses my cheek, one and then the other. He stands with me in his arms, my finery lying on the grass as Abraham brings me to our small and crumbling sanctuary. He sets me down on the blanket, the last of the sunaffording me a view I haven’t oft witnessed as Abraham strips to the nude. He holds my eye before turning, and I nearly lose my breath at the sight of his backside, his muscles flexing as he crouches to the ground.
He comes back with a small tin in hand.
“What is that?” I ask, recognizing the object as soon as the question leaves my mouth. “Leather oil?”
He nods as he kneels on the blanket in front of me. “I brought it here last time we came. Just in case.”
“In case of what?”
Abraham smiles, and my pulse hitches. “In case you might want me in this way.”
“Oh.”
He begins unbuttoning my breeches, and I have neither the wherewithal nor desire to stop him, even as my head spins. Abraham seems to sense my confusion, or perhaps he sees it plainly on my face, because he bends down, kissing me gently before meeting my eye.
“I do not wish to hurt you. And it may hurt some. This will help.”
“Will it keep me from cracking?” I ask, mostly in jest.
Abraham barks a laugh, his grin causing me to smile. “You will not crack like leather. But this will make it more pleasant for you. Trust me.”
“I absolutely do.”
His expression softens, and he tugs my breeches the rest of the way off. His eyes turn molten as they trace over me, my prick stiff beneath the bottom of my shirt. He lifts the fabric slowly, bending to lay a kiss upon my skin. This time, it’s not my mouth he shows his affection to. A sound escapes my lips, and Abraham kisses me again, licking over the top of my prick and rumbling his approval at my answering whine. He movesupwards to tug off my shirt, and with the both of us bared before one another, Abraham lies over me and captures my mouth.
My hands shake as I hold him close, the rightness of this bringing me nearly to tears. This—him and me—isn’t wrong. I refuse to believe it.
His lips dance with mine, each swipe enticing me, each parry a lure designed to draw me in. He can have the whole of me. I’d gladly lay myself at his feet if it meant even a minute more with Abraham.
He kisses down my neck. Over my clavicle. His lips press to my chest and my stomach and my hip. Deft fingers guide my knees to bend, my feet pressed flat to either side of Abraham as he settles back on his haunches.
My heart beats swiftly as he grabs the oil. He doesn’t coat his prick as I expect him to. He rubs it over his fingers.
“Abe?” I question, his name a gasp as those fingers touch me lightly.
His voice comes smooth and gentle. “I must stretch you, Jasper. If I do not, this won’t be a pleasurable experience for you.”
“You’ve done it before?” I ask, the answer seeming obvious.
“Does that bother you?”
