The Table by the Window Ch. 03

Abel pushed to his knees, pulling his shirt over his head. Sarah lifted a hand, running her fingertips over the very top of the tattoo that rode over his hip. "Did it hurt?"

"Everything that matters hurts, in one way or another. If it doesn't hurt, you can let go of it easily." Abel eased out of his pants, the belt making a dull thud on the carpet as it slid off the bed. "I'm trying to figure out just how you're going to hurt me."

Abel pulled her to a sitting position, her hand limp in his. It took a few tries to unhook her bra, between the shaking in his fingers and the languidness of her body. When he eased her back down to the bed, she grabbed one of his hands, brought it to her lips.

"I won't hurt you. I don't think I could."

"Which is why you can. You have no idea of your own worth." Tugging his fingers free, he ran them under the lace edge of her panties, her hips raising up as he slid them down, tossing them to the floor. "I think you're the only woman I've ever met who has the power to bring me to my knees."

"You probably shouldn't tell me that. I may use it against you." Sarah tried for light, teasing, even as her heart thudded in her chest. When he eased her thighs apart, traced his fingers lightly over the wetness he found there, she arched her hips up, asking wordlessly for more. They both sighed when he slid two fingers deep inside her, twisting them slightly in a way that made her catch her breath. Her next words were strangled and hoarse. "That's dangerous information."

Abel shook his head, sliding his fingers out, running them up to gently squeeze her clit. Her moan was loud in the quiet of the room. He shifted forward, pushing just the head of his cock into her, felt the hard clench of her inner muscles. "It's only dangerous if you give it to the wrong person." He thrust forward sharply, Sarah's hips arching up at the sudden fullness. Abel dropped his weight to his forearms, his face inches from hers. "You're not the wrong person."

Sarah swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry. "Abel--."

"Shh." He took her mouth in another slow, drugging kiss, held it until the last bit of tension drained out of her body. "Just shh."

Dipping his head lower, he ran his tongue over the curve of her breast, licking down to suck a nipple into his mouth. Even as he sucked hard, her back arching in response, he rolled his hips, keeping the same depth of penetration, the edge of his pelvis grinding against her clit. Sarah drew in a harsh breath, her lungs burning, one hand twisting in the duvet. "Abel--."

Abel shifted suddenly, capturing her mouth again. She could feel him struggle to keep the kiss soft, even while he rolled his hips again. This time they both moaned, the sound muffled by the not quite gentle kiss. When she would have raised her hips, he pressed her more firmly into the mattress, the additional pressure on her clit making her whimper.

The contrast left her head spinning, and she lifted both hands to fist them in his hair. The slick slide of his tongue curling over hers, the smooth roll of his hips, the almost painful pressure on her pelvis...the layers of sensation were rich and heady, like aged brandy. Abel lifted his head again, even as Sarah fought to keep his mouth fused to hers.

"Mine." Abel paused in mid-roll, fighting for control. Sarah slid her legs around his, felt him sink the smallest fraction of an inch deeper. There was an edge of pain now, and she bit her lip to keep from panting at how good it felt. When she squeezed her muscles around his cock, they both moaned again, hers trailing off into a whimper. "Mine."

Sarah nodded her head slightly, her heart hammering. Abel shifted his hips again, and suddenly she was on the edge of orgasm, where just one more movement would send her over. Abel stopped, his breathing as ragged as hers. "Say it, Sarah. Say it. You're mine."

"Yes." Sarah yanked his mouth back to hers, and Abel moved that tiny bit she needed. The orgasm poured through her, left her ears ringing, had her hands sliding weakly to the mattress. She felt the spasms wrack his body, and then the weight of him as he eased down on her. He laid his head between her breasts, and she managed to lift one hand enough to run her fingers through his hair.

"How's that for romance?" Abel's voice was weak, but the question drew a laugh from both of them. "If you want poetry, you're out of luck. My brain's fried for a little bit."

"You remind me of Dorothy Parker." Sarah's fingers twirled lazily in his hair, and she squirmed a little when he nipped at his torso with her teeth. "A quote, I meant. Not her, personally."

"I was going to worry about that for a moment." Abel ran his fingers over her ribs, but lightly, a whisper of a movement. "What quote, kitten? And it better not be the one about being under the host."

" 'His voice was as intimate as the rustle of silk sheets'. " Sarah paused her fingers when he lifted his head, the expression on his face unreadable. "What? I know some things."

"You'll get no argument from me about that. I was just thinking if I've ever had a better compliment."

"You've gotten reviewed by the New York Times."

"My books, not me. So I think you did just give me the best compliment of my life." Abel scooted up to brush his mouth across hers. "Mine, kitten. Mine."

"Yes."

The next day

Sarah looked up in surprise when the heavy bag hit the scarred table. "Hey. You said you wouldn't be here until...." She let the sentence trail off as she studied the man across from her. "Who are you?"

"That's not very nice, kitten." The man reached a hand across the table to brush her fingertips, but she drew her hand back, letting it rest in her lap. "Not very nice at all."

"Who are you?"

"Abel."

"No, you're not." He looked like Abel, the same hair, same eyes, same build, and same cocky attitude. He even dressed like him, in what she called his tortured artist clothes. Anyone else would see him, and think he was Abel.

But she knew it wasn't him.

"Now, that's not very nice, kitten." A look flitted through the man's eyes, and for the briefest of seconds, Sarah was afraid. She was relatively sure he wouldn't hurt her, not in such a public place, but that look made her doubt. "Not very nice at all."

"I thought I told you to get out of town. Again." Sarah turned her head at the sound of Abel's voice, as sure that the man standing to her left was Abel as she was that the man in front of her wasn't. "We had an agreement."

"Had. Not any longer. I don't need your financial assistance, so I'm not bound by your rules." The man smiled, and it was like seeing what Abel's reflection in a funhouse mirror would be--twisted and sinister and dark. "I think I'll be here for a bit."

"Abel. Who is this?" Sarah kept her seat, but reached out a hand for him. When he took it, she was surprised at the dampness of his palm.

"Yes, Abel. Tell your little kitten who I am." The man chuckled, clearly amused by something.

For a long moment, Sarah thought he wouldn't. Then Abel drew in a deep breath, let it shudder it out.

"Sarah, meet Cain. He's my brother."