When she came into view of the mirror, Abel watched her approach, her face sleepy, her eyes on him, her hair tangled and messy, the vision of her starting to make him hard.
She said nothing. Just disappeared behind his back at the same instant he felt her hands light on the sides of his waist right before he felt her lips brush the indent of his spine.
He closed his eyes to fight against the pull of how good that felt.
He’d hoped he’d have this. Just this. He’d hoped when he found her this was what they would be. What he saw with Jian-Li and Ming. What he saw with all the women who had been family to him, who had held him close to their hearts, and who he had watched with the men they eventually let in them. The casual affection. The quiet support. The catching of eyes where things were communicated perfectly with no words, things no one else would understand except the two communicating them.
But having it…
It was more than he could have imagined and he’d spent over a century imagining it, building it up, making it so beautiful that deep in his gut he’d worried the reality would never live up to it.
But it did.
And then some.
It got better when he felt Delilah press her cheek to his back and whisper, “It’s early.”
Abel opened his eyes. “Yeah.”
“You didn’t sleep well,” she noted.
He thought she’d slept well, but apparently he was wrong. She’d felt his restlessness and he could tell by her tone and actions she was concerned.
Yes, she lived up to the dream and made it better.
“No,” he confirmed.
She slid her hands around so her arms were wrapped around his stomach. He felt her shift her head so her nose and forehead were pressed to his spine. When she did that, the soft feathering of her breath drifted down his spine and he again had to fight against going hard at the same time he gave the tightness forming in his chest free rein.
After she did this, she gave him a squeeze and assured, “It’ll be okay, honey.”
“I hope so.”
Another squeeze. “It will.”
He didn’t reply, just stared into his eyes in the mirror.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Shoot,” he invited.
He got another squeeze, this one seeming automatic, before she stated, “No recriminations. I don’t know why I need to know, I just do, and it’ll be okay because you’ve been around for a long time. You had a life. I get that. But have you, um…held another woman in your lap like you did with me yesterday?”
“Absolutely not,” he replied immediately and felt her tense at his back.
“Really?”
Abel wrapped his fingers around one of her forearms and gave it a tug. She got him, let him go, and he shifted her to his front, moving in so she was pressed to the sink.
She tipped her head back, lifted her hands to rest them on his chest, and he caught her eyes.
“I honest to God didn’t even know I was doin’ it with you,” he told her.
He saw relief in her face before she murmured, “I kinda sensed that, but I asked because I, well…had to be sure.”
“It’s only been you, Lilah.”
Her peering into his eyes turned to staring.
She understood what he was saying.
Two hundred years and only one.
Her.
Still, she asked, “What?”
“Never lived with a woman,” he informed her. “Never had a relationship. Never really even dated. Went out with women. Had drinks. Had fun. Did other shit,” he added the last carefully. “Nothin’ else. Especially not the lap thing.”
“That’s important,” she guessed, still staring in his eyes.
“Only realized it when Sonia pointed it out. But yeah. The minute I became aware of where you were and that I put you there, I knew I couldn’t handle you bein’ anywhere but there.” He dipped his face closer to hers. “Not another woman got that from me. Not another woman really got anything from me, save my dick. But I don’t think in all my years I’ve even put one in my lap for any reason, pussycat. Not shittin’ you. Musta sensed it was important so I didn’t do it.”
“That’s cool,” she whispered, the relief still there, but now it was heavier.
“Yeah.”
“So many things about you are cool, Abel,” she kept going and he felt her words deep in his gut. “The more you learn, the more awesome it all is.”
Fuck, he fucking loved that she thought that way. And she was not handing him a line, saying words to make him feel better. It was written clear in her expression.
Awe.
And something else. Something warm and exquisite.
Something he felt in his gut, tightening further in his chest, and hardening his cock in a way he couldn’t fight.
He gave in to the last, moved his hands to her nightshirt, and bunched it at the waist.
Her lips parted, her eyes went hooded, and he smelled the rush between her legs.
That did it; his cock stiffened and began to pulse.
He pulled her nightshirt up further, slid his hands in, then down. Hooking his thumbs in her panties, he pulled them down.
She bit her lip and leaned into him as they dropped to her ankles and she stepped out of them.
He gripped her hips and yanked her up, resting her bared ass on the edge of the sink.
She opened her legs, the lush rise of the scent of her cunt assaulting him, and he growled.
Her fingers went to the jeans he’d tugged on and gave a passable go at buttoning, leaving the last two undone. He dropped his mouth to hers and stared in her eyes, their breaths coming heavy, twining as she unbuttoned more, reached in, and wrapped her hand tight around his dick.