Page 42 of Flying High

Chapter 19

Dean

“Quick, in here,” I whisper, pulling Abbi behind through a wide wooden door and closing it firmly behind us. She lets out a breathy laugh at my haste. I’m in a serious hurry. I’ve shared Abbi all day long with an endless list of people who wanted to talk to us.

Right now, I want her to myself.

The wedding wassophisticatedandclassic, at least according to Abbi and my mother. James would be so pleased with that feedback, I’ll have to remember to tell him. Held in a heritage building in the middle of the city that used to be a courtroom—how fitting for the nuptials of two people in the legal profession. A lunch will be held in the attached ballroom—who knew courthouses used to have ballrooms—that’s been transformed with tables and chairs off to one side and a dance floor. There’s been a whole lot of silver and gold and a color that was almost white but not quite. Thank God there wasn’t a massive snowy white marshmallow dress, although I’ve kept my opinion about that to myself.

Abbi and I had a prime position in the second row, and the whole affair was done with minimal fuss. There was one attendant for the bride and groom, and the vows were simple and meaningful.

Chase and his date, Hannah, sit a few rows back. I had to stop Abbi from stumbling when she clapped eyes on the couple earlier. Not sure what’s going on there, but not knowing one’s roommate will be attending the same wedding as you are seems a little strange. Abbi shot her friend what I can only describe asthe look, so I guess they have a conversation coming at some point. And Chase wasn’t giving anything away in the few words we exchanged while we were politely but firmly ushered to our seats by an attendant.

James, standing at the altar waiting for his bride, looked as sharp as I’ve ever seen him in a crisp navy suit. He met my gaze and somehow conveyed all the happiness he feels and the hope he has for his marriage with Cleo by his side. He’s a lucky guy to have found someone he’s head over heels with, and more to the point, who’ll put up with him. I’m thrilled for him, and I know I’ve found that person for myself too.

The only thing that’s been a slight distraction has been the slightly maniacal grin on my mother’s face. I’m sure I saw her do an actual fist pump when I walked in with Abbi earlier on. She managed to keep her cool when I formally introduced the two of them but suspect the smile won’t be leaving her face for some time. There’s also the off-putting side-eye that she keeps giving me. Watching, looking, studying, as though she doesn’t quite believe her eyes. I don’t think she’s interested in anything but Abbi and me. It’s distracting, and I’d much rather all my attention go to Abbi. Sure, it’s been a while since Mom’s seen me with a woman, but I’m not sure how looking over at us every ten seconds is necessary. She’s going to develop a crick in her neck.

I bet she practically did cartwheels when my dad reported back to her last night. I had a few missed calls from that I didn’t see until this morning, followed up with text messages telling me she was thrilled to hear I had a date for the wedding and was looking forward to spending the day with us.

Hopefully, the novelty will wear off soon.

When it was announced that there’d be a break in the evening for the bride and groom to take more wedding photos, I didn’t hesitate to grab Abbi’s hand and take off to a quiet corner to get my hands on my girl again. I also want to dodge my parents, who no doubt want to chew our ears off and coo over Abbi.

Annoyingly, this can only be a quickie, but I can make sure it’s a damn good one. Hustling her into the dimly lit room, which might be some sort of furniture storage room, I find the nearest wall and back us up against it, locking the door behind us.

“Yes,” she whimpers, and our mouths connect with an initial gentleness that quickly escalates into desperation, which doesn’t surprise me in the slightest. I didn’t set out to fall on her like a man possessed, but she’s so tempting, so it’s not long before I’m eating at her lips, feasting.

“I don’t know how gentle this is going to be,” I growl in warning, rocking my hips into her hard.

Abbi angles her head to deepen the kiss and reaches up to keep me in place, her fingers sliding against my scalp, her nails digging in to let me know she’s got no objections.

I slide my tongue against hers, flicking back and forth, making her tremble. She rocks her hips against me, and my cock jerks at the movement. There’s no need to be subtle—I want her to know I’m hard, hungry, and ready for her. On a moan, she spreads her legs, snakes a hand down, and hikes up the silky green dress she’s wearing, not stopping until it’s around her hips. She then drags me against her so our cores clash.

“Ohhh,” she moans as I push into her softness. She digs her nails into my ass, trying to urge me into action. Now that she’s in such a rush, I perversely want to slow down and savor her. This is all still new, and it’s not like we have lots of sex under our belts, but what we do have has been stellar.

I don’t want this to be any different.

It’s a little bit risky, a little bit public, and alottime-constrained. I like to think that I do some of my best work under pressure, so with that in mind, I hitch one of her legs up around my waist and watch her shiver as I reach between us to pull aside her barely-there panties.

“Oh God, that feels so good,” she says on a whimper as I make a path through her folds with my thumb, then quickly move to unzip my suit pants and rubber up. I trace the same path with my cock, touching all the good spots, bending my knees, and slowly making my way to her slick entrance.

Pushing only the crown inside, Abbi’s eyes clench down hard.

I throw her arms above her head, pinning her wrists to the old floral wallpaper with one hand, the other under her raised knee for leverage.

I begin to thrust my thick shaft into her, and she shivers again, a moan escaping her as I pump hard and deep into her, hitting deep in her core despite the angle. Her hips start to rock, and somehow, she’s riding me, slippery with juices and tight. So tight.

I press my thumb over her clit and rotate it gently until she’s gasping and helplessly grinding her hips against me, seeking out my fingers, needy for a climax. If we stay here too long, someone will come looking, and with so many people I know at this wedding, the last thing I want to do is cause embarrassment to Abbi if word gets around we’re at it like animals in a storage room.

So, to bring things to their conclusion, I take over, punching my cock deep into her. When a needy moan leaves her mouth, and I feel her flittering around my length, I grunt and slam home once, twice, and feel my seed start to spill into the condom.

Abbi opens her mouth to let out a scream, and I quickly cover her lips with my hand as she orgasms so hard, her head bangs back against the wall. When she finishes pulsing around me, she sinks back against the plasterwork and blinks her eyes.

I gather her against my chest and kiss her temple as she catches her breath.

“Fuck,” I murmur, pressing my mouth to the top of her head. “That was intense.”

She nods against me, and I slip out

and hand her the handkerchief from my suit jacket. Once she’s cleaned up, I wrap the condom, fold it, then pocket the evidence and help her straighten her dress and hair. Lucky, the relaxed, loose curls don’t show any sign of my molestation.

“Come on,” she says, tugging me after her as she starts toward the door. “I told your mom I don’t work at Match X anymore, and we got interrupted before I could finish telling the story.”

“I still can’t get over how this all went down,” I say, shaking my head as we step into the hallway. “Toiling away for years at Match X, setting me up with a bunch of women, then quitting and keeping me for yourself.” She shoots me alookand thumps me on the arm, and we both laugh out loud.

I think teasing Abbi will be one of my favorite things to do.

---