The Grind - Part Two

“I’ll be with you in a minute.”

The blue-eyed angel keeps her head down, tipping little plastic bags of coins into the till. I guess I’m the first customer of the day.

I see the change in her instantly. Her hair is a little darker, curled so provocatively I ache to wrap each strand around my finger. Her uniform is a little tighter; tight enough to see her slender frame and generous curves, but leaves enough to the imagination.

Her lashes are long, casting shadows on her rosy cheeks as she keeps her eyes on the task at hand. Her wrist is accessorised with a white watch, which contrasts against her sun-kissed skin. This little vixen has been on holiday and my what a vixen she is.

I can see the outline of her bra under her cotton blouse and it is no ordinary cheap t-shirt bra; it has lace around the cups and what looks like sequins lining the lace. An intricate silver chain with an angel pendant decorates her neck. The neck I wish to kiss and lick and savour. And there are matching stud earrings in the ears that cry out for a tug between my teeth, my tongue dipping in the shell and nibbling the flesh below it.

The bell above the door signals the arrival of another customer and the angel pushes the till shut and looks up. Her icey-blue eyes meet mine and a ghost of recognition hits her face, before she stands up straight and swipes her till card through the slot. Oh, I’d love to swipe through her slot.

“Triple shot, extra hot?” she asks, snagging her bottom lip between her teeth.

She recognises me. After two years of me convincing myself she’d moved on to bigger and better things, Abigail remembers our night together.

“You remember.” I say, trying to sound cool and collected when I am anything but.

“I never forget a face.” She grins and taps the till, before setting a jug under the machine and frothing the milk for my cappuccino.

“What can I get you?” she addresses the next customer, preparing my order but effectively brushing me off. She slides the cup across the counter, refusing to make eye contact, and takes a list of drinks from the other customers, which now form an orderly, suited-up queue.

I tip the sugar into the coffee, but leave my hand curled around the cup.

“I’m not in a rush.” I whisper when Abigail returns to collect my cup. I take hold of her wrist when she reaches out, and subtly rub small circles on the inside. I feel her pulse quicken under my touch and a flush spreads across her exposed skin.

Abby pulls away from me and concentrates on pouring the extra hot milk onto my triple shot. I see her take a deep breath and her thoughtful expression makes her look like she’s contemplating the meaning of life.

“I didn’t think I’d see you again.” She whispers, so only I can hear.

“I came back for you.”

Truer words were never spoken.

“Then don’t rush off.” Her mouth turns up in a core-melting smile and she turns away to assemble the rest of the coffees, refusing money for mine.

I stay at the counter drinking my cappuccino and watching Abigail gracefully move around the bar, a swish to her hips and glances in my direction that she thinks I don’t notice. Her skin is still flushed and pink, and I know she’s thinking of our night together, although the sofa has disappeared.

After half an hour, the rush is over and only a few customers linger on the plush seating.

“You should know,” Abby says, handing me a fresh coffee and glancing towards the door as the bell chimes, “I’m not the same girl I was before.”

“I can see that.” I reply, unable to hide the desire for her radiating from every fibre of me.

“Hi, Angel!” A high but clearly male voice chirps and my back straightens involuntarily. I’m almost ready to crouch and bare my teeth to this intruder. Angel?!

A man about my height, looking scarily like I did two years ago, appears behind the counter tying his apron and leans over to kiss my angel on the cheek.

“Hi, Brett.” She smiles, but her eyes flicker to mine, which are no doubt burning with rage, the colour of them sure to resemble that of the aptly named monster. I grab my coffee, ignoring the burn through the Styrofoam, and settle myself onto the nearest chair.

As I inhale the coffee, I watch the interactions between Abigail and her ‘mate’. Her flush has disappeared and she suddenly looks awkward. She doesn’t catch her breath when the scarily reminiscent Brett brushes his hand up her arm and she doesn’t reciprocate the look in his eyes that tell me they are more than just physically involved.

“Did you make a dinner booking?” Abby asks while pouring syrup into a latte glass. Abigail and syrup.

“Uh...no.” the ‘replacement’ replies, “I forgot.”

Abigail rolls her eyes and shrugs, then looks at me. Yes, I heard. I wink at her and watch her blush before she looks away.



~

“The rush is about to hit.” Abby says, a few decibels too high, “I’m going on a break.”

I look up from pretending to work on my iPad and the twitching in my trousers tells me this is my chance. A quick glance behind me, and my angel-induced arousal and I make our way to the toilets, taking a detour to the corridor that leads to the staff room. I lean against the wall and wait.

The five minute wait is worth it. Abigail comes out of the staffroom, her eyes cast down to the leather boots she has tucked her trousers into.

Her step falters when she looks up and sees me, but she continues past the entrance for the bar until she’s inches away from me and I smell her sweet smell. Coffee and caramel and my angel.

“Do you, uh,” she stutters, knotting her fingers and staring at my chest which is heaving with lust, “want to go get a sandwich?”

“You can get a sandwich here,” I smirk.

“Yes, but I can’t be here with you.”

I turn her so she’s backed against a door marked ‘stock’ and press my body into hers. Her curves fit my body perfectly, like two pieces of a jigsaw and I don’t care that her ‘boyfriend’ could come out to restock the coffee beans and catch me with his ‘girlfriend’.

“Edward,” Abigail breathes, both in protest and relief.

“I don’t want a sandwich. I have other ideas.”

I turn the handle on the stock room and we stumble into the tiny cupboard, filed with rows of glass-bottled syrups and packets of coffee beans I pull Abby into me, holding her body to mine as my back pushes against the door, so my hands can find her incredible backside. Abigail reaches for my shirt, grabbing the material loose where I opened it to distract her from Brett. She finally looks up at me, and our reactions to each other are palpable. She looks at my jaw, my mouth, my nose, my eyes, as if she can’t believe I’m here and she’s committing everything to memory. I squeeze her behind and pull her hips to meet mine. She gasps at the contact and bites her bottom lip.

“Why does he call you Angel?”

No answer.

“Why does he look like me?”

No answer.

I wrap my arms around her, reach up to hold the back of her neck with one hand, and tilt her head.

“Answer my questions, Angel.” I whisper, kissing her neck and taking her ear between my teeth.

“I can’t.” She swallows a moan.

“Why not?”

“It’s embarrassing.”

“I already know the answers, Abigail. I want to hear you tell me.”

“Because,” she tries to push me away, but I hold her in place, my mouth working on her burning skin, “I told him to. I imagine you saying it when he does. And he looks like you,” she moans as my tongue dips into her ear, “because it’s easier to imagine you on top of me, underneath me. Behind me.”

My body tenses at the thought of being buried in Abigail. Of her wanting me buried inside her.

“Where have you been?” she asks, sliding my hands up to grab two fistfuls of my hair.

“Trying to get you out of my system.”

I can’t hold back. I cup her face in my hands and bring her mouth to mine, my lips devouring hers, saying everything I feel but don’t have the emotional maturity to say out loud. I release her, gasping for air and holding her so tight, I have to let her go she can breathe.

“And did you?”

I shake my head, reaching out to caress the cleavage visible from her open buttons. She shivers beneath my touch, but throws her head back and closes her eyes. Ever the opportunist, I take the chance to bury my face in between her breasts, inhaling her sweet, angelic smell, and dipping my tongue out to taste her. She grips my head, holding me to her and a growl reverberates through my chest. Her skin erupts in goosebumps and a soft sigh escapes her.

“No.” I answer honestly, standing back and keeping my weight against the door as I slowly unbutton her thin shirt. I was right about the bra; it’s sheer black, lined with pink lace and shimmering sequins. It captures Abigail and all I remember her for. Her shy sensuality, her innocence, her beauty, “you are stunning.”

Her cheeks blush the same colour as her lace and she smiles. I pull the cups of her bra down, squeezing her handful-sized breasts together, stroking along her peaked nipples with my thumb. She stifles a cry, but an ecstatic smile spreads across her face.

“How does this make you feel, Angel?” I ask, releasing her for a split second to adjust the aching in my trousers.

“Good.” She replies; such a simple word, but filled with lust and desire and wrapped in her sweetly seductive tone.

“Does Brett make you feels this good?” I dip my head to taste her nipples, tugging them between my teeth, soaking them with my tongue.

“No,” she moans through gritted teeth and lunges at me, wrapping her arms around my neck and pressing her exposed chest against me.

Abigail leans her face towards me slowly, before running her tongue along my bottom lip and taking it between her teeth. I close my eyes and ache to have that tongue on every inch of my body. I open my mouth eagerly for her, urging her to explore the mouth that only has tastes for her.

Her breath leaves her in a rush as someone turns the handle on the other side of the door, and she jumps back, clamping her hand over her mouth.

“I bet she took the fucking key.” Brett mumbles to himself before his battle with the door handle ceases along with his whiney voice.

And then we both notice the sound of customers filling the shop; the clinking of ceramic, the hissing of milk being steamed, the laughter from a group of giggly women.

“We can’t do this.” Abby steps towards me, reaching for the handle, but her eyes betray her rejection.

“He won’t come back now.”

I hold a hand to her taut stomach and feel her tense beneath my touch as I push her until her back is pressed on the far wall.

“Do you trust me?” I ask, an eerie reminder of what I said to her on our first night together. Our only night together.

She nods her answer and I take a step back, “take your trousers and boots off.”

She swallows in anticipation and pulls her boots and socks off, before whipping her trousers off and throwing them in a heap on the floor.

“Why aren’t you taking yours off?” she asks.

“You want them off?” she nods, biting that damn bottom lip again. I lean forward, just enough to free it with my own teeth, “take them off.”

She smiles, the tigress in her coming to life, as confident hands reach out and free me of my belt and she swiftly pulls my trousers to the floor. I step out of them with my shoes and they join her clothes on the floor. I’m standing in nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs and my angel stands in her matching innocently-sexy underwear and her unbuttoned shirt.

Before I have a chance to reach out and touch her, she drops to her knees and takes my underwear with her. I look down to see Abby looking at my pulsating cock in admiration as she reaches out as if in slow motion to take me in her hands. I gasp as her small hands wrap around my shaft and push my hips to her rhythm. I close my eyes and lean forward on the wall.

“Fuck,” I growl, trying not to alert the shop as her tongue travels along the underside of my shaft, before she takes my swollen head in her hot, moist mouth. The feeling is unlike anything I’ve ever felt before, and this angel can suck. Her cheeks hollow, she grips my thighs and slides me in and out of her mouth. It takes everything I have not to grab her head and fuck her mouth like I want to, but after swiftly swallowing me to the back of her mouth, she stops. I look down to see her kneeling, hands behind her back and her glistening mouth open.

“Please, Sir.” She whispers, “fuck my mouth.”

I exhale in a rush and almost come in that moment. Abby looks up at me through long lashes and opens her mouth again, inviting me in. I take a deep, composing breath and comb my hands through the sides of her hair. When I’m satisfied with the grip, and she is visibly salivating, I slide through her lips, savouring the complete control she has given me. Her mouth and throat open up, her gag reflex minimal, and I’m soon thrusting into her mouth, relishing in the feel of her tongue stroking along the pulsing vein and her mouth sucking me like a lollipop. I feel everything tightening, my head turning light and fuzzy, and I know my release is imminent by the increased growling and curses I swore I’d never say in front of my angel.

“Stop, stop.” I hold Abigail's and she releases me with a final loud suck that makes my body shudder in need.

“Stand up.” She takes my hands and I pull her to her feet, “It’s payback time.”

I drop to my knees, happy to kneel in front of the vixen I have a feeling I created, and slide her underwear down her silky legs, noticing she has no tan lines. I part her legs with one hand, the other still gripping her hand, and her arousal glistens back at me.

“Who did this to you?” I ask, stroking one finger between her soaking lips and look up at her as she arches her back, “did Brett do this?”

She shakes her head, as her eyes roll and close, “You. It’s all for you...Sir.”

“I want you to cry my name when you come.”

I slide one finger through her wetness and she tightens around me, sucking in a jagged breath. I lift her leg over my shoulder, opening her up to me, and lean forward to taste her. She tastes just how I remember, and it’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted. She gasps and fists my hair with both hands, as my tongue flutters against her clit and my finger strokes deep inside her. I lap up her escaping juices with my greedy tongue, and spread them around her delicious flesh. Her knees buckle and in a stroke of genius I lift the other leg over my shoulder, gripping her behind and squeezing as I growl and it vibrates through her. I kneel up, sliding her back up the cold wall, and her sudden release shudders through her and Abby bites her fist to stifle her sounds.

“You’re a naughty girl,” I whisper, looking up at her and setting her onto her shaky feet.

“Why?” she reaches up to wipe her juices from my mouth, but I capture her fingers and pull them into my mouth, sucking on them like she did my aching cock.

“You were supposed to call my name.”

“I couldn’t breathe, there’s no way I could talk.”

With a smile, I run my fingers up and down her waist, before grabbing her and hoisting her around my hips. She tightens her hold, digging her heels into my lower back.

“I want you to fuck me harder than you’ve ever fucked anyone,” she begs, the need evident in her voice. I feel my eyebrows furrow.

“What?”

“I only ached for a few days.” She goes shy suddenly, “I want the reminder for longer this time.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Now it’s her turn to look confused, but her expression is soon drowned out by her closed eyes, short breath, and sighs as I gently slide through her.

“But-”

“I’m not going anywhere.” I say, trying desperately not to detonate the second her warm, tight heat closes around me, “I’m taking you to dinner. Anywhere you want to go.”

She opens her mouth to reject me but I bury my face in her neck, tasting the perspiration, grip her hips, digging my nails into her skin, and thrust into her so she cries out every time I fill her. Abigail claws at my shoulders, bites my neck and urges me on in the voice that I’ve dreamt of for too long.

“Edward,” she cries, “oh god, just like that.”

She begs me not to stop, to fuck her harder, deeper, faster. She begs me to pull her hair, bite her neck, and finally she asks me to kiss her. Our lips collide and our bodies ignite; both of us coiling and tightening. She comes first, gloriously crying my name into the crook of my neck and contracting my own orgasm. I come violently, with a shudder, and sink to the floor taking my angel with me. She feathers my face with kisses, wipes the sweat from my brow and holds me tightly.

“I have to get back to work.”

She stands up, our combined juices trickling down her leg, and instantly I’m ready to go again. She tears open a packet of napkins and cleans herself up, before handing me a wad. We dress quickly, stealing the odd kiss and when we’re fully clothed again, Abigail looks down at the pile of napkins on the floor. The smell of sex fills the cupboard, mixing with the vanilla syrup and I need to get out before I take her again. I crouch down for the tissues, shoving them in my pocket and pull her in for one last fiery embrace before letting her go, my heart constricting at the smile I receive.

“Dinner, tonight.” I rest my hand on the handle, put on hand in my pocket and pass slide my business card into the top pocket of her shirt, “I’ll come and get you when you finish.”

“Yes, Sir.” She winks.

After another deep breath, I peek out of the cupboard and noticing there’s no one around and the ‘rush’ seems to be over, I take Abigail’s hand and pull her out of the cupboard.

“I’ll see you tonight.” I smack her backside as she walks away, before turning to leave.

“I thought you went for a sandwich?” I hear Brett ask her.

“I fancied something a little more filling.”

I cover my laugh with a cough as I walk past the till and leave the coffee shop.

I don’t look back.

I trust her.