Chevelle's Story

chapter 19

S  C  E  N  E  S    O  F    A  B  E  L  L  E

~ 01 ~

It's late morning. Chevelle and Abel are in his bedroom, lying in bed, scrolling through their phones. The sunshine is peeking in through the open curtains. There is a warm sunspot in the center of the bed that Chevelle has monopolized, and Abel lets her have it. He likes the way the sunlight sinks into her dark skin. Like it was made to shine for her and her alone. He doesn't even realize he's smiling as he sets down his phone and turns to her.

"Question."

"What's that?"

"Why aren't you sitting on my face right now?"

Chevelle's thumb that is tapping away at her phone freezes. She raises a brow and looks over at Abel with an amused smile. When she sees the cheeky look in his eyes, she sets aside her phone and pretends to think about his question for a moment.

"Hmm...I don't know," she finally says. "I think you might have to rectify the situation."

And upon hearing that, a wicked grin spreads across Abel's lips. He reaches over and scoops Chevelle up off the mattress and she lets out a yelp as he lifts her into the air and pulls her on top of him. When she feels his tongue swipe across her clit, her yelp dissolves into a trembling moan.

Chevelle glances down to meet Abel's heavy gaze. She tangles her fingers in his messy hair as they look deep into each other's eyes, sharing something that neither of them can quite explain.

As Abel swirls his tongue around her clit—as he sucks on it, nips at it—all he can think about is how none of this could be a coincidence. The way Chevelle came into his life at a time when he'd been so lost. At a time when he'd felt like he was drowning and couldn't break the surface. How, with nothing but her smile—nothing but the way she looked at him—she had placed the ground back beneath his feet and shown him that there was more. That no matter what the past held, there was always more.

As he runs his hands up her smooth thighs—as he grips her soft breasts, pinches her aching nipples—he wonders how he had managed to go through life not knowing her. He tries to remember what life had felt like before Chevelle, but he can't. He tries to think back. To remember if he had felt like there was something missing. That dull, gnawing feeling at the back of one's head—a yearning for something he had never known. He must have.

And as Chevelle comes undone—as her head falls back and her moans grow choked, throaty—Abel holds her secure, lapping up her juices as they leak into his open mouth. She squirms in his arms, but she cannot break free, and so she stops fighting it. She lets the shudders overtake her. She lets them roll through her body. She lets the pleasure pulse through her veins, thick and scalding. She lets her mouth fall open, lets whatever sounds her body wants to make rise from her chest.

And Abel soaks it all in.

Every taste, every touch, every sound.

~ 02 ~

It's early afternoon now. Chevelle and Abel are no longer naked, but they're by no means dressed. Chevelle is sitting at the kitchen island eating a bowl of Honey Bunches, watching as Abel whips up some doro wot. He says it's an exact science, but he makes it look so easy. The smell fills the entire house and before long, Chevelle is salivating—even with a belly full of cereal. On the counter, there is a bowl of injera batter that has been fermenting for three days. Abel has been planning to cook for Chevelle for some time now. Feeding the people he cares about is one of the ways he shows his love.