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Gabriel

Ikick open my bedroom door and lay her down gently on my bed, unable to stop kissing her. It’s been an eternity since her lips were last on mine.

“Gabriel,” she pants, leaning back against the dark bedspread. “Don’t you want to know why I’m here?”

“No,” I tell her honestly. If she’s warm and willing in my arms, I’m not going to question it, even after Dad’s warning. I need her too much. “If you start talking, you might talk yourself right out of this bed. And I can’t have that happening for any reason.”

She unsuccessfully tries to hide a grin. She takes a moment to compose herself, then softly says, “Serena’s calling off the wedding.”

My stomach drops, but in that good way, like when you’re on the summit of a rollercoaster, uncertain what’s in store for you next, but excited to find out.

“And I figured,” she continues, “since you still held up your end of the bargain, your dad can’t hold it against you.”

Oh, I’m sure he’ll find a way. But I’m not concerned with that right now.

“So you’re mine? Fully mine?”

She nods shyly, reaching a hand up to stroke my cheek. “I’m yours. If you’ll have me.”

If I’ll have her? Doesn’t she know she already owns me?

I lean down, not wanting to waste time with more words, and kiss the everloving hell out of her, her lips sweet, decadent. I lick my way into her mouth, swallowing her soft groan, and lean on one elbow so I can have both hands free to do what I’ve longed to since the first moment I laid eyes on her.

Touch her.

I give in to the urge, moving my palms over her gorgeous breasts, kneading her gently. She lets out a sound of need at first contact, my dick already primed and ready to go at her enthusiasm. “You like it when I touch you?” I whisper, shaping her soft weight.

“I love it. I’ve wanted your hands on me for so long.”

She brings her own hands up over my shoulders, her nails scraping lightly down my back. Oh, fuck, that’s good.

I fumble to tug my shirt over my head, flinging it on the floor. There’s time for smooth seduction later. Right now, I just need her.

She sits up and presents her backside to me, coquettishly peering at me over her shoulder. “Will you take this off?” she asks, indicating the zipper down the back of her dress.

I slowly slide it down, peeling off her clothes, her white lingerie a tantalizing mixture of innocent and seductive. Settling her on the bed, I slip a bra strap down to reveal a perfect breast, the temptation to taste her overwhelming.

I give in, bending down to take a nipple into my mouth, her groan of satisfaction spurring me on until I remember her words from last night.

I like it slow.

I reduce my efforts, gently lapping at the hard bud, enjoying the way she sifts her fingers through my hair, the way her breaths become increasingly louder as I continue, the way she eagerly moves underneath me.

“I need more,” she moans, tugging at the ends of my hair.

“My woman likes it slow,” I smirk. “She told me herself.”

She lets out a half feral growling sound. “Not when I’m desperate.”

I tug down her other bra cup, taking my time switching sides, laving her with small kisses, sucking her nipples gently. And just when she’s probably ready to hit me over the head, I snake a hand down her body, dipping two fingers inside her pussy to tease her.

Her thighs tense, heels digging into the mattress to leverage herself further up, but I keep my strokes shallow.

“Tell me you want me,” I murmur against her tender skin.

“I want you.”

I increase the pressure. “You need me.”