Page 38 of Desired By you (Always & Forever #3)

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Gabriella

I definitely should have stopped drinking two drinks ago.

Brad took me out for dinner as promised, and I ate the best steak I’ve ever tasted and drank pink champagne like it's water. I’m not drunk, but I’m nearly there.

“Come on, have one with me,” I plead, pulling a new bottle of pink champagne from the refrigerator and walking over to the white couch that faces the open doors that look over the valley and sit beside him.

I’m going to miss watching the sunset and doing my morning workout on the patio.

Brad shakes his head and sips on the whiskey he’s been nursing since we got back.

“Can I ask why? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you drunk.” It’s a personal question; one I have no business asking. I go to apologize, but he offers me his reasons.

“When I was younger, I got caught up in some bad shit, and drinking and drugs were my go to way to cope with it all. When we lost Scotty on our last deployment, I could feel the temptation to go back to that life, so I like to keep in control. I just have a little, but never enough to lose control.”

I reach for his hand and give it a reassuring squeeze. “That’s incredibly admirable. Not many people possess that kind of strength.”

I’m sure our conversation will end there, but he continues. “It’s not easy, but joining the military gave me a focus. I joined with Scotty, and a year later, Noah, Jack, and Harry joined, and they all saved me in their own ways. The decision to join the Marines saved my life.”

“You must really miss him,” I say, referring to Scotty.

“Every day,” he says under his breath, his voice cracking as he places a hand over his chest, over where I know a set of dog tags hang.

The need to comfort him becomes too strong. I place the bottle of champagne down on the table, crawl into his lap, straddle him and begin, stroking his jaw with the pads thumbs, loving the way his stubble feels under my touch.

I smooth my hands down his neck and onto his chest. He doesn’t say anything, his eyes laser-focused on my hands as they undo the buttons one by one. I open the shirt, pushing it back, revealing his toned muscles, his tattoos and the dog tags.

I lift them and run my thumb over the cool metal, the embossed letters and numbers have a few scratches and dents over them.

“Are these Scotty’s?” I ask softly.

“Yeah, his family gave them to me after the funeral. Said they wanted me to have them.”

My heart aches at the sound of his tormented voice.

I can’t imagine losing Ali or Ria. It’s something I’m not sure I’d ever recover from.

He’s been through so much, and underneath the harsh exterior is a man who cares deeply, and I feel honored to have been on the receiving end of it. Even if it's only for a little while.

I place the chain back down and trace my finger over the lines of his tattoos.

“What made you get all your tattoos?” I slide my hand in his and interlock our fingers.

“I really like these ones.” I place a kiss to the back of the tattoos on his hand.

I wouldn’t have dreamed of being this brave a few months ago, but with him, I feel confident and free to be how I want to be.

“I got them to cover up the reminders of my past.” My face falls at his admission.

“What do you mean?” Anxiety swirls in my stomach, wondering what he’s done or what he’s been through, that he felt the need to cover it up.

“I’ve done some bad things, Gabriella. Every time I looked at my hands, they were just reminders of the bad shit I’ve done, the people I’ve hurt and the people I couldn’t save,” he says quietly, his voice tight as he stares down at his hands.

“So, I covered them, and then it became an addiction; one that wasn’t going to kill me, so I kept going.

Everyone has a story, but…” He clears his throat, and I sense this is becoming too much, so I lean in and press a kiss to his chest to comfort him.

His skin instantly pebbles under my touch, and I continue dusting him with kisses until I feel his body relax under my touch.

“Thank you for opening up to me,” I say softly, between kisses.

“You’re the only woman I could open up to like that, Mia cara.” I raise my head to look at him. Those words mean everything. He’s helped me in ways I can’t explain, and if I can do that for him too, then why does this have to end when we go home?

“You help me forget all the bad in my life.”

Oh, my heart.

“I want you,” I whisper, my voice raspy and desperate, and I do one of the bravest things I’ve ever done, I crash my mouth down on his, and when his fingers weave into my hair and kisses me back with the same fervor, I rotate my hips over him, desperate for some friction. My hands work his buckle.

“I want you to have all of me,” I confess through panted breaths and frantic kisses.

“We can’t,” he murmurs against my lips.

“We can. I need you.” My breathing is hot and heavy as I reach inside his pants.

“Gabriella, stop.” I stiffen and pull back, hurt by his words.

“I’m sorry.” My words are barely a whisper.

Embarrassed at my boldness, I climb off his lap and hurry to the bedroom. God, I read that situation all wrong. Tears prick at my eyes, and I want to hide and cry over his rejection, but he’s hot on my heels.

“Gabriella, wait.”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed. I just… Is it because you don’t want me like that? Are we done with this now, or did I do something wrong? Did I…”

I don’t get to finish my words. He clutches my waist, turning me to face the full length mirror opposite our bed. His wild eyes latch on to mine in the reflection. My racing heart is ready to break through my chest in anticipation for his words, his next move.

“Don’t see you like that?” His words are laced in something I don’t recognize and I try to step away but he holds me tightly, burying his face into the crook of my neck, nipping and sucking at my heated skin. My head rolls to the side, giving him more access.

“You, Gabriella, are all I fucking see.”

He works the zipper on my red dress, and I hold my breath.

“… all I think about…”

The dress slides from my body and pools at my heeled feet, leaving me in nothing but a pair of black laced panties.

“… All I want.”

I suck in a breath, closing my eyes, feeling a wave of dizziness wash over me.

“Open your eyes Mia cara. You are going to watch me…”

His large tattooed hand glides across my exposed torso, setting fire to my skin with each movement, and when he cups my breasts and rolls my nipples between the pads of his fingers, my head falls back into his chest.

“… I’m going to show you exactly what I see when I look at you.”

He gently tugs on my nipples, and I gasp, pushing back my hips, searching for some friction.

“These tits, they were made to fit in my hands.” He massages my breasts with the palms of his hands, and I lean in to his touch, needing more.

When he releases them, I whimper in disappointment, but I’m caught off guard when his hand moves to my throat and squeezes lightly.

“I’m going to make you come and you’re going to watch and see what I see.”

I swallow, and the feel of his digits around my throat sends a rush of heat to my core.

He brings two fingers to my mouth and pushes them inside without permission, and I welcome it.

“Suck.”

I swirl my tongue, coating the pads of his fingers with my saliva. He pulls them out without warning and tightens the hold on my throat.

“Take off your panties.”

I don’t hesitate. I slide them over my hips and let them fall on top of my dress, and I can already feel how wet I am, how ready I am for him to take me; however he wants me.

His fingers swipe through my folds, smearing my arousal up over my swollen clit and my body jolts at the contact.

“So fucking wet already. Is your cunt begging for my cock, Gabriella, huh?”

I don’t say anything. I slide my hands up to lace my fingers around the nape of his neck to steady myself.

“Is that what you want? Me, buried inside you.” He circles my clit, over and over again, forcing my eyes shut and my bare ass to grind against him.

“Yes,” I manage to choke out.

“Open your eyes,” he growls.

“You are going to watch and see how pretty you are when you come.”

I blink my eyes open, focusing on him in the mirror, his whiskey eyes now dark and hooded. I watch in fascination as his expert fingers work my clit and tremors rush through my body as my orgasm builds.

I bite down on my bottom lip to stifle another moan, his now growing erection presses into my ass and I circle my hips, encouraging him.

“You want my cock, Gabriella, then say it.”

“I want…” He steals my words when he strums my clit faster.

“Say it,” he hisses into my ear, his fingers flexing around my throat.

“I want your cock.” I pant, my body beginning to convulse as the wave of my orgasm is about to reach its peak.

“Brad, please.” His name falls from my lips like a prayer.

“Eyes on me.” His words are rushed, his movements never relenting. I glance up, his fingers squeeze my throat a little tighter, our eyes lock, my body stiffens, and then he says.

“Gabriella, Come.” And I fall apart. Warmth floods my body, my thighs clamp shut, trapping his hand between them, my world blurs, and all I feel is his hard body behind me as I go limp against him. His lips find mine, and he kisses me, breathing me in as I float back down to reality.

I’m startled when he pushes away, and I stumble. He swipes a hand through his hair in frustration, his chest heaving, matching the rhythm of mine, and I see the conflict in his eyes.

“You see, Gabriella, you are all I fucking want. I know how to take control of your body in the same way you do with my mind. But we can’t go further than this.” He gestures between us, and I feel anger bubbling inside me.

“Why? Tell me why?”

“Why? You want to know why?"

I nod, straightening my spine. He takes a step closer, cupping my face in his hands that tremble when his skin meets mine.

“Because, if we go there, if we connect in that way, if I feel what it’s like to be inside of you, I’ll never be able to let you go.”

It feels too painful to swallow, his admission too much to process. He wants me.

“What if I don’t want you to let me go?”

I barely finish my words before he crashes his lips down on mine, and our kiss turns frantic. He turns me and walks me back till my heels hit the bed frame, laying me down carefully as if I were made of glass.

He rips off his shirt and tugs off his pants and boxer briefs as I shuffle up the bed, my heels still on.

He crawls on top of me, covering his naked body with mine, and settles in between my legs. His mouth is back on me, and he kisses me with a want that is verging on feral.

I wrap my legs around his waist and move my hips, desperate for the friction. My swollen clit rubs against the slick head of his penis, and I whimper when he kisses the sensitive flesh of my neck.

“Yes,” I hiss when his teeth graze me, the perfect mixture of pleasure and pain hitting me at once.

He pushes on the inside of my thigh to widen my hips and takes a moment to scan my body. "You look so beautiful, Mia Cara.”

The use of that name has my eyes fluttering when I feel the head of his pierced cock pressed against my entrance. I prepare for him to push inside me, for us to break the final barrier that we have between us, but his head falls to my chest, and he lets out a frustrated moan.

“Fuck, I haven’t got a condom.”

That should be enough to slow this down. I never take a risk, but it doesn’t. “I’m on the pill. We don’t need one. I want this.” He lifts his head and looks me dead in the eyes.

“Are you sure? I’ve never gone without one, so I’m…”

“I know,” I say reassuringly. “I trust you.”

He tells me he’s dangerous and has a dark past, but why do I feel the safest when I’m in his arms?

“I’ll go slow.”

I widen my hips, inviting him in. His eyes never look away from me when he lines up his cock with my entrance and slowly sinks inside.

We both moan in pleasure. A sharp sting hits me when he’s fully seated, but the pain is fleeting, and it only takes a few seconds for me to grow accustomed to his size and the pressure his piercing creates.

I suck in a breath when he begins moving.

“Are you okay?” he asks, concern in his voice.

“Yes.” My voice is barely a whisper. “Don’t stop.

” He swallows my moans and kisses me like the world will disappear.

His tongue glides with mine; it's hot and wet, the sensation spreading warmth through my body tingling up and down my spine, making me feel a little dizzy.

Needing to anchor myself for fear I will fall in some way, I grip the back of his neck and hook my leg over his waist, pulling him closer.

“More.” I pant. “I need more.”

He takes that as his cue to quicken his pace, sliding his hand into mine, lacing our fingers together, and pinning them above my head.

I tilt my hips, and his piercing hits and ignites something inside of me.

Every stroke alights my nerve endings, sending bolts of pleasure through my body, my orgasm now hovering near the surface.

“You feel so fucking perfect.” He groans against the hot skin on my neck, sending goosebumps all over.

My legs begin trembling, and I’m not ready for this to be over.

I need more. I don’t want him to treat me like I’m fragile.

I want him to take me exactly how he wants me, so in a moment of recklessness, I utter words I may regret because I know they will never be true.

“Fuck me like you want me.”