Chapter 27
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Gabriel
I’ve never shared my cabin with anyone. Not only is it fairly small, but it’s always been my sanctuary, my escape. My chance to get away from it all. While I can be charming and social, I’m generally introverted and need a chance to get away from people. Expectations, responsibilities, all of it. My cabin is that to me.
In some ways, I was nervous about bringing Monica here. I mentioned it in a realtor meeting months ago about having a team-building day up here on my property. Still, I had every intention of keeping the cabin to myself. I didn’t want anyone in my space.
But having Monica here feels so right that I’m struggling with second-guessing all of my thoughts regarding her.
Am I too far invested in her? Is this going too fast? Is she going to change her mind?
These questions immediately parlay into my fears about her family. Matt and Liam are still looking into the connection between Nicolas and Monica. We all know it’s a real issue, but Nicolas has gone completely mute. I’m scared shitless that something significant is about to happen, and I’ll be powerless to stop it. To protect my querida .
On our last day at the cabin, Monica finally pulls out all of the trimmings for her s’mores. Surprisingly, I’ve never had a s’more. While my parents were all about living as Americans and experiencing all the weird ‘traditions,’ my m?e could never get on board with anything involving marshmallows. “Pig should not be sweet,” she’d tell me. As a child, I was horrified about how a pig could be where marshmallows come from. It took finally reaching adulthood and researching to comprehend what my mother meant. Marshmallows include gelatin, which is made from boiling various pig parts. After learning that, I understood my mother’s aversion to anything marshmallow related.
I warily stare at Monica while she gleefully turns her marshmallow over the fire pit, and I shudder.
“What?” she giggles.
“I don’t see the appeal.”
“Of marshmallows? Or s’mores in general?”
“Both. Setting a gelatinous white ball of goo on fire does not seem appealing.”
“You’re going to need to trust me, tesoro ,” she says with a wicked grin.
“I trust you implicitly, querida . I can trust you without eating that mess,” I tell Monica with a disgusted frown. I’m not a super healthy eater. I enjoy food, but I also understand that certain foods are ridiculously unhealthy for my body. So watching Monica as her marshmallow seems to lose its structure before she slurps it into her mouth doesn’t seem to cut it for me.
“You’re watching me like I just ate a live bug,” Monica muses as she licks her fingers. My traitorous dick twitches in my jeans. Watching her lick a sticky white substance off her fingers is tantalizing. Still, I need to get ahold of my carnal urges regarding Monica. Shaking my head, I try to devise an excuse for why I can’t try the s’more. It just seems disgusting. Not only the taste but the texture makes me want to hurl.
“I don’t think I can do this, querida . It’s too gross,” I murmur.
“Seriously?” she asks as she studies my face. “You’re awfully pale, Gabriel. All because of a marshmallow?”
“Pretty emasculating, huh,” I joke with a pained chuckle.
“It’s not emasculating to admit something concerns you or scares you. I love that you trust me enough to be honest with me. Admit you’re struggling. I don’t judge you based on these things, tesoro .”
I nod, unable to respond. Monica may say it isn’t emasculating, but I’m certainly not feeling like a man right now. I’d lay my life on the line for her right now if I bear strolled up, yet a fucking marshmallow is about to take me down.
“Let’s make it a fun game, shall we?” Monica says as she stands up. “Stay here. I’ll be right back. I need a couple of things.”
My brow furrows in confusion as I wait for her to return. How can she make this a game?
Before I can ask her a question, fabric covers my eyes from behind.
“What are you doing, querida ?” I ask as my hands come up to feel the fabric. It feels like one of my ties.
“I have a feeling it’s a texture thing for you. So, we’re going to have some fun with food. I’m going to feed you different things, and you have to tell me about them. What the food tastes like, feels like, smells, and whatnot. Just tell me what you’re experiencing with each item. Okay?” Monica explains. I take a deep inhale and nod. “Open up.”
I hesitate briefly, enough that Monica sighs.
“Trust me, tesoro . I won’t force the marshmallow on you.”
I chuckle. I can’t believe this is all because of a damn marshmallow. I dutifully open my mouth before Monica places an item on my tongue. Maybe having my eyes covered makes my other senses step up because the flavors that burst on my tongue are unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. A nutty and fruity combination swirls together to create a harmonious taste.
“I know it’s a strawberry, but what else?” I ask as I chew.
“Nutella.”
Ahh. That’s the nutty flavor I detected. Hazelnut spread on top of strawberries is a great start. Before I can swallow, Monica has her lips against mine. A warm liquid spurts between our lips as it bubbles against my tongue. Champagne. Fuck, that felt good. I try to grab her head and hold it against mine, but she manages to slide out of my grip with a giggle.
“Uh uh. I’m in control now, Gabriel.”
“I’m always in control, querida .”
“Not right now, tesoro . Just sit back and relax. Let me run things for a bit.”
“Not for long.”
Monica lets out a breathy laugh. “Is it really killing you to let someone else take the lead?”
“When you won’t let me lay you out and eat you until you come on my face, yes, it’s really killing me.”
I hear her quick intake of breath, which makes me hard every time I listen to it. I love that the hybrid sound of a sigh and a gasp is only for my ears.
“Just … just wait,” she murmurs as I hear her rummaging through her bag. “Open.”
I open my mouth and hear a squirt before I taste the quickly melting whipped cream. A growl rumbles through my chest as I envision covering Monica in whipped cream before methodically licking it all off her body. When she demands I open it again, a peanut butter cup is slipped into my mouth. Puta merda , I’m so turned on I think I could come in my pants if she so much as brushes against my cock.
“ Querida ,” I growl, “Are we done?”
“Just one more,” she whispers breathlessly as I hear her fiddling with something. Monica cups my cheek with her hand as she rests our foreheads together. “Open, tesoro.”
I know it’s the s’more before it hits my tongue. She’s sandwiched a peanut butter cup between the marshmallow and two graham crackers, and the oozing marshmallow begins to melt the chocolate against my lips. Her mouth meets mine as she sweetly but tentatively slides her tongue against my lips. I yank her into my lap as our kiss turns passionate, my hands kneading her ass with desperation. God. This woman. This fucking woman. Been inside her nonstop this week, but it’s never enough.
“Need you now, querida ,” I murmur as I pepper kisses down her neck. Her hands grab the tie around my eyes and whip it off. Once my eyes adjust to the light, I open them to see Monica’s lust-filled gaze.
“I’m yours, tesoro ,” she whispers.
“Mine,” I growl as I slide my hand under the edge of her shorts to find her wet and bare center. “No panties? Really?”
“Easier access,” she giggles breathlessly as she leans down to lightly bite my collarbone. I groan as the sensation zings straight to my cock, and I slide two fingers effortlessly into her pussy. Her responding moan is loud as the sound reverberates off the trees. The twilight hour, along with the fire pit, has left an ethereal glow around Monica as her molten gaze meets mine. “Please, Gabriel.”
“Please what? ”
“Make me come. I need to come.”
“How do you want to come, querida ? On my fingers? Against my tongue? My cock deep inside you, so deep that you can’t tell where I end and you begin?”
She moans gutturally. “Yes, yes, please. All of it. Gabriel, please.”
“Eyes open, querida . I need your eyes.” Monica’s eyes struggle to open as pleasure overtakes her. I rub her G-spot while grinding my palm against her clit. “Come, baby girl.”
Monica’s eyes roll back as her body listens to my command. She comes beautifully on my hand, clutching my fingers so tightly I can only tap her G-spot as she rides the orgasmic wave. Her head falls to my shoulder as she shudders.
Once her breathing has calmed, Monica raises her head to stare at me. Her expressive eyes show a myriad of emotions. Hunger, love, contentment. She leans in and presses a tender kiss against my lips.
“Are you coming in my mouth or my pussy, tesoro ?” she whispers. Holy fucking hell.
“Damn, querida . Fuck,” I swear. “Your pussy. Need your pussy.”
I pick her up and yank her shorts down before pulling my cock out. Her eyes flutter closed as I rub the engorged tip up and down her slit before resting against her opening.
“Eyes,” I demand as I slide my fingers through her hair and grab hold. “Watch me as I’m fucking you, anjinho .” I use my other hand to pull Monica down onto my length, and we groan in unison. Her toes barely touch the ground, and she tries to move her legs to give her traction, but I stop her. “I’ve got you, querida . Let me do all the work.”
I take Monica’s legs and, one by one, move them, so her calves are over my shoulders. She’s pretzeled against me as her walls squeeze me tightly. “Hold onto my neck, baby.”
Monica wraps her hands around my neck and latches her fingers into my hair as I grab her ass and lower her up and down onto my shaft. It’s painstakingly slow. Erotic. Carnal. Like nothing I’ve ever experienced.
“Gabriel,” Monica breathes. “Gabriel, this is too …”
“I know, querida . Just let me. I need you like this.”
Our connection is unbreakable as I watch the pleasure overtake her. Her beautiful eyes have turned molten as I slowly make love to her. Monica’s hands have slid toward my face as she cups my cheeks. One tear slides down her cheek.
“I love you so much,” I whisper fiercely. Our lips meet as my pace picks up. Her wanton cries become louder as we both hurtle toward our orgasms.
“I love you, Gabriel. Oh, fuck, oh yes. Right there!” Monica moans.
A sheen of sweat covers my entire body as I move her up and down. My arms are beginning to cramp, but I can’t stop. It feels too good. Too right. Too perfect.
As the moon casts a low light across my backyard, Monica and I come together as fireworks dance behind my eyelids. My dick continues to pulse inside her as her fluttering walls slow.
“Holy shit,” Monica giggles breathlessly. “That was … well. That was something.”
I chuckle as Monica slowly moves her legs from my shoulders with a groan.
“You’re more flexible than I thought you were,” I comment as I wipe a hand across my face.
“I’m pretty sure I’ll be paying for that tomorrow. But damn, that was worth it.”
“Adding it to the repertoire?”
“The repertoire? We have a sex repertoire?” she asks with an amused smile.
“Of course, querida . We’re adding that.”
“What else is in there?” she asks .
“Sex against the kitchen wall, shower sex, hot springs sex, and sex in the car.”
“We haven’t had sex in the car.”
“Yet.”
“I think you have a thing for sex in public, Gabriel.”
“As do you.”
“So what did you think of the s’more?” Monica asks as I slowly massage her thighs. Oh, shit. I completely forgot that’s how this all started.
“I don’t even remember what it tasted like,” I confess.
Monica giggles as she grabs the leftover s’more and shoves it into my mouth. I chew for a moment as I stare at my querida. Her hair is in disarray, a sheen of sweat covering her face, and a look of undying devotion in her eyes. I’ve never felt so blessed. So fortunate. So fucking lucky.
“It’s not ... bad,” I stammer. The marshmallow seems to have spread over every surface of my mouth.
“You can’t stand the texture, huh,” Monica teases.
“I’m sorry, querida. The taste isn’t bad, but I really want to brush my teeth,” I admit.
“You know you’ve had worse things in your mouth.”
“Probably. Let me just eat you to cover up the texture,” I leer.
She gives me a saucy grin and a wink, and I throw back my head with a bark of laughter.
Fucking perfect for me.