38. Maeve
MAEVE
My legs are still unsteady as I make my way down the hallway, each step sending little aftershocks rippling through my oversensitive body.
I can’t believe what just happened at that table—I can’t believe I just came with Liam sitting right across from me, oblivious, while Ford’s skilled fingers and that damn candy cane brought me to the most earth-shattering climax of my life.
I never came that hard when I was with his brother. Not even close.
The wetness between my thighs is a constant, slick reminder of what just occurred, my panties thoroughly soaked and clinging to my still-swollen flesh.
I’m grateful for the dim lighting in the hallway, because I’m sure my face is still flushed with arousal, my lips probably still swollen from biting them to stay quiet.
I need to get to a bathroom, need a moment to collect myself and clean up so I look like I haven’t just been thoroughly debauched at the family game table.
But just as I reach for the ornate bathroom door handle, a large, warm hand covers mine, fingers threading through mine with possessive intent.
I look up and find Gabriel standing right there, his eyes burning with so much heat that it takes my breath away. The amber flecks in his irises almost seem to glow in the low light.
“Going somewhere, petit oiseau doux ?” His voice is low, his French accent thicker than usual.
Before I can even attempt to answer, he cups my face with both hands and crashes his mouth against mine. The kiss is fierce and almost feral, all tongue and teeth and barely restrained control that makes my knees go weak all over again.
He pushes me backward into the bathroom, his hard body pressing against mine. I hear the door slam shut behind us, followed by the sharp, decisive click of the lock sliding home.
“Do you have any idea,” he growls against my lips, his breath hot and demanding, “how fucking hard it was to sit there and watch Ford touch you? To see you come apart right in front of me and not be able to do anything about it?”
His large hands slide down to grip my hips, fingers digging into the soft fabric of my skirt as he pulls me flush against him. I can feel exactly how hard he is through his expensive dress pants, the rigid length of him pressing insistently against my stomach.
“Gabriel,” I breathe, but he cuts me off with another searing kiss.
“I could smell you.” His voice is a rough rumble against my skin as his lips trail hotly down the column of my neck, making me shiver.
“Even from across that table, I could smell how wet you were getting for him. It was driving me fucking insane, sitting there pretending to care about some stupid game when all I wanted was to throw you over my shoulder and claim you myself.”
One of his hands slides down between my legs, cupping me boldly through my skirt. I gasp at the contact, my body still so sensitive from Ford’s thorough attention that even this light touch makes me tremble.
“Still soaked,” he observes, his palm pressing more firmly against me. “Look how wet you are for us. Even after Ford made you come, you’re still dripping.”
He slides his hand under my skirt, fingers finding the edge of my damp panties and slipping beneath the soaked material without hesitation. When his fingertips make direct contact with my bare, swollen flesh, we both groan—him with satisfaction, me with overwhelming sensation.
“Fuck, you’re drenched.” His voice is strained as he explores my pussy with his fingertips. “And so swollen. So sensitive. Ford got you nice and ready for me, didn’t he?”
His fingers tease through my folds with expert precision, collecting my arousal before he slowly pulls his hand away. I watch, transfixed, as he brings his glistening fingers to his mouth and licks them clean.
“Jesus,” he breathes, pupils dilating until his eyes are almost black. “You taste even better than I imagined in all those fantasies. So fucking sweet, like honey and sin.”
Heat floods through me again at his filthy words, my clit throbbing in time with my pulse. There’s something so primal about the way he’s looking at me—like he could devour me whole and still be hungry.
“I need more,” he says, voice dropping to a rough whisper. “I need to taste you properly. Need to make you fall apart on my tongue.”
Before I can respond, his strong hands are on my waist, lifting me effortlessly onto the cool marble counter. The cold surface makes me gasp, but Gabriel’s warm hands on my thighs distract me from the shock almost immediately.
“Spread your legs for me,” he commands, an authoritative edge to his tone.
I do as he says without hesitation, feeling reckless and dirty, and so incredibly turned on by his dominance.
He pushes my skirt up around my waist with deliberate slowness, and the way he’s looking at me—like I’m the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen—makes me feel powerful despite my vulnerable position.
His hands hook into the waistband of my panties, and he drags them down my legs with torturous slowness, his knuckles brushing against my sensitive skin. He tosses the soaked lace aside carelessly, like it was nothing more than an annoying barrier.
“Hold up your skirt,” he orders roughly.
I obey with trembling hands, bunching the soft fabric in my fists and pulling it higher, exposing myself to his heated gaze.
He steps back slightly, his eyes drinking in the sight of me spread open for him like I’m a feast prepared just for his pleasure. The weight of his stare makes me feel so exposed that I almost want to close my legs, but the obvious hunger in his expression keeps me right where I am.
“This is like that day I saw you in the bathroom,” he says, dropping to his knees between my spread thighs with fluid grace.
“But this time, I’m going to be the one making you fall apart.
I’m going to make you come all over my face until you can’t remember your own name. Until the only name you know is mine.”
His mouth is on me before I can fully process his words, his tongue diving deep and making me cry out with shocked pleasure.
The sensation doesn’t build slowly or gently.
I’m already so sensitive from Ford’s attention that Gabriel’s skilled touch feels almost too intense, making every nerve ending spark.
But he doesn’t give me time to adjust or catch my breath.
He eats me out like a man possessed, tongue exploring my pussy as if he’s trying to map every contour with his tongue.
His large hands grip my thighs, holding me open and keeping me exactly where he wants me as he devours me with shameless enthusiasm.
“God,” I gasp, head falling back against the mirror with a soft thunk.
“I’m no god, petit oiseau doux ,” he mutters, the vibration of his words making me shudder. “But if you’re going to pray to me, do it properly. Say my name.”
“Fuck,” I pant. “ Gabriel . Oh fuck.”
He rewards me by circling my clit with his tongue before sucking it between his lips with perfect pressure. The dual sensation makes my hips buck against his mouth involuntarily, seeking more of the overwhelming sensation.
The elegant bathroom fills with the wet sounds of his mouth working between my legs, my own ragged breathing echoing off the marble surfaces. I can feel my body trembling at his mercy, and through it all, Gabriel’s relentless mouth continues its exquisite assault.
When the first orgasm hits, it crashes over me like a tidal wave, stealing my breath and making my vision blur at the edges. I have to grip the counter with white knuckles to keep from sliding off as my body convulses, my thighs clamping around Gabriel’s head.
But he doesn’t stop. If anything, it just eggs him on.
He slides two long fingers inside me and curls them a bit, hitting that spot deep inside that makes stars explode behind my closed eyelids. The stretch feels incredible after being empty, and I arch into his touch with a whimper.
“I’m not done with you yet,” he growls, his lips moving against my oversensitive clit as he speaks. “Give me two more. I want to make up for missing out the other night when you were with Hayden and Ford.”
“Gabriel, I can’t—” I start to protest, shaking my head.
“You can,” he says, his free hand pressing against my lower belly to hold me steady as I writhe. “You’re going to come for me again, and again, until I’ve had my fill of you. Until I’m satisfied.”
He works me with his mouth and fingers in perfect coordination, building me up slowly and deliberately this time.
He alternates between soft licks and harder pressure, reading my body’s responses like he’s studied them for years.
The tension coils in my core, tighter and tighter with each expert stroke of his tongue.
When the second orgasm hits, it’s even more devastating than the first. My back arches off the mirror, and I have to press my face into my shoulder to muffle the cry that tears from my throat.
My entire body shakes uncontrollably, and I can feel myself gushing against Gabriel’s mouth, my inner walls clenching rhythmically around his fingers.
Still, he doesn’t stop.
“One more,” he insists, pulling back just enough to speak before diving back in. “Give me one more, petit oiseau doux. I know you have it in you. I can feel how close you are already.”
He attacks my clit with renewed vigor, tongue flicking against the swollen, oversensitive bud while his fingers continue their relentless assault on that perfect spot inside me. I’m so sensitive now that every touch feels magnified tenfold, pleasure bordering on the edge of too much.
“I can’t,” I rasp, shaking my head. “It’s too much, Gabriel. Holy fuck, I can’t take anymore.”
“Yes, you can,” he murmurs. “You can do anything you set your mind to, so do this for me. Come for me one more time. Let me have everything .”