Chapter 19 Gabriel #2
My spine tightens as I drill into her deeper.
I’m in so far, I can see the imprint of my cock in her womb.
I know she needs more friction, so I press my thumb to her clit, rubbing just enough to make her whimper.
Not enough to get her there—just enough to keep her chasing something I won’t let her have.
“You have no idea how many times I’ve fantasized about this,” I tell her, voice low, rough.
Her lashes flutter, and she looks at me, eyes dark, needy.
I pull out almost completely, letting her feel the loss, then thrust back into her with a firm, deep stroke, filling her with all of me, stretching her wide.
She moans, her heels digging into my lower back, anchoring herself.
I drop my head to her neck, planting a kiss there, then a nip of my teeth—just hard enough to make her jolt.
I want to leave a permanent mark right there. The one I placed on her chest is already gone. But I won’t. Not when she’s about to walk out of here and go on a date that she thinks she needs.
For now.
But I’m still going to leave her with something tonight. Because the mark I leave on her in a few seconds, won’t be the kind that people can see.
No.
Tonight, I’m leaving marks inside her.
I can feel my balls tighten, my spine tingle with the first signs of my approaching orgasm. And finally, I tell her what to expect next.
“I’m not letting you come,” I say against her throat.
Her body jerks. “What?” she gasps, brown eyes wide and desperate.
I smile. It’s a sinister smile. Not one that I would normally use. But Alessia seems to bring this side out of me. The one who feels possessive, jealous and wildly horny for only her.
“You want a fluffer for your date? Well, that guy’s not me.”
Her breathing stutters.
“You wanna go on your date, ditch the guy at the end of it, and come back here to me?”
I rock into her, rolling my hips, deep and slow, pulling a wrecked little moan from her hoarse throat.
“Then I’ll make it worth your night.”
“Gabriel,” she whines, breathless, her body taut beneath mine as I drive into her one last time, my balls tightening, spine locking up.
“That’s right. I’m the one touching you. I’m the one fucking you. I’m the man who made you come four times the other night.”
I grip her hips, pinning her in place, making sure she feels every inch of me as I pulse inside her. “You wanna take him back to your house? Fine. See if he can make your body light up like I can. See if he knows exactly how you need to be touched.”
I lean down, dragging my lips over the shell of her ear, my voice dropping lower.
“But he’s not coming back here. Ever. And he’s never going to be me.”
And then I let go. I bury myself inside her tight pussy and come. Filling her, groaning as her tight, hot walls grip me like they never want to let go.
She doesn’t come, though I know I could get her to with just a few more swipes of my thumb against her swollen, soaked clit, but I won’t let her.
Not yet. Her body welcomes me anyway, squeezing every last drop from me, holding onto it, keeping me inside her even when I finally slow my thrusts into soft, gentle pulses.
I give a few more thrusts, just to feel the slickness of her with my come dripping out, to let myself linger in the heat of her before I finally pull out.
Her eyes meet mine, and there’s nothing but anger, frustration, and something darker, something needier, behind her gaze. She looks pissed but she looks turned on to. She likes it and hates it at the same time.
I smile down at her, brush some of her damp, soft brown hair from her cheek, then lower my face and kiss her pretty, drenched pussy lips.
“Gabriel,” her voice is strained.
I press another kiss against her swollen, dripping cunt, lapping up the evidence of what I just did to her, what I just left in her.
Then I stuff the rest of my come back inside of her with two fingers, slide her red thong back in place, tucking it tight, knowing damn well it won’t do shit to hold me in and she’s going to make a mess of it as soon as she stands.
Her pussy will be weeping for me all night. Every time she laughs at one of his lame jokes. Every time she shifts in her seat. She’s going to feel me between her thighs and the mark I left behind.
Her breathing is rougher now. “I can’t believe you’re leaving me like this,” she whispers.
I straighten, leveling her with a look that shows how serious I am now.
“I’m not a harsh guy. I like pleasing women. I don’t like leaving them unsatisfied.” I brush my knuckles along her inner thigh, feeling her shiver. “But I’m not gonna make you come just so you can walk out of here, relaxed, ready to date some other guy who isn’t me.”
Her lips part, her breath is shaky, but she doesn’t say a word.
“You want to spend the night with a man who’ll actually take care of you?” I take her chin between my fingers and tilt her gaze to connect with mine. “Then you know where to find him. I’ll be waiting for you here.”
Then I help her stand, and without a word, I grab her dress from where it landed.
It’s cold, but at least it’s dry. I slip it over her arms, spin her gently, and zip it up all the way like she asked me to, fastening the clasp at her neck where I brush my fingertips gently.
Then I drop my lips to the exposed skin and kiss her.
It’s softer than my words were and I hope it shows her that I’m not a bad guy. I just want her.
“I promise,” I murmur against the racing pulse of her neck, “it’ll be worth it for you if you come home tonight.”
She turns, eyes sharp now. That softness she had earlier in her gaze is long gone. She looks angry and I’m realizing this might not go the way that I’d hoped.
“Come back to a guy who leaves me hanging? Come back to a guy who edges me for fifteen minutes then comes without letting me finish? Gabriel, I feel like I have blue balls. My clit it’s…” she lets out a soft gasp. Her hands clench at her sides, her eyes narrow and a vein pulses on her forehead.
“Did some of my come just slip out of you?” I ask, voice thick with amusement.
She swallows, her jaw tight. “No,” she lies. Then, quieter: “Yes.”
She tilts her chin up defiantly. “I’m going to go change my underwear.”
I step toward her, the warning clear in my eyes.
“No, you won’t do that.”
She holds my gaze, unblinking, challenging. Then suddenly huffs, throwing her hands up in the air.
“Fuck my life,” she whispers softly. Her purse is waiting by the door with her coat. She grabs it, slinging it over one shoulder while she slips those black shoes with the red bottoms back on covering her pretty toes.
“See you tonight!” I call after her, hoping that I’m right and didn’t just fuck everything up. Because I’m a confident guy. But I also know Alessia has her limits. And I might’ve just pressed on hers too far.
But hearing she’s got another date? Her asking me to dress her for another man’s gaze? For another man to enjoy her beauty while she lives under my roof and her body clearly wants me?
I have my limits too.
I stalk into the kitchen, my cock finally softening, but still slick with her.
She’s everywhere. On my skin. In my head.
In the air. When I slide my hand beneath the waist band of my jeans, and fist myself, I can still smell her.
Still taste her on my mouth. Like a man possessed, I lift my fingers and without thinking, drag my tongue across them for the proof that she’s real.
I need more.
I pour myself a drink I don’t even want and carry it to the couch in front of the fire.
My eyes lock on the spot on the carpet where she was on her back for me.
Where her hips pressed into the fibers and her legs spread wide.
Where I filled her with my cum like I know she wanted then left her needy and wanting more.
I have no restraint. I get up, drawn to that place, crouch, run my palm slowly over the indentation then inhale.
I groan, my jaw tightens. My body answers with a fresh rush of blood to my dick. I go back to the couch, shove my jeans down just enough to free myself, and wrap my hand around my shaft. Slow. Controlled. Measured strokes and I’m hard.
I won’t let myself come like this even if I want to. Because the next time I come, it’s inside her. After she’s gasping my name and getting her release too.
But I sit there anyway, stroking myself in the firelight, replaying the way she sounded. The way she tasted. The way she looked at me like she didn’t know whether to run or beg for more.
And then I wait.
I’ll wait here all night if that’s what she wants. Just like I used to do for my sisters when I was worried about their safety after our parents died. Because that’s what I do. That’s what I’ve always done for the people that I care about.
I wait until they’re ready.