Chapter 28 Alessia
Gabriel eases into me like a man who has time.
Like he’s savoring every reaction, every breathless sound I make, every twitch of my body under his touch.
That's the thing about him that I keep running into, the thing I can't seem to get used to no matter how many times it happens.
He's never in a rush. Never performing. Every time he touches me it feels like he made a deliberate choice to be exactly here, doing exactly this, and everything else can wait.
And I know—I know—that it’s the most romantic weekend of the year, Valentine’s Day and all. Trust me, I get how this could be perceived.
But it’s not like he bought me flowers, scattered rose petals across the floor leading up to a crisp, white comforter, then left a box of chocolates on the bedside table.
No.
I followed him home from my grandma’s house in my own car, and the second we walked through the door, he carried me upstairs, stripped me down like it was an emergency, and laid me out on the bed before dragging his tongue in a sloppy, claiming line from my neck, across both of my breasts, down to my belly button, then straight over my pussy before diving in like a man who is feral me.
Do I like the way Gabriel makes me feel like he needs to explore every inch of my body before he’s finally inside me?
Yes.
Do I like the way his hands never stay in just one place when he’s kissing me?
Absolutely.
His touch is everywhere at once. One second his hands are on my breasts while his tongue flicks against my clit, and the next they’re sliding lower, gripping my hips like he’s trying to pull me even closer to his mouth.
Like the distance between us, even with his tongue buried inside me, still isn’t close enough.
There was a time where I might have thought letting a man take the lead in the bedroom wasn’t very feminist of me. But I think that’s because the men I knew weren’t like Gabriel. They didn’t know what they were doing so I always felt like I had to be in control.
I want to roll in his scent. To smell like him. To be filled with him again. I don’t know what these feelings are, but I’ve never felt that way toward anyone else. I’ve never felt this… out of control, like I’m drunk on lust, even with my ex-husband. It’s a terrifying thought.
I roll my head to the side to look at his room and try to distract myself from coming too soon.
The bedroom is simple—navy blue comforter, a dresser in the corner with a TV on top, some matching curtains with pinstripes.
There are no photos, no clutter, no sentimental little details that tell me anything more about him except what I already know: Good guy.
Okay, great guy, who loves his family. Sacrificed a lot of his younger years for them and works hard.
It’s clean. Straightforward. Like all his creativity gets poured into his work.
But his bedroom is strictly for business.
“Will you let me use a toy on you?” he asks, taking a break from whatever spellbinding thing he’s doing with his tongue that has my nipples drawn tight and my breath coming in gasps as I try to hold off on finishing too soon.
I’m on a deadline. I have a case I’m supposed to be working in Hartford. But right now, the most important assignment feelings like the orgasm I know Gabriel is sure to give me if I’m patient.
My head lolls back against the pillow. I nod, swallowing. “Yeah.”
“Did you bring them with you?”
“Um.”
He chuckles, and then his tongue forms a wicked point, flicking against my clit with a speed that makes me see stars but not before he sucks down hard.
“It’s a yes or no question, Aly,” he says when he lifts his head again.
“Yes,” I breathe. “Yes. I brought them with me.”
“Good.”
And then, as if rewarding me, he slides two fingers deep inside me, crooking them just right, making my back arch off the bed with pleasure. “Gabriel!” I moan.
“Be right back.”
I whimper at the loss as he slips out of his bedroom and down the hall to where I’ve been staying, leaving me spread out on his bed, throbbing and so turned on I can’t think straight.
I take a breath, trying to gather my thoughts, try to wrap my head around what the hell is happening not just now in the moment, but between us.
When he returns a moment later, he’s naked—heavy, hard cock swaying between his legs. It’s a feast for my gaze. And damn, do I feast.
He’s got an unfair body—broad, built, tanned-skinned—and the way he moves? The way he knows exactly how to use every inch of himself? It’s devastating. And that patch of dark hair at the base of his cock, the one I love rubbing my clit on, does things to me that I didn’t know where possible.
Was I jealous hearing that Amber had reached out to him to do work her new house?
Absolutely. I’m sure it was written all over my face.
But I’d never admit that to him because why do I have the right to be jealous?
Gabriel isn’t my boyfriend. He’s… nothing.
He’s my neighbor. My roommate’s cousin and a guy that I am thoroughly enjoying hooking up with.
He smiles when I finally lift my gaze away from his dick, holding up one of my favorite purple toys. “Clit stimulator?”
“Uh, yeah.” My voice is embarrassingly weak because I wasn’t expecting him to grab that one. My best friend from college and old roommate bought it for me as a divorce gift—a little you need this in your life present that I haven’t actually gotten around to using yet.
‘Gets you off in three seconds flat,’ she’d said. ‘Trust me. You need this.’
That sounds very appealing right now because he’s been edging me for minutes with no relief in sight.
Gabriel turns it on, the low hum making my stomach tighten in anticipation. He climbs back onto the bed and kneels between my legs, placing a soft, teasing kiss right on top of my wet clit first.
“Tell me if it’s too much at any time.”
Then he presses the toy right across the most sensitive part of me and I swear I levitate.
“Oh my God!” I screech, jerking against the mattress as my fingers dig into the sheets and my mouth falls open in surprise.
Gabriel immediately pulls back. “Did it hurt?”
“No, it’s just—” I blink up at him, breathless. “Intense.”
“Too much?”
I shake my head, chest rising and falling. “Just give me a second to adjust. Maybe turn it down a notch.” Because yeah it was intense, but it felt good. So, so good.
He nods, waiting for my signal. And when I finally reach out—gripping his wrist, pulling his back down to my throbbing core—he obliges.
This time, I know it’s coming, but it still knocks the air from my lungs. My thighs shake as the sensation courses through me, overwhelming and electric, and when his fingers slip inside me, matching the tempo of the suction on my clit—a sound I don’t even recognize as myself slips from my lips.
Where has this been my whole life? Where was this after my divorce? I’ve been getting myself off with my vibrators and fingers, but I was clearly missing out.
“You’re so pretty it hurts,” he murmurs, eyes locked on me like I’m something to be worshipped. “Look at the way you’re taking this. You’re doing so well, sweetheart.”
I can’t think straight. The pleasure is a tight coil that starts in my clit and it’s winding, winding, winding—
“Gabriel,” I gasp, gripping his wrist. “I’m gonna come—fast.”
And then, just as I crest that peak—just as I tip over the edge—He takes the toy away.
My body shouts at the loss, clenching around nothing as I choke out a desperate, frustrated sound. “Why?!” I moan.
He hovers over me now, his face inches from mine, breath warm against my lips.
“Do you want me to put on a condom?”
My pulse is hammering. My body is a live wire, buzzing, trembling, aching for him. My answer is easy. It’s the same one that I’ve been giving him since the first night we had sex. At some point, maybe I’ll stop. Maybe I’ll do the safe thing. The careful thing.
That point is not tonight.
I shake my head. “No.”
Because I know him. And after everything we’ve both been through, after everything that’s led us here, I don’t think either of us has even had time to consider hooking up with anyone else. And right now, I need to feel him. Bare. I can’t imagine it ever being any other way.
Gabriel sinks into me so fast it knocks the breath from my lungs, like he couldn’t wait a second longer—like the need to be inside me is just as unbearable for him as it is for me. We both groan, eyes dropping to where we’re connected, watching the way I take him in.
“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he rasps, his head bowed forward as he holds himself up from crushing me.
He reaches for the toy that’s beside us, his hips rocking back before surging forward again. His hand finds my ankle, lifting one over his shoulder, shifting me, adjusting, sinking in deeper this time—so deep I feel him pressing against my cervix.
“Shit.”
“Shit’s right,” he groans, then lowers that little sucking toy back onto my clit.
And whoa.
My clit is being sucked, tugged, relentlessly worked over while his cock stretches me, fills me, drives me higher and higher until the pleasure is too much. The feeling too full.
“Gabriel,” I gasp.
He jerks his hips forward. Deeper. Thump.
“I’m right there with you, sweetheart.”
“Gabriel, it’s too good. I’m going…” I gasp at the way he’s touching all my walls. “I’m going to come.”
He lets out a noise that sounds a lot like manly moan and whimper combined and something about that pushes me over the edge.
I shatter. I scream his name. I hope like hell his little sister is not home right now.
My body locks up, pussy fluttering around him, squeezing so hard I swear I can hear my body come.
My mind whites out, chest convulsing as I struggle to catch my breath, lost to the relentless waves of pleasure.