Chapter 24
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
We never even made it past the hallway.
“Your turn,” I said, reaching for the hem of his Jimi Hendrix T-shirt and ripping it off his body. We came together, hands roaming, and pulled apart long enough for him to take off my jeans.
He laughed into my mouth when we kissed. “I’ve been thinking about this forever. Not this . You . In my mind, we’ve already done this a thousand times.”
“Me too. I thought about it even when I wasn’t supposed to,” I admitted, running my hands over his taut abs and the muscles in his back, trying to touch every inch of his warm skin.
I kissed his throat. Sank my teeth into his shoulder. Licked the salt off his chest while my fingers fumbled with the buttons of his jeans. Frantic now and too impatient to wait, I reached into his boxers and wrapped my hand around him, gripping him tight.
“Jesus,” he rasped, his chest rapidly rising and falling against mine, his breath hot on my neck, his hand gripping my waist, thumb brushing over my hip bone as I circled the head and brushed my thumb over the slit.
He was hard. Hot. Swollen.
My mouth watered. I wanted to taste him.
His hand slid between my thighs, his fingers stroking, light as a feather, and my knees buckled.
“I need to be inside you,” he said, his voice strained as I squeezed the base and stroked, the skin so silky, his dick so impossibly hard in my hand.
“God, yes,” I said, breathlessly.
My center was soaked, aching.
I tried to shove his jeans and boxers down at the same time he was toeing off his boots, and in the next instant we crashed to the floor, laughing, with his jeans and boxers around his knees.
“I’m not usually this smooth,” he said, which made me laugh even harder.
As I lay on the oriental runner in the hallway laughing, with only the light from the living room I’d left on illuminating the shadows, I thought about how ridiculous and messy and awkward sex could be.
And how in the past, I would have felt self-conscious if David had looked at my body with so much open adoration as Gabriel was doing right now.
But with him, I felt like I was basking in his glow.
“Shit,” he said after he’d kicked off his jeans and sat up. I sat up too and covered my breasts, thinking he’d suddenly changed his mind. “I don’t have a condom.”
I lowered my arms, the relief sharp and sudden. “That’s okay. I mean, we don’t need one. I’m on birth control,” I said even as my mind scrambled, trying to remember if I had any condoms in my bedroom. “And I’m clean. Unless…” I left the words hanging in the air.
“No, I’m clean, too.” He kissed my shoulder.
“I’ve never had sex without a condom,” he assured me and then he was kneeling over me, pulling my panties down my legs as I fell back on my elbows and his hands climbed up my legs.
Heat radiated from his touch and I thought I might die if I couldn’t have him right this minute but he lifted his head, his mouth hovering above the crease in my thigh and his brows knitted. “But are you sure ?”
My thighs cradled his hips, giving him permission. “Yes, I’m sure . Absolutely, positively?—”
That was all he needed. His thumbs spread me wide and he dipped his head. I inhaled sharply as he drove his tongue into me. My head fell back on a groan, and I forgot everything, including my own name.
I didn’t care that the floor was hard or that the rug was rough beneath my bare skin. This was pure heaven. His mouth, his tongue, his fingers, a Hallelujah choir.
My muscles drew taut and my legs quaked, my fingers digging into his scalp. I came so hard I might have blacked out for a few seconds. When I opened my eyes, he was looking down at me with a big smile on his face.
“You’re loud,” he said, his smile growing wider as if that thrilled him. He licked his lips then pressed them together. “I love the taste of you. Kiss me, lover.”
I kissed him, hard. He pushed into me and I choked on the fullness.
He sighed, one hand in my hair, the other gripping my ass. “I could die happy right here and now.”
I felt the same. My hips rose and he stroked fuller, harder, deeper.
We found our rhythm and everything else melted away. It was just us, fully in the moment.
Gabriel’s back muscles flexing under my hands.
His hot breath on my neck, his voice whispering in my ear, “You’re perfect. You’re everything I dreamed you’d be.”
My legs wrapped around his waist, heels digging into his back, body writhing beneath him.
His calloused hands brushing up my sides, caressing my skin, sliding into my hair.
My hand reaching up to touch his face, my palm on his cheekbone, my fingers brushing dark locks of hair off his sweaty forehead.
His sharp hip bones grinding against me as I rose up and up and up, the only sound in my ears skin slapping against skin and our ragged breaths, and then he flipped us over and sat up, pulling me into his lap.
I sank down on him as he reached down to where we were joined, his fingers stroking as he filled me up, and I came again, raking his back, my short nails leaving their mark and he kissed my lips.
My back hit the ground and he draped one leg over his shoulder and drove into me so hard and so fast, my breath caught in my throat.
When Gabriel came, spilling inside me, he threw his head back like he was in pain and then he collapsed on top of me and nuzzled his face in my hair, and I thought, So this is how it’s supposed to feel.
Turns out sex wasn’t overrated. I’d just never been with anyone who knew how to play my body the way Gabriel did. Like he already knew without being told that this is what it took to turn me on.
“La petite mort,” I said, staring at the ceiling and wondering why we had sex in the hallway when I had a perfectly good bed.
“Look at you and your fancy French.” Gabriel rolled onto his side and propped his head up, looking down at me. “I never slept with her,” he said, tracing my kiss-bruised lips with his fingertip. “How could I? I was waiting for you.”
It took a few seconds for my brain to catch up but when it did, I smothered him in kisses and led him to my bedroom for round two.
This time, he took me from behind and I moaned like a porn star. The louder I was, the more turned on he got and the longer he drew it out.
Sex with Gabriel lasted a lot longer than his ode to an orgasm song.