CHAPTER FOURTEEN WITHOUT CHARM #3
Gabriel kissed her again. The press below creaked. Footsteps crossed the workshop. Eleanor broke the kiss and looked toward the door. Then she walked to it. Gabriel watched her turn the key. The lock clicked. His body tightened instantly.
“Is this how respectable publishing businesses operate?” he asked.
Eleanor faced him.
“Respectability is not part of the business plan.”
She crossed to the long printing table. Gabriel followed.
Desire moved through him, bright and celebratory rather than desperate.
Nothing needed to be proven. Acceptance had not purchased her body.
She owed him nothing because she had agreed to marriage.
He wanted her because joy demanded somewhere physical to go.
Eleanor seemed to understand. She placed both hands upon his coat and pushed it from his shoulders. Gabriel allowed it to fall.
“You locked the door,” he said.
“Yes.”
“Quinn may return.”
“He is testing the press downstairs.”
“The floorboards appear thin.”
“Then you must exercise restraint.”
Gabriel laughed.
“That is cruel.”
“You proposed fidelity, not silence.”
She opened his waistcoat. One button at a time. Gabriel reached for her gown. Eleanor caught his wrist.
“Wait.”
He stopped. Her eyes moved over him. The pleasure of being observed returned, but it no longer carried unease.
Eleanor knew his body. She had kissed every scar and held him after performance disappeared.
Her gaze did not evaluate whether he met society’s ideal of masculine beauty.
It chose him. She removed his waistcoat and cravat.
Then his shirt. Gabriel stood bare-chested before her in the unfinished room.
Eleanor traced the scar beneath his ribs.
“Still mine?” he asked.
Her gaze lifted sharply. Gabriel heard the old language of possession in the question. He corrected it.
“Still chosen?”
Eleanor’s expression softened.
“Yes.”
She kissed the scar. His abdomen tightened.
Her mouth travelled upward across his chest, pausing over his heart.
Gabriel closed his eyes as she kissed there too.
No one had taught him how to receive that kind of tenderness.
He was learning. Eleanor unfastened his trousers.
Gabriel opened the back of her gown while she pushed his clothes from his hips.
Their movements became less orderly as desire grew, but they did not rush.
He lowered the gown from her shoulders and kissed each section of skin it exposed. Her corset followed.
Then her chemise. Eleanor stood before him wearing only drawers and stockings, her breasts lifted by breath rather than restrictive fabric. Gabriel cupped them. She leaned into his hands. He brushed both thumbs over her nipples. They hardened immediately.
“Pressure?” he asked.
“More.”
Gabriel obeyed. Eleanor’s head tipped back. He lowered his mouth to one breast, taking the nipple between his lips and drawing slowly until her fingers tightened upon his shoulders.
“Harder,” she whispered.
The confidence in her request affected him as powerfully as the taste of her skin. Gabriel sucked more firmly. Eleanor moaned. The sound travelled through the floorboards. He lifted his head.
“Restraint?”
“I have reconsidered.”
“An excellent business decision.”
He kissed the other breast. Eleanor’s hands moved into his hair, controlling the contact without apology.
She told him when to slow, when to use his tongue and when the pull of his mouth became exactly what she wanted.
Gabriel’s erection pressed hard against her hip.
She reached between them. Her fingers closed around him. He groaned.
“No performance,” she murmured.
“I have none left.”
“Tell me.”
“I need you.”
The admission came easily now. Not because need had become safe.
Because Eleanor had promised not to use it as a chain.
She stroked him slowly. Gabriel placed both hands upon the printing table behind her.
The wood bore scratches, ink stains and the faint impress of type blocks.
Eleanor sat upon the edge, her legs opening enough to bring him between them.
Gabriel lowered her remaining undergarment.
She lifted her hips. The fabric slid down her thighs and joined their clothes upon the floor.
Her stockings remained. The sight of Eleanor naked except for dark silk covering her legs nearly ended his control. She noticed.
“You like them.”
“Yes.”
“Specific.”
Gabriel ran one hand from her ankle to the bare skin above the stocking.
“I like that they stop here.”
His thumb followed the edge.
“And that everything beyond belongs only to the person you invite.”
Eleanor’s breathing altered. She opened her thighs wider.
“Then come closer.”
Gabriel knelt. The position placed her at the edge of the table, open above him. He kissed one stocking-covered knee, then the bare inner thigh. Eleanor’s hand settled in his hair. Gabriel looked up.
“Gentle first?”
“Yes.”
He touched his mouth to her. She was already wet. The first slow stroke of his tongue drew a breathless sound from her. Gabriel tasted her desire, moving through the soft folds before circling the sensitive peak above. Eleanor’s hips shifted.
“Slower.”
He slowed.
“More pressure.”
He pressed his tongue more firmly.
“Yes.”
Gabriel found the rhythm she wanted and held it. He no longer treated her responses as proof of expertise. Her pleasure was not an accomplishment. It was a language they built together, altered each time by mood, place and choice. He slid one finger inside her. Eleanor tightened.
“Deeper.”
Gabriel obeyed. He added another when her body softened enough to welcome it.
Her hand controlled the angle of his head.
She moved against his mouth openly, using him to find pleasure rather than waiting for him to bestow it.
The sight and sensation drove Gabriel close to madness. He curled his fingers. Eleanor gasped.
“There.”
He repeated it. Her thighs tightened around his shoulders. Gabriel kept his eyes upon her face. She looked down at him, flushed and unguarded, her breasts rising with each breath.
“Do not stop.”
“I will not.”
Her climax gathered visibly. Her stomach tightened.
Her heels pressed against the table legs, and the hand in his hair trembled.
Gabriel increased the pressure only when she urged him.
Eleanor came with his name upon her mouth.
Her body tightened around his fingers while pleasure moved through her in deep waves.
Gabriel remained between her thighs until the final tremor softened.
Then he kissed the damp skin near her hip. Eleanor drew him upward.
She kissed him. The taste of herself did not make her hesitate. Her tongue entered his mouth with hungry confidence, while one hand found his erection again. Gabriel shuddered.
“Your turn,” she said.
He shook his head.
“Not yet.”
“You are painfully hard.”
“I am aware.”
“Do you want my mouth?”
Every part of him reacted.
“Yes.”
The direct answer seemed to please her. Eleanor slid from the table and knelt upon the rolled rug near the fire.
It had not yet been spread fully, leaving one end curled beneath her knees.
Gabriel stood before her. She looked up.
The sight of her there—hair loose, lips swollen, body still flushed from release—made need rise almost beyond endurance.
Eleanor wrapped one hand around him. Her tongue touched the tip. Gabriel gripped the edge of the table.
She licked slowly, spreading the moisture gathered there, then closed her mouth around him.
His head fell back. Eleanor took him deeper than she had the first time, using her hand where her lips could not reach.
She understood the pressure he liked now.
The slow pull. The movement of her tongue along the underside.
The pause at the tip that nearly destroyed him.
Gabriel’s hips shifted. He stopped himself. Eleanor lifted her gaze.
“You may move.”
“I do not want to hurt you.”
“You will not. Slowly.”
He obeyed. The permission changed everything. Gabriel moved gently into her mouth while Eleanor controlled depth with her hand. Each stroke increased the pressure gathering low in his body. He wanted to surrender and also wanted to join her.
“Eleanor.”
She continued.
“Eleanor, stop.”
She withdrew immediately. Concern entered her face.
“Pain?”
“No.”
“Too much?”
“I am close.”
“Do you want to finish?”
“Not like this.”
Her brows lifted.
“No?”
“I want you around me.”
Desire darkened her eyes. She rose. Gabriel kissed her before she fully straightened. His hands moved over her waist and hips, lifting her back onto the printing table. Eleanor reached into the pocket of his discarded coat and removed the sheath he had placed there earlier.
“You planned?”
“I hoped.”
“Suspiciously confident.”
“Terrified men prepare.”
She opened the packet and rolled the protection over him herself. Gabriel’s breathing roughened beneath her hands. Then Eleanor drew him between her thighs. She guided the tip to her entrance. Gabriel stopped.
“Still?”
“Yes.”
“Here?”
She looked at the table.
“Here.”
He pressed inside slowly. Her body opened around him, wet and warm from his mouth. Eleanor exhaled. Gabriel entered another inch. Then another. When he was fully seated, she wrapped both legs around his hips. The edge of the table pressed against his thighs. He held still.
“Comfortable?” he asked.
“No.”
Gabriel began to withdraw. Eleanor tightened her legs.
“I did not say stop.”
“This table was designed for paper.”
“It is a printing table. It should survive pressure.”
He laughed against her mouth. The movement shifted him inside her. Eleanor gasped. Gabriel stilled.
“Good?”
“Yes.”
“Again?”
“Yes.”