Chapter 9
Sabrina
Kissing. I was kissing. Gabe Harding.
Gross.
Actually…
Maybe not gross.
Nice.
Nah, not nice.
Hot.
Yes. Much better. I’d had plenty of “nice” kisses in my life. But this? This wasn’t nice at all.
It was angry and fiery and desperate.
Our tongues clashed, teeth nipping. Hands roving and tugging hair.
My body arched against his, trembling with need.
I wanted to insult him. I wanted to push him away. But he was too insistent. Too needy.
And I, certified man-hater who never let anyone tell me what to do, followed his lead.
He grasped my hips, the heat of his hands soaking through the fabric of my skirt, searing me. They were huge and strong. How had I never noticed before? Just a small touch had me feeling like I was being held captive.
“Your fucking mouth.” He groaned against me, one hand sliding to my ass, the other gripping my chin, holding me in place. “Deadly in so many ways.” He dipped then, kissing across my jawline.
I whimpered. No pithy comebacks, no sassy comments. I’d been reduced to a quivering puddle.
“Shut up and kiss me.” I yanked on his shirt, pulling him closer.
Anger coursed through me. Ambition and frustration fueling the kiss.
He was hard against my thigh, tempting me to grab at the weapon in his pants. Instead, I splayed my hands over his chest. A chest that was shockingly wide and strong beneath his Brooks Brothers dress shirt.
The shirt my fingers, of their own accord, were now unbuttoning.
With hands I was no longer sure were attached to my body.
Hands that sought his warm skin and hard chest.
“Fuck, Sabrina,” he breathed against my neck. “You are a problem.”
“I will be a problem if you don’t get this shirt off.”
He responded by hiking up my pencil skirt. “Are you fucking kidding me?” he asked, pulling back and surveying my stockings and garters.
Black lace, just like my tiny panties. La Perla had a sale, and I’d splurged.
“What?” I said, torn between pride and defensiveness.
“You walk around like this?” He dropped to his knees in front of me and traced the tops of my stockings.
“I’ve got the matching bra too.” I peeled my cashmere sweater over my head.
He stared up at me, eyes wide, like he’d never seen anything as incredible as my lace-clad breasts.
For a guy I didn’t like, Gabriel Harding was an excellent ego boost.
For a moment we were quiet, the room filled with only the sound of our heavy breathing.
“I can smell you,” he growled, peppering kisses across my thighs. “I’ve barely touched you and you’re soaked, aren’t you?”
“Yes, so you should probably fuck me before I change my mind.” I threw out an arm, bracing myself against the wall. My legs were in danger of giving out.
We were in the middle of some half-dressed standoff, and suddenly my brain wasn’t capable of strategy. In fact, I was pretty sure I’d let him do whatever he wanted to me.
Shit. I blew out a breath. I’d have to unpack that later.
He stood and lifted me, kissing me again.
On instinct, I wrapped my legs wrapped around his waist. And when his hard cock hit me in just the right spot, I let out a little gasp.
My eyes were closed, so when I was suddenly airborne, I gasped again, this time much louder.
“I need to be inside you,” he said as I bounced on the mattress, “before I realize what a bad idea this is.”
I propped myself up on my elbows, taking in the way his muscles clenched as he tore off his undershirt.
Face dark, he slid his underwear down, revealing what I’d suspected.
Mister Mayor was packing.
“You look disappointed.” He gripped his shaft and tugged, the move making my core clench.
“Just surprised.” I sat up and unhooked my bra. “Since you have such a shitty personality, I assumed you had a micro penis.”
He dragged his hand up and down his length again, smirking. “You want this, don’t you?”
I bit my bottom lip hard, trying to snap myself out of the haze. But I was unsuccessful. “Unfortunately, I do. Too bad you’re attached to it.”
“We’re all making sacrifices tonight, sweetheart.” He climbed over me and palmed my breast, groaning.
I gripped his hair and tugged, relishing the mix of pain and pleasure that crossed his face.
“Oh, shit.” The pleasure vanished. Only pain remained. Or maybe it was disappointment. “I don’t have a condom.”
Deflating, I looked out at the snowy hellscape. I had nothing, and we clearly weren’t going anywhere to find protection.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“I have an IUD.” The words were out before I could think better of them. “And I get regular testing.”
I didn’t fuck randos without protection. I had standards, for fuck’s sake, but with his lips and hands on my skin, I couldn’t resist the urge. And it had been so long. So long since I’d been properly fucked.
“Same.” He lowered his head and took one nipple into his mouth. “Tested a few months ago. No one since.” His heart pounded as he lavished my breasts with attention. “If you hand me my phone, I can log into my healthcare portal and show you.”
I laughed, slightly charmed by how eager he was. “I believe you. No need to commit a HIPAA violation.”
“I’ve never gone without,” he said to my breasts.
“Me neither. But it’s just one time. Special circumstance. Blizzard and all.”
He looked up, his pupils blown out and his chest rapidly rising and falling. “Are you sure? We can stop right now.”
The thick layer of ice around my heart melted a little. Most men I’d been with would have pressured me in a situation like this. His pants were off, yet he was more than willing to stop.
The last bit of my reluctance dissolved as I slid my hand between us and stroked him.
“Yes,” I hissed, all my good judgment flying out the snow-covered window.
With a wicked grin, the bastard clutched my thong. And before I knew what was happening, he ripped it right off.
Anger mounted inside me, riding on the back of my desire. “What the fuck?”
He tossed it over his shoulder. “It was in the way.” Pushing my stocking-clad knees apart, he stared unabashedly. “Garters stay on.”
Without warning, he flipped me over so I was on my stomach.
As he roughly pulled me onto my knees, I squealed, and when he pressed his hand to my back, pushing me down until my chest was flush with the bed, all the air fled my lungs.
He was thoroughly manhandling me.
“I’m impressed, Harding,” I said when I could breathe again. Cheek pressed to the mattress, I eyed him over my shoulder.
He was on his knees too, hands on my hips, his attention roving over every inch of me.
“Didn’t know you had it in you,” I snarked.
I was rewarded with a sharp slap to my ass cheek.
My body jolted and the sting radiated through me. “Ow.”
“That’s what you get for mouthing off.” He ran his hands over my hips and gripped them hard.
I spread my arms out, clutching the bedding. “How badly do I have to insult you to get you to fuck me?”
With a grunt, he hauled my hips toward him and slammed into me in one violent move.
A wave of heat flooded me and my eyes rolled back in my head.
“Fuck,” he growled, his fingers digging into my flesh so hard they’d leave bruises. “You feel incredible.”
I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. I was too busy focusing on breathing through the stretch of him.
He spanked me again, and my muscles clenched around him.
“You are so wet for me.” He dragged a hand down my spine. “You spend the whole day giving me dirty looks and insulting my intelligence, and now you’re moaning as you take my cock.”
“I have low standards,” I gritted out. “Don’t remind me.”
His first few strokes were slow, but they soon gave way to harder and faster rolls of his hips. I gripped the bedspread, bunching it in my hands.
Holy shit. This was good. Too good.
As an orgasm built deep in my core, I pushed my hips back, hungry for friction, ignoring the voice in my head that said this was a terrible idea.
A wave of euphoria washed over me, making my toes curl and my body tremble. “Fuck.” Crying out, I pushed my head into the bed, relishing the pure bliss coursing through my body as my internal muscles spasmed around him.
Chest on the bed, face buried in the bedding, I went limp. I was done. Wrung out. Part of me wanted to thank him and send him on his way.
But before I could decide just how callous I wanted to be, he flipped me onto my back and pushed my knees up to my chest, then slid inside me again.
I was still recovering, my vision blurry, as he held my thighs, pinning me down and thrusting fiercely.
“Fuck, that was amazing.” He ducked, gently biting one of my nipples. As he pulled back, he shook his head, wearing a cocky grin that made me even wetter. “I can’t believe it. Sabrina Monroe, coming on my cock. Life is so fucking strange.”
“Not as strange as you being blessed with a big dick,” I snapped back. “Seems unfair since your personality is so shitty.”
He pushed my knees wider apart and bottomed out with a groan, then dove in to nip at one nipple, then the other. “My big personality is going to make you come again.”
I arched my back, a flash of need shooting from my breast to my core. “Sorry. I’m a one and done girl. But you did good.”
He brought his face inches from mine and surged deeper. “You’re not done, Monroe.”
With two fingers, he found where we were joined, and using my wetness, he focused on my clit.
Instantly, I shuddered.
“That’s it. I knew you’d like this.”
Eyes closed, I willed myself to hold back.
But Gabe wouldn’t allow it. Somehow, he gently circled my clit with his thumb while fucking me hard and fast.
My muscles pulsed around him again, the familiar sensation pooling in my core.
No. It wasn’t possible.
I didn’t
I couldn’t.
His eyes glazed over, every muscle in his body clenching. The sight was devastating in the best way.
“Look at me,” he commanded, his control hanging on by a thread.
As I obeyed, a downright filthy look passed through his bright baby blues.
And then I was coming again.
Screaming out with abandon, back arching, flailing with enough intensity to pull a muscle in my neck.
He thickened inside me, and with a groan, he collapsed, his heart pounding against mine, the weight of his heated body pinning me to the bed.
I should have escaped. Run away. At the very least, I should have insulted him.
But I was too wrung out.
“We will never speak of this,” I said softly.
He chuckled darkly. “I’m still inside you.”
“You’re thirty-five.” I scoffed. “It’s not like you can go again.”
He pushed up onto his elbows and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.
“Sweetheart, if you want me to fuck you again, all you have to do is ask.”
I didn’t ask. Not because I didn’t want him to. Mainly because I couldn’t imagine a man in his thirties could have such a quick refractory period.