Chapter 11 #4
My hand stills instantly, my body obeying before my brain even processes the word. My fingers are buried to the knuckles in her wet, clinging heat, but I don't move them. I don't dare.
Rosalina's eyes fly open, wide and confused and devastated and desperate. A broken, frustrated sound tears from her throat, raw and needy. "No… please… don't stop—"
"I said stop, Luca." Gabriel's voice is calm, but it brooks absolutely no argument.
Slowly, carefully, like I'm defusing a bomb, I withdraw my fingers from her heat.
They glisten in the low light, coated in her arousal.
Rosalina sags against the doorjamb, trembling violently, her expression one of utterly devastated need.
She looks at me, her lips forming a pout that is both adorable and obscenely hot, her eyes pleading.
"Don't look at me like that, baby," I chuckle, though my own need is a painful throb in my jeans that's making it hard to think.
I bring my wet fingers to my mouth, suck them clean without breaking eye contact with Gabriel.
Her taste explodes on my tongue—musky, sweet, addictive, perfect. "The man said stop."
Gabriel gets up from the couch. He moves with a predatory grace that is so different from my own restless energy—controlled, deliberate, dangerous.
He's a hunter, and right now Rosalina is his prey.
He stands before her, looking down at her disheveled, half-naked form with those sharp gray eyes. "Undress," he says simply.
She blinks, the daze of interrupted climax still clouding her eyes. "What?"
"You heard him," I say, leaning back against the opposite side of the doorjamb, crossing my arms over my chest, settling in to watch the show. "Take it all off. For us."
A flash of defiance sparks in her hazel eyes. The brat. She likes this. She loves this. She hesitates, her hands coming up to cover her breasts, suddenly shy despite everything we've just done.
Gabriel simply raises an eyebrow, his expression calm but unyielding. "Now, Rosalina. Or we stop entirely, and you can finish yourself off alone in your room."
The threat works. With a huff that's all performance—that familiar bratty attitude that makes me want to bend her over my knee—she pushes away from the doorjamb.
She toes off her sneakers, kicking them aside.
Then, with deliberate slowness that's absolutely intentional, she peels the ruined red top from her shoulders.
It falls to the floor in a puddle of torn cotton.
She keeps her eyes on Gabriel, a challenge in her gaze, as she works the button of her leather shorts.
The zipper rasps in the quiet, impossibly loud.
She shimmies, pushing the tight material over her hips, down her thighs, working them past her knees.
She steps out of them, standing in just a pair of soaked, black lace panties that are practically transparent with her arousal.
"Those too," I say, my voice thick with want.
She hooks her thumbs in the sides and slides them down her legs, slow and deliberate, kicking them aside.
And then she's just… there. Naked. Glowing in the lamplight.
Blush painting her chest and throat and face.
Her body is a fucking dream—soft curves, a narrow waist, full breasts with those perfect dusky nipples, the gorgeous swell of her ass.
And between her thighs, the neat, dark triangle of curls is glistening with her arousal, wet and swollen and ready.
Gabriel's gaze burns over every inch of her, possessive and hungry.
He nods, almost to himself, like he's confirming something he already knew.
Then he returns to the couch and sits, spreading his legs wide.
He undoes his trousers with practiced efficiency, freeing his cock.
It's thick and hard, already weeping at the tip, the head flushed dark with blood.
He doesn't stroke it. He just lets it stand there—proud and rigid like an admiral waiting for a command, or an eager private wanting to make their superior proud.
"Come here," he says to her, his eyes dark pools of want.
She looks from him to me, uncertainty flickering across her face. I give her a slow, encouraging nod. Go on, baby.
Swallowing hard, Rosalina drops to her hands and knees on the plush rug.
The sight is fucking breathtaking, steals the air from my lungs.
The elegant line of her spine, the shift of muscle in her shoulders, the full, perfect cheeks of her ass swaying as she moves.
She crawls towards him, a slow, sinuous approach that has me hardening to the point of pain, my cock straining so hard against my jeans I think the zipper might break.
She reaches him and, without further instruction, without any hesitation, leans in.
Her tongue darts out, a pink swipe across the broad head of his cock, tasting the precum beading there.
Gabriel's breath hitches, just slightly—the only crack in his controlled facade.
That's all the encouragement she needs. She opens her mouth and takes him in, her lips stretching around his girth.
I'm moving before I even think about it.
I shuck my jeans and boxers in record time, my own cock springing free, thick and aching.
I come up behind her, kneeling on the rug between her spread knees.
The scent of her is dizzying up close—warm skin, the perfume she wore shopping, and the heady, unmistakable smell of her arousal that makes my mouth water.
I lean down, my hands spreading her ass cheeks, exposing her completely, and I bury my face between her legs from behind.
She jerks, a muffled cry vibrating around Gabriel's cock as my tongue finds her.
She's slick and swollen, her folds parted and eager, practically dripping.
I lick her, broad strokes from her clit down to her entrance and back up, tasting her deeply, reveling in the way her body trembles under my mouth.
I fuck her with my tongue, plunging inside her, feeling her clench around it, then zero in on her clit, sucking the hard little bud gently.
Her hips push back against my face, grinding, seeking more, her moans vibrating against Gabriel's length. He watches, one hand coming up to tangle in her light brown hair. "She's good at this," he remarks, his voice strained with the effort of maintaining control.
"She's perfect," I growl against her wet flesh. I can't wait any longer. Need is a fire in my blood, consuming me. I line up the head of my cock with her dripping entrance, feeling the heat of her against my tip. I push forward, just an inch, stretching her open.
She gasps, releasing Gabriel for a moment, her head lifting. "Luca—"
"Shhh, baby," I soothe, pushing in another devastating inch.
She's so tight, so hot, she threatens to undo me immediately.
I have to grit my teeth, have to force myself to go slow.
I sink deeper, slowly, inch by torturous inch, until I'm fully sheathed inside her, my hips pressed flush against the backs of her thighs.
A groan tears from my chest. "Fuck. You feel that?
You're taking all of me. Every fucking inch. "
I pull almost all the way out—so slow it's torture—and thrust back in hard, setting a deep, relentless pace.
My hands grip her hips, holding her steady as I fuck her.
The sounds are filthy, obscene—the wet slap of skin on skin, our combined ragged breathing, the soft, choked sounds she makes with Gabriel's cock back in her mouth, filling her throat.
"Look at her," I grit out, my eyes on Gabriel's face, watching his composure crack. "Getting fucked from both ends. Used. Isn't she beautiful like this?"
Gabriel's jaw is tight, his hips beginning to move, fucking up into her mouth in short, sharp thrusts. "She is," he agrees, his voice rough.
An idea, dark and delicious and utterly depraved, takes hold in my mind.
I lean over her back, pressing my chest to her sweat-slick skin, and reach between us.
My thumb finds the tight, wrinkled pucker of her asshole.
I rub it, circling, teasing, feeling her flinch and then push back against the pressure.
She's so open right now, so vulnerable, so trusting.
"Think about it, Rosie," I whisper into her ear, my thrusts never slowing, never stopping.
"How much better it'll be when every hole is filled.
When there's no part of you that isn't ours.
" I press my thumb against her, just the very tip breaching that tight ring of muscle.
Her cunt convulses around my cock, a sudden, violent spasm of pleasure.
She screams around Gabriel, the sound muffled but desperate, broken.
"Christ," Gabriel snarls, his control snapping completely. His hand fists tighter in her hair, holding her in place, his hips pistoning. He's fucking her mouth in earnest now, chasing his release. "I'm gonna come. Take it, Rosalina. Swallow it. All of it."
I watch, mesmerized, as his body goes rigid.
A low, guttural groan rips from him as he empties himself down her throat, his face contorting with pleasure.
She gags slightly, then swallows, her throat working convulsively, taking everything he gives her.
When he finally softens and slips from her lips, she's panting, saliva and come glistening on her chin, dripping down her neck.
She looks utterly wrecked. Destroyed. Used. And it's the hottest fucking thing I've ever seen.
It pushes me over the edge. My own climax gathers at the base of my spine, a tight, coiling inferno in my balls. I grab a handful of her hair pulling her head back just enough to see her blissed-out face, her glazed eyes, her swollen lips.
"Gonna fill you up, baby," I grunt, my vision spotting at the edges, pleasure building to an impossible peak. "Gonna mark you from the inside. My cock. My come. Mine."
I bury myself to the hilt one final time and let go.
The release is seismic, volcanic, tearing through me in pulsing waves that seem to go on forever.
I shout, my hips jerking against her as I pump her full, marking her, claiming her, my grip on her hair tightening as I ride out the endless pleasure.
For a moment, there is only sound—our ragged breathing, the settling of the house around us, the distant hum of traffic outside.
Then, my strength gives out completely. I collapse forward, half on top of her, my body spent and shuddering.
We slump together onto the rug in a boneless, sweaty heap, Gabriel's legs still beside us on the couch.
My face is buried in her hair. Her scent is everywhere, surrounding me. My heart is a cannon against my ribs, pounding so hard I think it might burst.
Fuck. That was amazing.
"That," Gabriel says after a long moment, his voice rough and satisfied, "was incredible."
I laugh, my mind blissfully empty, my body completely satisfied. "Told you I'd make her scream my name so loud the entire house heard it."
"You certainly delivered on that promise," Gabriel says, and there's warmth in his tone, affection mixed with satisfaction.
Rosalina lifts her head from where it's pillowed on my arm, her hair a wild mess, her lips swollen, her eyes heavy-lidded and dazed. "You two are going to kill me."
"What a way to go," I murmur, pressing a kiss to her forehead, then her temple, then her cheek.
She laughs—a soft, exhausted sound that makes my chest feel warm—and settles back against me. Gabriel reaches over, his hand settling on her hip, his thumb stroking her skin gently, connecting all three of us in the aftermath.
This. This right here. This is what I've been missing all week.
Not just the sex—though fuck, that was incredible, better than incredible—but this. The three of us together. The intimacy. The trust. The way we fit together like pieces of a puzzle that was always meant to be complete.
"We should probably move," Gabriel says eventually, ever practical. "The floor cannot be comfortable."
"Don't wanna move," Rosalina mumbles against my chest, her words slurred with exhaustion.
"Me neither," I agree, tightening my arm around her. "Floor is perfect."
Gabriel sighs, but he's smiling—actually smiling, one of those rare, genuine expressions that transforms his entire face. "Fine. But when Dante gets home and finds us naked on the living room floor, I am blaming both of you."
"Deal," I say, pulling Rosalina closer, feeling her heartbeat against mine.
And we stay there, tangled together on the rug, limbs intertwined, hearts slowing to a normal rhythm, until the sun sets and casts the room in orange and gold, until we hear Dante's car pull into the driveway.
But that's a problem for later.
Right now, this is perfect.
Right now, this is everything.