Bringing her back down, he pushed into her slowly, lifting her off at the halfway mark. It was self-inflicted torture and it was amazing. “You are so tiny, Charlotte.” It fucking turned him on how easily he could handle her, position her. “Am I hurting you?” Because the handling was only fun if she was with him.
“No,” she whispered and pressed her cheek to the stubbled roughness of his own. “Fuck me, Gabriel.”
Oh Jesus!
Gritting his teeth against the impact of that breathy request, he gave her control again. “As slow or as fast as you want.” He had no doubts she could take him, but he had to be gentle until she was used to his size. He figured it’d be easier for her to take the reins this time—but Charlotte kind of froze on him when he said the words.
He immediately put his hands back on her, realizing his sexy Ms. Baird wasn’t yet confident enough to take him up on his offer. “Then again”—he sucked on the skin above her pulse, hard enough to leave a mark and make her groan—“I do like being the boss.”
More kisses to coax her to melting softness against him once more. “But you’ll tell me if it hurts. Understood?”
A nod against him, her body quivering.
Gripping her under her thigh with one hand to give her extra support, he pinched her clit between the thumb and forefinger of his other hand. She cried out, sank deeper on him. His cock ached, his entire body burning up from the inside, but there was no way he was messing this up. Circling his thumb around the slippery nub he’d pinched, he let her take him at her own pace.
The final inches made her shudder, her flesh so tightly stretched around his girth that when he ran his finger around the tightness, she gave a little scream and came in hard pulses that threatened to milk him dry.
He had no idea how he managed to last until the erotic ripples of her body eased enough that he could lift her off him, then bring her back down as he thrust into her. It was harder than he’d intended, but Charlotte just held on tighter, her breaths hot against his ear. “Gabriel, please. Gabriel.”
“I’ve got you.” He lifted her again, thrust in deeper and faster. “I’ve got you.” A final stroke before his balls drew up against his body, his muscles locked in an orgasm that punched through him harder than the hardest tackle he’d ever taken on the field.
30
DIRTY TALK WITH A T-REX
CHARLOTTE WASN’T QUITE SURE how she’d ended up lying on top of Gabriel’s bare chest on the sofa, the bodice of her dress mostly buttoned, but it was so very nice and warm and wonderful that she just snuggled in. Eyes heavy, she pressed a kiss to the skin under her and ran her hand down his lightly furred chest, stopping to trace the intricate lines of the tattoo that covered his pectoral muscle. “This is so beautiful.”
“I think the word you’re looking for is manly.” A rumble of sound under her, Gabriel’s hand on her bare butt.
Smiling, she kissed him again, licked up the taste of salt on his skin.
“Did it work?”
Nuzzling at him, she ran her foot down his leg—which was half-hanging off the end of the sofa—and frowned at the feel of fabric under her. “You didn’t take off your pants.” That seemed vaguely dirty, that he’d… fucked her without taking off his pants.
“If I take off my pants, I’ll be inside you again in about ten seconds.”
Skin tingling, she rubbed her cheek against him. “I won’t mind.” He’d felt so good inside her, so hard and thick and hot. But he’d felt even better around her, warm and big and protective.
Gabriel petted her ass, unabashed in his enjoyment of her body. “So it worked.”
This time she understood. “Yes.” The scars had been well and truly cut out. “I really like being with you.”
He made a deep sound in his chest and stroked her hair off her face. Only then did she realize it was out of its bun. But that was fine, wonderful… until he fisted his hand in her hair and tugged up her head. Terror screamed to life in her blood, making her lungs strain, black spots dancing in front of her eyes.
Shoving at him, she would’ve fallen off the sofa if Gabriel hadn’t curled his arm around her waist. “Charlotte!”
She wrenched even harder, and this time she managed to get off—to fall hard onto her tailbone. The shock of pain snapped through the panic, had her staring up at Gabriel as he sat up on the sofa, his hand reaching out toward her. “Are you hurt?”
She shook her head in a quick, jerky movement. She’d ruined it. It had been beautiful and she’d ruined it. Humiliated and sad and angry, she got up onto her knees, then scrambled to her feet. “You should go.” She couldn’t meet his eyes, wanted only to curl up into a ball and rock herself through the pain.