“Christ, that’s good.” His eyes were heavy-lidded, his features stark with arousal. “Take me deeper, princess. As deep as you can.”
Giddy with newfound knowledge, she obeyed. It was thrilling to make love to him this way, to hear his grunted breaths as she tried to take as much of him in her mouth as possible. His dark encouragement inflamed her.Relax your jaw, love. Breathe through your nose. Swallow my cock—God yes, like that…
Given his size, the task wasn’t easy. When she went too far, she choked, her throat convulsing around his thickness. A groan ripped from Gabriel’s chest.
An instant later, he dragged her head up, and before she could catch her breath, she was tossed upon the bed, his mouth between her legs. His tongue stabbed deeply into her drenched core. He ravaged her sex, licking, sucking. The storm broke inside her, robbing her of all control.
She bucked against his mouth, the climax wringing mindless words from her. “I love you, Gabriel.”
In the next instant, she was flipped onto her belly, his fingers thrusting into her from behind. The sudden fullness made her gasp, building on the rippling spasms of her orgasm. He penetrated her forcefully, slick hard pumps that sent her soaring toward another peak. He rammed into a place deep inside, and with a startled cry, she went over again. Suffused in bliss, her cheek pressed against the coverlet, she felt his fingers glide along the valley of her bottom, spreading her wetness there.
She jolted at the thick, weighted slide of his cock along the crevice.
“So good, princess.” His voice was thick, urgent. “Let me have you this way.”
Heart pounding, she let her cheek fall back onto the silk. His palms pressed the hills of her bottom together, and her breath hitched at the decadent friction of his erection gliding between. Panting, he began to thrust in a bold rhythm, his hardness rubbing against her delicate tissues, his bollocks slapping against her softness.
Unbelievably, she felt yet another climax building within her. Her pussy throbbed, his plunges grinding her against the mattress, but not stimulating the place where she needed it most…
“Touch yourself.” His voice poured over her. “Come for me one more time.”
It was so easy to obey. Her hand slipping beneath her, she found her pearl, pressing it, letting his rocking motion do the rest. He groaned her name, and she felt the scorching lash of his seed on her back as ecstasy claimed her once more.
The moist sweep of a towel brought her back to her senses. As he tended to her, she lay there, her body limp with pleasure but her pulse pounding. She hadn’t meant to let slip those words of love, but it was too late to take them back. How would he react to her confession? She felt vulnerable, naked beyond her uncovered skin: it was her heart that she’d bared to him. Their future felt balanced upon his reaction, the next moment.
He turned her over and tugged her to her feet. Eyes impassive, he brushed his lips over her forehead. She waited, breath held.
“We’d better get you back to your room,” he said.
Chapter Thirty
London was always a hodgepodge of sights, sounds, and smells. Nowhere was this more apparent than the neighborhood in which Tiberius lived. From a tavern window, Gabriel watched the mix of affluence, poverty, and a distinct criminal element jostling together in the streets of Lincoln’s Fields Inn. It was nearing dusk, businessmen and laborers returning home from their day’s work just as pickpockets and thieves began to ply their trade. Already Gabriel had spotted two well-to-do merchants being relieved of their wallets.
Across the table from him, Pompeia smirked. “Easy pickings if I ever saw. Pigeons like that deserved to be plucked.”
It was easy to forget that she was a marchioness. A brassy wig, paint, and disreputable gown covered up any glimpse of the fashionable Lady Blackwood. She looked like someone who belonged in this smoky public house filled with the smell of roasting meat, the tables sticky with spilled ale.
Gabriel himself was also disguised. He’d darkened his hair, donned a moustache. His clothes were the kind one wore to convince a customer that the goods one was pimping were worth the price and wouldn’t give you the pox.
It was altogether strange to be on a mission with his one-time colleague. He didn’t entirely trust Pompeia, but the enemy of an enemy was a friend. At present, under the guise of pimp and prostitute trolling for the night’s work, he and Pompeia occupied a window seat at the tavern, keeping watch on the second-storey flat across the street. The light in the apartment window, the occasional shadow flitting behind the shade, told them the subject had not yet left the premises.
“It’s getting late. Why hasn’t Tiberius left?” Pompeia said under her breath.
An echo of his own thoughts. To lure Tiberius out from his lair, they’d laid out bait. Cicero had sent Tiberius a note, saying they had urgent business to discuss. Gabriel didn’t know what Cicero had planned, but whatever it was, it would be good. More than once, Cicero’s silver tongue had come in handy. Tonight, they were depending on him to keep Tiberius occupied whilst Gabriel and Pompeia performed the search.
“There’s still time.” Gabriel sipped his ale. It tasted like piss.
“I have until midnight. Blackwood expects me home when he returns from the club.”
“How domestic you’ve become.”
Her eyes had a dangerous spark. “Don’t mock me, Trajan. He’s the only reason I’m here. I couldn’t give a damn about spy business otherwise.”
“You proved that years ago,” he said coolly. “After all, you jumped ship right before it capsized. With the rest of us in it.”
“I owed you nothing. I gave years to Octavian, the obsessed bastard, and in return he bled me dry.” To an outsider, Pompeia’s expression was so bland she might have been discussing the quality of the beefsteak. “I wasn’t about to let him take what remained of my soul. You chose to stay—that was your problem, not mine. Don’t lay the consequences of your misguided loyalty at my door.”
He tore off a chunk of bread. “I wouldn’t expect you to know anything of loyalty.”
