His tongue is hot and demanding, lapping at me like he's starving for it.
He doesn't tease or build up slow.
He dives in, sucking my clit into his mouth, his hands gripping my ass to hold me still while he devours me.
I cry out, the sound muffled by my own hand clamping over my mouth. He doesn't stop.
He feasts on me, his tongue fucking into me, then circling my clit, then back again, building into a frenzied rhythm that has my thighs shaking.
"Gabe, I'm— I'm gonna?—"
He pulls back just enough to growl, "Not yet."
I whimper and shake as he stands, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and that sight alone almost makes me come. He kisses me again, and I taste myself on his tongue.
His hand goes back between my legs, two fingers sliding into me without warning.
I gasp into his mouth, my body clenching around the intrusion. He pumps them slow and deep, curling them just right, his thumb pressing against my clit. "You're so tight," he murmurs against my lips. "So fucking tight."
Another moan spills out as his words send a fresh wave of heat through me.
His fingers move faster, his thumb circling, and I'm so close, teetering on the edge. "Ask permission," he commands, voice rough. "Ask me if you can come."
The words should piss me off. From Brandon, they would, though he'd never have the balls to be half the man Gabe is and make it sound the way Gabe does.Gabesays it in a way that makes me hotter. "Please," I gasp. "Please, can I?—"
"Come for me." He bites my earlobe. "Now."
I shatter. The orgasm rips through me, hard and fast, my body convulsing around his fingers, my cry muffled against his shoulder.
He holds me through it, murmuring filthy praise in my ear—"That's it, good girl, fuck, you're beautiful when you come"—until I'm limp and trembling in his arms. He slowly withdraws his fingers, bringing them to his mouth and sucking them cleanwhile I watch, dazed. Then he adjusts my dress, smoothing it down over my thighs like he's taking care of what's his.
I lean against the shed wall, legs like jelly, trying to catch my breath. He steps close again, bracketing me in with his arms, his body a solid wall of heat and muscle. "One question," he murmurs silkily. "Do you want to come home with me?"
4
LENA
I stare up at him, my brain still fuzzy from the orgasm, my body already craving more.
The responsible answer is no.
The safe answer is no.
But I've spent too long being safe, being responsible, being with boys who didn't know what to do with me. "Yes," I whisper. "I want to come home with you."
He smiles like he knew I'd say this—damn him—and I know I'm in way over my head. "Good." He takes my hand again, threading our fingers together. "Let's go." I give him a little nod, and he takes me to his car.
Gabe's fingers dig into my thigh the whole drive over, his thumb pressing slow circles that creep higher with every stoplight.
The car feels too small for the tension building between us, and I don't pull away.
I let my knees fall open a little wider instead, the dress riding up until his hand rests against bare skin.
He glances over once, eyes dark in the passing streetlights, and squeezes just hard enough to make me bite my lip.
We pull into his driveway, and he cuts the engine without a word. The silence wraps around us as he gets out and walks around to open my door.
He takes my hand when I step out, his grip firm and unyielding, and leads me up the walk to the front door.
