Andyou were supposed to help me get back into the game, not block me from going out with any other men ever again!
Before I can even react to the intensity of his kiss, the way his tongue is inside my mouth, making me forget all my questions, the way he’s pressing his entire body against mine like he’s relieved to see me, he’s spinning me around, unzipping my dress with that same confidence he had zipping me into it two hours ago except this time he’s frantic.
The fabric pools at my feet, a soft puddle of material on the floor. He helps me step out of it, his strong hands steady, and then with one deft movement, he unsnaps my bra.
My breasts fall free, heavy, aching for his touch and already turned on. He wastes no time, reaching around my front, cupping them both, his palms warm as he kneads them, squeezing just enough to make me gasp. His fingers find my nipples, rollingthem between his thumb and forefinger, tugging lightly, teasing them into stiff, puffy peaks until I feel like I might come just from the way he’s touching me.
My head rests against his chest, his scent, light smoke from the fireplace, whiskey and leather from his bike, coats my skin deliciously. A deep, satisfied sound rumbles from his chest.
“You’re perfect,” he says softly in my ear as he plays with my body.
The relief that I’m finally being taken care of hits me instantly. Like my body has been holding its breath for hours and is only just now allowed to exhale. He’s finally touching me.
Every place that’s been lit up and aching since I left his house is suddenly under his hands, his attention focused on me, like he’s reacquainting himself with every inch of my skin.
He doesn’t rush it. Doesn’t miss anything. His palms glide over my waist, my ribs, my stomach, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. His fingers slide lower, curling around my hips where they dig in just enough to make it sting. Then they move lower. He brushes over my pussy once with a single digit. It’s enough to have me rocking forward. A slow, teasing graze that sends a sharp pulse of need straight through my body.
“One foot on the couch cushion, the other on the floor,” he says in my ear, his voice dark and velvety.
I do as he says, shifting forward into the position he wants, one step up, my back arching slightly as he presses his palm against the small of my spine, bending me forward to position me where he wants me. My dark hair cascades over my shoulder as I exhale shakily, heart hammering in my chest.
“Good girl. You look so beautiful bent over like this, Alessia.”
I love the way he says my name. Thousands of people have called for me in my life, have needed something from me, have spoken my name in passing or in praise. But none of them have ever said it the way he does. Like it’s both an exaltation and aninhalation. Like the word itself is something precious he has to draw into his lungs before he lets it go.
He drops to his knees behind me, and I feel him everywhere. His warm breath on my thighs, his hands gripping my hips, thumbs pressing into the curve of my ass as he spreads me open, exposing me fully to him. A slow, wet lick from my clit all the way up and across my ass sends a violent shudder through me.
I grip the couch, knuckles white, trying to steady myself, trying to hold onto some sliver of control, but it’s impossible when he’s doing that. I’ve been aching for this for over two hours now. My pussy is throbbing, clit oversensitive from rubbing together with every damn step I took in that restaurant. I was so wet, so ready, still leaking with his cum, I could barely think straight to make the drive home. And now he’s taking his time—making me wait for it all over again.
A satisfied hum runs through his throat and out onto the tip of his tongue he has pressed against my clit.
“We taste so good together. Do you want a taste, sweetheart?”
My eyes are sealed shut, my body bent over while he holds me in place.
“Yes.”
He slides a finger inside my pussy and then reaches between my legs to press it past the seam of my lip. I taste him. I taste me. I taste us and I suck. It’s warm, a little salty and something I’ve never, ever done before.
“Say you like the way that we taste.”
I don’t say anything.
“Alessia, say we taste good together. Say that you like the way we taste and that it turns you on to suck our come off my fingers.”
I can’t believe I ever thought Gabriel was just a nice guy whoworks in construction who raised his sister. I blow out a heavy breath becausewhew, the dirty talk.
“I like the way we taste. We taste good together.”
He chuckles. “We do, sweetheart.” And then his tongue plunges deep inside me.
I let out a strangled moan as his fingers tighten on my ass, holding me still while he devours me. His tongue flicks against my pussy, then pushes in again, deeper, slow at first, then with more pressure, more urgency. His nose brushes my clit, teasing, and I nearly collapse forward onto the couch from the sheer force of his touch.
His lips find my clit next, sucking it into his mouth, and I watch between my legs, my breath catching, my body trembling as I hang my head upside down, getting the show of my fucking life.
“I didn’t want to do that, Aly,” he rasps, voice rough with restraint as he sucks, nips, and flicks against my soaked core.
I shudder, my whole body locked up, trembling, pleasure crackling through me like a live wire. I want to be mad still, I should be mad that he didn’t let me come, but the way he hums against my clit—the way he eats pussyso, sogood—vibrations rolling through me from my head to my toes—makes it impossible to stay angry.
