I work at the hem of his sweatshirt. He lifts his arms and I pull it over his head and toss it somewhere behind me. I spread my palms flat against his chest, feeling his warm skin and the slow steady thud of his heart. I feel him inhale sharply beneath my hands.
He looks at me like I'm something he's been trying not to want for a very long time.
"Natalie." My name in his mouth sounds different than it does anywhere else. Lower. More careful.
I reach up and push the hair back from his forehead. "I know," I say softly. "Me too."
He flips us gently so my back meets the cushions and his weight settles above me, braced on his forearms. I look up at him. His hair is now slightly disheveled, his chest bare, and his expression is open in a way I've never seen outside of this moment.
His hands find the hem of my pajama top. He pauses, eyes finding mine.
I lift my arms.
The soft fabric joins his sweatshirt somewhere on the floor. His breath changes and the way he looks at me makes my skin feel electric.
He lowers his mouth to my throat, my collarbone, the curve of my shoulder, and I stop cataloguing things entirely. I just feel. His mouth is warm and unhurried and devastating. I arch into him, fingers threading into his hair, and somewhere across the room Daisy lets out a sleepy sigh that neither of us acknowledges.
"You okay?" he murmurs against my skin.
"More than okay." My voice comes out breathless. "Don't stop."
His warm breath is at my nipple as I anticipate his tongue. With one hand, he caresses my breast as his tongue flicks and tastes my nipple until it's rock hard.
"Natalie, you are so sexy and perfect."
"OMG, Gabriel, you’re turning me on."
"I bet you’re soaking wet."
"I bet I am."
With a groan he kisses me again as he reaches down to my waistband.
The pajama bottoms go. His jeans follow. The television drones on, indifferent and low.
And then Gabriel reaches back and pulls the folded blanket from the top of the couch. He shakes it open and draws it over us both. This quiet, tender gesture in the middle of everything cracks me open more than any of the rest of it.
I pull him close beneath the warmth of it and stop thinking about emotional consequences.
I reach down and feel his hard length pushing against my thighs.
"You're happy to see me," I joke.
"You have no idea," he groans as his hand moves down toward my lower area. His fingers explore between my folds until he finds my hard clit.
"Baby, you are so wet and excited already for me," he whispers in my ear.
"That feels so good. Keep doing that."
His fingers play with my clit, circling around it, down to my entry with two fingers in and out, and then back up to my clit.
I can no longer be still. I start moving my hips with the rhythm of his hand alternating between my entry and my clit until I can't take it anymore.
"Gabriel, you'll need to stop or I'm going over the edge," I gasp.
"I want to feel you cum right on my fingers. Let yourself go, Natalie. I've got you."
I've got you.
