Instead of words, I let out a soft, mischievous laugh that tells him exactly what I think of his warning.
His response is immediate and devastating. In one fluid motion, he rolls me onto my stomach, his hands gripping my hips to pull my ass up while pressing my face gently into the pillow. The position leaves me completely exposed, completely at his mercy, and the rush of vulnerability mixed with desperate desire makes me dizzy.
"This what you want?" he asks, his palms smoothing over the curves of my ass before spreading me open with possessive hands. "Want me to taste this sweet pussy until you scream my name?"
"Please," I gasp into the pillow, already trembling with anticipation that borders on desperation.
His tongue is hot and wicked as it sweeps through my folds, finding every sensitive spot with the devastatingprecision of a man who's made it his mission to memorize my body.
He licks me like he's starving, like the taste of me is something he needs to survive another day. When he finds my clit and sucks it between his lips, I cry out and push back against his mouth, chasing more of that perfect pressure.
"That's it," he growls against my core, the vibration sending shockwaves through me. "Take what you need, baby. Show me how much you want it."
He works me with his mouth and fingers until I'm sobbing with pleasure, until my whole body is wound tight as a violin string. When my orgasm crashes over me, I bite down on the pillow to muffle my scream, my body convulsing as wave after wave of sensation washes through me like a riptide.
Before I can even begin to recover, Gabriel's rising behind me, the thick head of his cock pressing against my entrance with deliberate intent. He slides into me in one smooth thrust, filling me so completely I can't tell where I end and he begins, and then his full weight settles over my back as we both sink into the mattress together.
His hand finds my throat again, not squeezing but holding, anchoring me to this moment, to him.
Suddenly I can't move at all, I'm pinned beneath him, surrounded by him, completely at his mercy. It should terrify me, should send my fight-or-flight response into overdrive.
Instead, it makes me feel treasured, protected, like nothing in the world can touch me as long as he's covering me like this.
"You feel that?" he whispers against my ear, his hips moving in slow, torturous circles that make me whimper. "Feel how deep I am? How good you take me?"
I can only make incoherent sounds in response, caught between the exquisite fullness of him inside me and the weight of his body holding me captive.
He starts to move, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in with agonizing slowness. Each thrust is deliberate, measured, designed to drive me insane with need.
"Gabriel," I gasp, trying to push back against him, but he holds me still with effortless strength.
"No rushing," he commands, his voice dark with absolute control. "I want to feel every inch of you. Want you to remember exactly who you belong to."
The possessive words combined with his torturously slow pace have me trembling beneath him like a leaf in a storm. He moves inside me like he has all the time in the world, like nothing exists beyond this bed and the connection between our bodies.
The hand at my throat keeps me grounded while the other traces patterns on my hip, anchoring me to him, to this moment, to the promise of belonging to someone again.
"Come for me," he orders when I'm shaking with desperate need, his rhythm finally increasing. "Let me feel you fall apart around my cock."
The command breaks me completely. I shatter beneath him with a cry that tears from my throat, my inner walls clenching around him as pleasure consumes every nerve ending.
Gabriel follows me over the edge with a growl that sounds like my name, his hips jerking as he spills himself deep inside me, his weight pressing me further into the mattress as he claims every inch of my soul.
We stay connected for long moments afterward, both of us breathing hard, his body still covering mine protectively. When he finally shifts to gather me against his side, I feel the loss of his weight like a physical ache.
"You okay?" he asks softly, his fingers combing through my hair with infinite gentleness.
"Perfect," I whisper, and I mean it more than I've ever meant anything.
In his arms, I feel whole in a way I haven't since before my mother died. Safe and cherished and exactly where I belong.
We drift in comfortable silence, his hands mapping lazy patterns on my skin while I trace the scars on his chest. Small imperfections that tell the story of a man who's spent his life protecting others, putting himself between danger and the people he's sworn to serve.
My fingers explore the ridged muscle of his abdomen, the way his skin stretches taut over his ribs when he breathes. There's a thin white line along his collarbone that feels raised under my touch, and when I trace it, his breath hitches slightly.
"Afghanistan," he says quietly, understanding my unspoken question. "Shrapnel from an IED that took out our convoy."
I press my lips to the scar, tasting salt and something uniquely him. "Does it hurt?"
