And he’s turning, grabbing the front of my shirt in a fist and, thank God, he yanks me inside with him. The door has barely swooshed shut when he slams my back into the wall. He has one hand in my hair and one on my hip, pressing tightly into the curve of it below my belt.
His mouth is wanton, his tongue searching and needy and my mouth is willingly a refuge. I can’t get over how good this feels. Better than the first time. Better than the sauna. That wasn’t real. He was taunting me, not wanting me. This isallwant.
He pulls my bottom lip between his teeth as he leans back. When he finally lets go his eyes are glassy and dark and he rasps, “I don’t want to pressure you.”
“The only pressure I have is in my pants,” I blurt out, but don’t have time to even blush about it because Gabriel is grinning and a chuckle bubbles up from his chest before he kisses me again.
I tangle my hands in his hair like I did that first night. It's so soft and thick and my fingers disappear into it on a wave of nostalgia. His hand slips from my hip to my belt and he starts undoing it. And I don't even think of stopping him. In fact, my brain is cheering him on like a cheerleader at an American football game.
His lips move to my ear and that dirty little mouth of his kicks in. "I want to suck you off. It's been on my to-do list for too long. And when you disappeared I thought I'd never get to cross it off."
“Gabriel,” I pant out his name as he lowers the zipper on my pants and palms my hard cock through my boxer-briefs. The pressure on my cock lightens, our eyes meet. I want to say something but I’m suddenly shy. And overwhelmed. But still eager so I cup the back of his strong neck—Jesus, F1 drivers have thick, muscular necks—and pull his lips to mine again.
My tongue barges into his mouth and my lips suck and pull on his bottom lip. I tip my hips, pressing my cock into his palm again. He grabs my shoulder with his free hand and holds me still. “I need permission. I’m bossy and pushy but I’m not… selfish or greedy. Consent. I need consent. Tell me you want to fuck my mouth”
“Gabriel Allard.” My breath is shaky but my words are sturdy. “I want to fuck your mouth. Please. Now.”
He’s gone. Dropping to his knees, yanking my boxer-briefs down my thighs. He wraps a strong hand around my base and I swear to God the ground shifts beneath my feet as his lips brush my tip. My head falls back and makes a dull thud sound as it connects with the wall. My eyes flutter closed and my mouth falls open as his lips circle my cock and he slides down over the whole damn thing in one long, slow motion.
I let out a strangled groan. Gabriel’s pace becomes relentless and I’m fighting my release within seconds. He knows it too, the glint in his eyes as he looks up at me from under his dark blond lashes is cocky. Heat climbs my neck, and he tugs roughly on my balls and that’s it. It’s over. I’m coming before I can even warn him. My whole body shakes during its own personal earthquake, and I grab him by his hair and try to pull him off, but he’s not having it. He sucks down every drop of me until my knees are buckling and I’m slipping down the wall. I land in a limbless heap and realize through the haze of my orgasm that Gabriel has, at some point, tugged his own pants and underwear down his thighs and is jerking himself off.
I wrap my hand around his and join his efforts. Our lips crash together for the briefest, hottest kiss, which is salty with the taste of me. It ends as Gabriel groans into my mouth and ropes of his come land on my shirt and his thighs.
His head drops forward, his forehead landing on my shoulder. I turn my head and kiss his face just in front of his earlobe. “That was…”
There are a lot of ways I want to finish that sentence, but most of them are crazily vulnerable and completely romantic and, quite frankly, should send Gabriel running. So I pick the least bold of all. "That was worth the wait."
“See, that’s where we differ,” Gabriel says as he gracefully gets to his feet and pulls me up too. “The fact that we’re so hot together just makes me angry we waited this long. You should have reached out sooner.”
I’m trying to figure out how to respond to that, but Gabriel doesn’t wait for a response. He pulls me by the hand and we both kick out of our pants and underwear and walk to the bathroom to clean up.
Five minutes later, with the endorphins cooling in our blood, and warm washcloths taking care of the mess we made, Gabriel speaks in such a quiet even tone I almost miss it. "So, this was consensual, right?"
“Of course,” I reply, concern pulling my eyebrows together as I watch him wipe his rippled abdomen in the mirror. “I know I can seem a bit timid, but I have promised myself I won’t be anyone’s pawn again. If I didn’t want it, it wouldn’t have happened, Gabe. I swear.”
He nods. “Okay.”
He doesn’t sound convinced but he flashes me a small, hesitant smile as he makes his way out of the bathroom and back into his suite. I start to put together the pieces on this. “Look, I get being a little worried. In fact, it says a lot about your character that you are hyper-conscious after what this woman has accused you of. But, dude, I signed an NDA the size ofWar and Peace. Also, don't forget I made out with Waiter Gabriel, and if I was in this to screw you over, I would have done it then."
"Instead you ran away," Gabriel mutters but flashes me another smile like he's joking, but his eyes say he isn’t.
“I told you then I was in a bad place,” I remind him. “I made a bad decision.”
He stops as he’s pulling up his pants, which he retrieved from the floor. He tips his head to look over his shoulder at me. “You regret not contacting me?”
“Yes.” The word leaves my mouth without a moment’s hesitation. If I hadn’t been such a timid bitch about the whole thing, I wouldn’t have gotten back together with Eric. Maybe I would have been with Gabriel this whole time. Maybe I’d still own my damn company. But I’m not about to admit any of that to him. This isn’t… it’s not real at the moment and all of that is way too honest for a fake arrangement. So instead I walk over, tug on my own pants, and grab his jaw, pressing my lips to his. “I especially regret it now that I know what I was missing.”
“You ain’t seen nothing yet,” Gabriel whispers against my lips.
And just as our second kiss starts to deepen there’s a knock on the door. It’s soft and faint, but it startles us both and we pull apart. Gabriel’s eyes flash with something that looks a bit like both guilt and recognition. “Oh fuck.”
“Oh fuck?”
He walks over to the door, holding up a finger at me as if to say 'just a sec'. He cracks the door, barely. "Hey. I forgot to text. This isn't a good night."
“Really? But we…”
“Sorry,” he cuts off the confused female voice. “I can’t tonight. Right now. I’ve got… a lot going on.”
