"Protection." He rubbed his thumb over her inner thigh. "I don't suppose you bought some?"
Her flustered expression changed, her face falling. "No."
If Gabriel had been aroused before, her obvious disappointment shoved it through the roof. Squeezing her thigh to her little jump, he said, "Good thing I'm a Boy Scout."
She shifted in his lap to angle her body toward him, but instead of pleasure, he was faced with a scowl. "Oh? You always carry around protection?" The tiny vertical lines between her eyebrows grew deeper. "For all those women you made me send flowers to?"
Gabriel didn't have to think about his answer. "I haven't fucked anyone since the day we met."
Her eyes went wide, her throat moving as she swallowed.
"At first," he continued, "you were a mouse, and I don't like mice, but I liked you. Because I could see the clawing tigress underneath." He nipped at her chin. "By the time work let up enough that I could think about women, the mouse had been replaced by the tigress, and I knew I only wanted a bite out of you, no one else."
The scowl returned. "Why did you have me make dinner dates for you?" She pushed at his shoulders. "Send the flowers?"
He nipped again, got another push. "I was trying to make you jealous, Ms. Baird. But off you went, merrily calling restaurants and choosing roses, stabbing me in the heart each time."
Scowl altering into an expression that was slightly uncertain, she smoothed her palms over his shoulders. "Did it really? Hurt your feelings?"
Gabriel had been teasing her to ease the mood, but faced with her honest question, he found himself saying, "Yeah." It had burned when she showed not even a hint of temper, at least not at the start. "I wanted you until you were all I could think about, and you didn't care."
Charlotte's face went soft and intense at the same time. "I cared." Her lashes came down to hide the look in her eyes. "That's why I always ordered the end-of-the-day leftover red roses," she admitted with a peek through her lashes. "So your dates would think you were a cheapskate."
Warmth uncurled in his gut. "Is that also why we always ended up in restaurants with abysmal chefs?" He'd thought the city's cuisine was going to shit.
A shamefaced look, but there was a glint of mischief to her. "I used to stay up nights, scanning the reviews for city restaurants and making sure to book you into places where there'd been complaints. I even kept track of which days got the worst reviews, so I'd know when the bad chef was on."
His shoulders shook, laughter in every cell of his body. "Your mind is so fucking sexy." One arm around her waist and hand still curved over her thigh, he kissed her. Hot and dark and raw. He knew she could handle it; she'd taken it in the office, showed him she liked it.
Moaning in the back of her throat, she wrapped her arms around his neck and sank into the kiss. He groaned, settled in to devour her. He hadn't been teasing--he had condoms in his briefcase. He'd been carrying the box around for a while. As with the bracelet, the goal-oriented part of his nature liked the physical symbol of his pursuit of Charlotte, despite the fact the box had driven him half-mad each time he glimpsed it.
When he removed his hand from between her thighs, she made a sound of complaint. His cock liked that. "Don't worry, Ms. Baird," he said, turned on impossibly more by how open she was about her desire once she forgot to be shy. "I just want you to straddle me."
Her cheeks went deep pink. "You really want to... here?" she whispered, her glasses fogged up.
"Yes, I really want to," he said, plucking the glasses off to put them on the table within easy reach. "Here." It was a risk, given what she'd suffered in this room, but if he could keep her mind on the sex, then maybe they could manage to make a memory that would be hotter, more vivid, than that of the horror that underlay her determined enjoyment of her kitchen. "Take off your panties too."
Her breath caught.
But he knew his Charlotte. She was stronger than she believed herself to be. Getting up, her eyes bright, she did as he'd asked. The panties were black lace, and from her shy half smile as she dropped them on the table, he knew she'd worn them for him. "Back here, now," he said, so aroused he was having trouble thinking.
Her sweet, sexy weight came down on his thighs seconds later as she straddled him.
He shuddered, stroking his hands up her thighs and taking her dress with him. "Lean back against the table." There was just enough space that her body would be slightly angled.
Charlotte did as he asked. "Why do I like this?"
Catching the seriousness of the murmured question, he looked up, met her gaze. "What?"
"Listening to you when we're like this." She undid one of his shirt buttons, another, and slid her hands inside. "I don't let you boss me around otherwise."
Drinking in the feel of her exploring him, he continued his interrupted action to bunch up her dress at her waist, baring her to his greedy gaze. She whimpered but didn't try to cover herself.
"We like what we like," he said on a harsh groan, his mouth watering at the sight of her; the fine golden curls at the apex of her thighs barely hid anything.
When he put his hands on her waist and lifted her onto the table after nudging her glasses aside, she gasped. "Gabriel?"
He pressed a kiss to one thigh. "Undo those tiny buttons down your front. Show me your breasts."
Her hands rose to the buttons, but a heartbeat later, the nervous excitement on her face turned into plain nerves.
"No?" Never would he take what she didn't want to give.
"I have scars," she whispered. "On my breasts."
Rage boiled in him at the reminder of the bastard who'd hurt her, but he wasn't about to allow Richard into this room again--or into Gabriel's loving with Charlotte.
"I have a jagged scar on my shoulder from a broken collarbone that tore the skin, more than a few others from on-field hits," he said. "A player's boot once came down on my ribs hard enough to peel off multiple layers of skin, and I've bled from more than one cut."
"That player who broke your collarbone should've been banned." A fierce statement. "I don't understand how he just got a suspension."
Smiling, he pressed his lips to her inner thigh again, felt her breath catch. "You kiss my scars and I'll kiss yours. Fair?"
"Fair," she whispered and, lifting her hands to her bodice, began to slip those tiny, tempting buttons out of their holes. He watched as each sweet inch of flesh was revealed, his hands tightening on her thighs.
"That's it, sweetheart," he murmured as the black lace of her bra came into view, the scalloped edge an erotic contrast to the paleness of her skin there. The scars were white and slightly raised, and they told him Charlotte was a fighter. He would see only her in them, he vowed, never the psychopath who'd hurt her. And what he saw was a woman who made him want to devour her.
Charlotte's fingers trembled. "When you look at me like that," she said, "I want to do everything you ask me."
"Good." He kissed her other thigh. "I have all kinds of ideas about debauching you."
She shivered. "I love the things you say." Having undone the final button, she reached up and pushed off the wide straps of her dress, baring one rounded shoulder, then the other.
The spicy, warm scent of her arousal made his hunger voracious, but he kept vicious control on himself--watching Charlotte be this confident was beautiful. In front of him, she dropped her arms and let the straps fall off her wrists. Her plump breasts were cupped in that pretty black lace she'd worn for him, the straps made of the same material.
"Should I..." She raised her fingers to the bra straps.
Pulling her closer, he said, "Bend down to me."
Charlotte's hands landed on his shoulders. He wanted to grip her nape, hold her in position, but that, he'd figured out, was what had triggered her last panic attack. In the meantime, he'd enjoy how she held him that way when they kissed, so unmistakably possessive.
Tasting her lips, he licked his tongue over hers before kissing a path down her luscious
ly sensitive throat. "You taste like my woman," he said as she moaned.
Leaving the bra in place, he kissed his way over the delicate lace and even more delicate skin to suck the taut pink tip of her nipple into his mouth. She cried out, her hands locking in his hair. Gripping one pebbled nipple between his teeth, he tugged, and it wasn't exactly gentle. Her whimper was no complaint. When she inched closer, her scent wafted to his nose, made his nostrils flare, his instincts buck at the reins.
Releasing her nipple, he placed his hand on her stomach and pressed. She moved back, her arms sliding from around his neck, but he felt a resistance in her abdominal muscles when he would've nudged her flat onto her back. He removed his hand, happy to have her seated with her hands braced behind her if that made her feel safer, more in control.
Pushing up her dress again, he used his body to keep her thighs spread and one hand to keep the fabric from sliding back down. "My pretty Charlotte." He ran a finger down the center of her pussy, felt his cock jerk in his pants at the slickness he found. Her hot little moan erased any doubts he might've had that she was enjoying this.
"Hold the dress, Ms. Baird."
The instant she obeyed, he slid one hand around to splay on the bare skin of her lower back, stroked one of her thighs over his shoulder, and leaned down to gorge on the delicious woman in his arms.
Fuck, she tasted good.
Her cries were shocked and soft, almost secret, but she didn't push him away. One hand came back to fist in his hair, her body rewarding each lick and suck with honey slickness. When he scraped his teeth over her, she shuddered, her fingers tightening in his hair. Yeah, Charlotte could take him.
Licking away the erotic hurt, he ran one palm along her silky-soft inner thigh. "I'm going to use my fingers on you," he said, looking up to find her giving a dazed nod. "I'm a big guy." Thumb on her clit, he circled the rough pad of his index finger at her core.
Her lips parted on another one of those quiet, secret cries that went straight to his cock.
"I," he said, nudging his finger just inside, "have to"--he rubbed her clit--"make sure"--a flick with his thumb that had her shuddering--"you can take me." He thrust his finger home.
Her back arched, her breasts gorgeously displayed. "Gabriel." A husky, breathless whimper. "That's... a very thick finger."
Smiling, he pressed a kiss to her navel. "It's a clever one too." Returning to her pussy, he put both his finger and his tongue to good use until she was squirming against him, begging for release in soft gasps that made him want to growl like a damn beast and fuck her stupid, just ram into her until she forgot her own name.
Raising his head instead, he took both of her hands and put them on his shoulders, then eased her trembling thigh down from his shoulder. Lips parted and kiss-swollen, pupils dilated against the hazel of her irises, Charlotte watched him as he moved his own hands down to undo his belt, lower the zipper.
"Get the condoms," he said, wanting to make dead sure she hadn't changed her mind, was with him.
Her pulse skittered in her neck, but she turned to reach for the briefcase he'd left on another chair, one of her bra straps falling down her arm as she did so. He loved how thoroughly used she already looked, all mussed and flushed and with red marks on her inner thighs from his stubble.
While she opened the briefcase, he kept himself busy by releasing his cock.
"Where are they?" A husky question.
"Inside pocket, left side." Having given that instruction, he spread her thighs wider and suckled a kiss on the sensitive skin beside her knee while running his finger through her slickness again. Plump and wet and his, she was fucking beautiful.
Her nails dug into his shoulder. "Gabriel." It was a moan.
"Condoms." Biting at the taut flesh of her thigh, he licked, looked up to find her clutching the box in her hand.
He took it from her, then drew in her hand and tucked it between her thighs. "Keep yourself wet for me."
A choked half laugh. "I don't think I could be any more ready than I already am."
"Not ready, Ms. Baird." Tearing the box apart, he scattered flat packets all over her kitchen floor. "Deliciously wet, slick and honey sweet. Say it."
"I'm...." She licked her lips.
That was it.
Having sheathed himself during the course of her hesitation, he pulled her forward and onto his lap but held her above him. No way was he just ramming into her like he'd imagined--that would come later, when Charlotte was ready to handle the rougher side of his sexuality. Right now, it was about teaching her that his touch meant pleasure. No matter how gentle he was, or how rough, he'd always, always give her pleasure, never pain.
"Put your arms around my neck." Sliding his hands down to cup her ass after she obeyed his order, her fingers curling into his hair, he rubbed the blunt tip of his cock against her opening. "Control how much of my cock you take," he gritted out, his body ready to pump into her.
"Gabriel, may I please have a kiss?"
Hearing the vulnerability, he immediately lifted his face to hers, their mouths meeting in a sinful, hot, Charlotte kiss. He let her take what she needed, his hands cupping and squeezing the lush curves of her. Charlotte might be small, but she was built in sweet, curvy proportion. "Better?" he asked when she broke the kiss, one hand on the side of his neck, the other still in his hair.
"Yes." A quiet word, their breaths intermingled. Then, eyes locked with his, she sank down an inch onto him. The hitch in her breath mingled with his groan. When she said, "More," he almost lost it.
Deliberately reciting rugby statistics in his head, he said, "Ask me to fuck you, Charlotte."
Her chest rose in a ragged inhale. "I can't."
"Yes, you can," he coaxed. "I know you know bad words. All good girls do."
She sank another inch onto him, her eyes fluttering shut. "I don't know how to talk that way in bed."
The shy confession blew the statistics out of the water. "Do it with me," he said, pulling out all the way by lifting her off him, then teasing her with his eager cock. "Say 'Fuck me, Gabriel.'" The idea of those words falling from her lips shredded his remaining control. The only reason he didn't snap was because the need to protect her was stronger than his lust, stronger than anything.
Charlotte sank down on him without warning, taking a couple of inches before he could stop her. As she cried out at the pressure, he locked his spine against the searing pleasure of her scalding grip. "Naughty, Ms. Baird." Sweat stuck his shirt to his back. "Three words and you can have what you want. All of it." He lifted her off him again, to her frustrated cry.
Bringing her back down, he pushed into her slowly, lifting her off at the halfway mark. It was self-inflicted torture and it was amazing. "You are so tiny, Charlotte." It fucking turned him on how easily he could handle her, position her. "Am I hurting you?" Because the handling was only fun if she was with him.
"No," she whispered and pressed her cheek to the stubbled roughness of his own. "Fuck me, Gabriel."
Oh Jesus!
Gritting his teeth against the impact of that breathy request, he gave her control again. "As slow or as fast as you want." He had no doubts she could take him, but he had to be gentle until she was used to his size. He figured it'd be easier for her to take the reins this time--but Charlotte kind of froze on him when he said the words.
He immediately put his hands back on her, realizing his sexy Ms. Baird wasn't yet confident enough to take him up on his offer. "Then again"--he sucked on the skin above her pulse, hard enough to leave a mark and make her groan--"I do like being the boss."
More kisses to coax her to melting softness against him once more. "But you'll tell me if it hurts. Understood?"
A nod against him, her body quivering.
Gripping her under her thigh with one hand to give her extra support, he pinched her clit between the thumb and forefinger of his other hand. She cried out, sank deeper on him. His cock ached, his entire body burning up from the inside, but there wa
s no way he was messing this up. Circling his thumb around the slippery nub he'd pinched, he let her take him at her own pace.
The final inches made her shudder, her flesh so tightly stretched around his girth that when he ran his finger around the tightness, she gave a little scream and came in hard pulses that threatened to milk him dry.
He had no idea how he managed to last until the erotic ripples of her body eased enough that he could lift her off him, then bring her back down as he thrust into her. It was harder than he'd intended, but Charlotte just held on tighter, her breaths hot against his ear. "Gabriel, please. Gabriel."
"I've got you." He lifted her again, thrust in deeper and faster. "I've got you." A final stroke before his balls drew up against his body, his muscles locked in an orgasm that punched through him harder than the hardest tackle he'd ever taken on the field.
30
Dirty Talk with a T-Rex
Charlotte wasn't quite sure how she'd ended up lying on top of Gabriel's bare chest on the sofa, the bodice of her dress mostly buttoned, but it was so very nice and warm and wonderful that she just snuggled in. Eyes heavy, she pressed a kiss to the skin under her and ran her hand down his lightly furred chest, stopping to trace the intricate lines of the tattoo that covered his pectoral muscle. "This is so beautiful."
"I think the word you're looking for is manly." A rumble of sound under her, Gabriel's hand on her bare butt.
Smiling, she kissed him again, licked up the taste of salt on his skin.
"Did it work?"
Nuzzling at him, she ran her foot down his leg--which was half-hanging off the end of the sofa--and frowned at the feel of fabric under her. "You didn't take off your pants." That seemed vaguely dirty, that he'd... fucked her without taking off his pants.
"If I take off my pants, I'll be inside you again in about ten seconds."
Skin tingling, she rubbed her cheek against him. "I won't mind." He'd felt so good inside her, so hard and thick and hot. But he'd felt even better around her, warm and big and protective.
Gabriel petted her ass, unabashed in his enjoyment of her body. "So it worked."
This time she understood. "Yes." The scars had been well and truly cut out. "I really like being with you."