Gabriel’s Inferno Trilogy by Sylvain Reynard Page 0,304

you’re saying no, just tell me.”

He gave her a very wide, very delighted grin. “I’d never say no to you, Miss Mitchell.”

“Good. Give me five minutes, Professor Emerson.”

He sank down on his back, his feet still on the floor. Julia’s newfound confidence was absolutely enticing. In a single sentence, she’d aroused him so much that he was already suffering.

It seemed like forever, but it was really only a few minutes later when Julia emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in his Christmas gift. The black satin fabric accentuated the pink and cream of her skin, while the corset itself made her breasts look fuller and her waist smaller. Gabriel couldn’t help but admire the exquisite hourglass that was Julia’s now transformed figure.

His eyes hungrily regarded the merest glimpse of black lace panties, paired with black-silk stockings that were held up by a garter belt. Finally and gloriously, a pair of black pumps decorated her feet.

Gabriel nearly had a heart attack when he gazed at the shoes alone.

“Bonsoir, Professeur. Vous allez bien?” Julia purred.

It took a moment for him to figure out why she’d made this linguistic choice, so taken as he was by her figure and her footwear.

Julia was wearing his beret.

When his eyes finally met hers, she watched him swallow hard. She pouted at him provocatively and removed her hat, tossing it at him. After he threw it aside, she walked slowly, very slowly, to the bed.

“I really like my Christmas present, Professor.”

Gabriel gulped, at a loss for words.

“Have you seen the back?” She pivoted her hips, watching him over her shoulder.

He reached out a finger to touch the laces that tied the corset, dragging his hand down to the panties that cut across her pert backside.

“Enough teasing, Miss Mitchell. Come here.” He pulled her to him, bringing their mouths together in a forceful kiss.

“I’m going to take my time unwrapping my gift—with the exception of the shoes. I hope for your sake they’re comfortable.”

After ten minutes of knocking on the door, the room service waiter had to take their dinner back to the kitchen and await further instructions.

The instructions never came.

* * *

Long after midnight, beautiful music hung in the air from Gabriel’s new playlist, including songs by Sarah McLachlan, Sting, and Matthew Barber. Julia was lying on her stomach amidst a tangle of linen sheets, drowsy and satisfied. Her back was exposed down to the two dimples that rested above the curve of her backside.

Gabriel had artfully placed part of the sheet over her bottom and retrieved his camera. He stood by the bed, snapping picture after picture until she yawned and stretched, like a sleepy cat.

“You’re exquisite,” he said, placing the camera to one side so he could sit by her.

She looked up with wide, happy eyes as he began running his long fingers down her spine, then gave a rueful smile. “When you love something, you don’t see its flaws.”

“That’s true, I suppose. But you’re beautiful.”

She shifted so she could see him better, hugging her arms around a pillow. “Love makes things beautiful.”

A familiar tightness spread across Gabriel’s lips. His hand stilled on her lower back, just over the dimples.

She read the unspoken question in his eyes. “Yes, Gabriel, you’re beautiful to me. The more I know you, the more I see who you really are and the more beautiful you become.”

He kissed her, the light, appreciative kiss of a teenage suitor, and ran his fingers through her long, brown hair. “Thank you. You’re hungry, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

He looked over at the door. “I think we missed our dinner because we were feasting on—ah—other things.”

“And what a feast it was, Professor. At least there’s a fruit basket.”

She sat up, wrapping the sheet around her torso, while he walked over to the large basket that was sitting on the coffee table. He found a Swiss army knife in the kitchenette, made an adjustment to the music, and brought a mango with him to bed.

“I needed to match the song to the fruit,” he said, his blue eyes sparkling. “Now lie back.”

She felt her heart rate begin to increase.

“You don’t need this.” Boldly, he pulled the sheet away. Now they were both naked.

“Who’s singing?”

“Bruce Cockburn.”

He began cutting the mango slowly, his eyes exploring Julia’s body.

She gave him a quizzical look. “Naked lunch?”

“More like a naked midnight snack.”

With deft fingers he cut a small slice of the fruit, juice dripping from his hands and onto her abdomen. She arched an eyebrow.

“Hmmm.” He peered at the juice with an impish expression.