Gabriel’s Inferno Trilogy by Sylvain Reynard Page 0,475

hurt me?”

“Absolutely not. Who do you think I am?”

“I think you’re my husband and I think you need to fuck your bad mood away. So let’s go.”

His mouth dropped open.

When he’d collected himself, his expression grew harsh. “I don’t fuck you, Julianne.”

“No, you’d rather I were someone else so you could.”

His eyes flashed. “That is not true. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, yes, I do. You didn’t touch me when we went to bed. I needed you but you said no.” She stretched her arms wide. “Don’t you understand? What you crave, I need. Help me forget I’m about to lose the only sibling I’ve ever had. Please.”

He was torn. It was telegraphed in the way his eyes bore into hers and the eagerness that radiated from his skin.

On impulse, Julia wrapped an arm around his back and placed her other in his hair. She tugged his mouth toward hers and kissed him deeply.

He responded quickly, wrapping her legs around his hips. Soon he was controlling their kiss; his tongue in her mouth, insistent and urgent.

“Take me to bed,” she begged, when he finally drew breath.

“We aren’t going to use the bed.”

With a dangerous look, he carried her into the bedroom.

Gabriel didn’t bother with lamps or music before he pressed her against the nearest wall. A distant light from the open door to the bathroom lightened the dark bedroom to gray.

Her legs tightened around his hips as he pulled off her robe. The silk sank to the floor.

He placed two fingers in his mouth, wetting them, before reaching down to pet between her legs. She moaned and pressed against his hand. His touching grew more desperate.

“Are you afraid?” He brought his lips to her ear.

“No.” She wound her fingers in his hair, pulling his mouth to hers.

He explored her with his tongue, licking at her lips and thrusting inside. His hand slid around to cup her backside, pulling her against him.

“Watch,” he rasped, fluttering his mouth along her neck.

“Watch what?”

“Us. In the mirror.”

Julia opened her eyes and saw the mirror mounted on the wall on the other side of the room. Somehow, it was perfectly positioned to reflect her husband’s magnificent and naked back and the dark-haired woman who was hidden by his body.

“I want you to see what I see when you come.”

Gabriel trailed kisses up and down her neck before rubbing his stubble against her chest. He cupped her breast in his hand, worshipping each one with his mouth. Licking and nipping and sucking.

He dropped a hand between her legs again and, using deliberate strokes, petted her as his mouth closed over a rosy peak.

Julia tried very hard to keep her eyes open, but it was difficult. His tongue teased her flesh, his lips tugging and pulling.

She’d never seen what they looked like together. His body long and lean, hers smaller and softer. Their skin had different tones—he was darker while she was fair.

Gabriel lavished her with single-minded attention. As if he were a dying man and this was his last assignation. Her very flesh nearly melted from the heat of his touch.

His focus caused the world to fall away, as it always did in those moments, his probing fingers and impatient erection brushing between her legs.

“I need you,” she murmured, pulling back so she could see him. She was clutching his shoulders, almost climbing him.

“I need you to come first. Eyes on the mirror.”

He continued to pet her, resisting the urge to speed despite her desperate movements.

Without warning, her rosy lips parted and she gasped, her gaze fixed on their reflection.

Then with a single, deep thrust he was inside her.

She saw her eyes widen, her fingers tighten their grip on his shoulders. She saw his strong hips and lean, beautiful backside moving apace, pushing into her again and again.

She groaned, eyes closing.

“I told you to watch,” he growled, nipping her ear.

Her eyes opened and she saw him glaring at her.

She turned to look at the mirror. He kept up his rhythm, moving and thrusting.

Sighs and moans escaped her lips as his pace increased. And still, she did not look away.

“This isn’t fucking,” he whispered. “Look at me.”

Her eyes fled the mirror and met his. The sapphire blue of his irises was barely visible against the wide, black pupils.

“This isn’t fucking. It’s a hell of a lot more.”

His breathing stuttered as he thrust, his pace suddenly uneven.

“Always.” She began panting, her exhalations matching his rhythm.

He opened his mouth to say something, but at that moment, she