Mr. Smithfield - Louise Bay Page 0,26

hand, imagining how she’d feel under my fingers, between my teeth, and surrounding my cock.

“Show me.”

She held my gaze and without looking away, she undid her trousers and pulled them down over her bottom.

I tensed my jaw as she held her underwear away from her, giving me space to see her sweet pussy.

“I’m not sure that’s quite wet enough,” I said, pushing my fingers into her underwear and between her folds.

“Oh God,” she said, unsteady on her feet, grasping at my arms.

I leaned her back onto the table as I explored her. Christ, I couldn’t wait to taste her. Couldn’t wait to coat my cock in her soaked pussy.

With my free hand, I pushed off her underwear as I worked around her clit, stroking and pushing before delving into her with two fingers.

“Shit,” she cried out, and I put my mouth on hers to cover her sounds. I curled my fingers into her, pushing and pulling, circling and pressing, trying to take some of the heat out of my cock, trying to calm myself as much as satisfy her. “Gabriel. I’m. Stop. Gabriel. You’re going to make me come.”

I stilled. “You want me to stop?” I asked, smirking at her. I knew the answer, but I was going to make her say it.

She couldn’t catch her breath. “No. Well, yes. I’m going to come so quickly if you don’t.”

I pushed back into her, feeling her tense around me. “I know,” I whispered. “And you’ve wanted this for so long, haven’t you?” I asked, stroking her between her folds, around her clit, delving deep. “You’ve wanted me to feel you, to touch you like this, to make you come?”

“Yes, Gabriel.” Her confession brought her to the brink, and she began to shudder. I slid my free hand over her mouth to muffle her cries and I held her gently as she floated down, free of weeks of pent-up frustration.

Her cries had only ratcheted up my need and I pulled off my t-shirt, wiping my hand on it before discarding it and working on my jeans.

“Well, that should be illegal,” she said, hazy-eyed and pointing at my chest.

“What?” I glanced down.

“You know. All the muscles and stuff. I’ve never even seen you work out.”

“It’s all the manual labor,” I replied. She laughed but I wasn’t joking. The planing and polishing. The lifting and sanding. It was all the exercise anyone needed.

“This is my favorite outfit you have,” she said, unbuttoning her blouse like we were in a race to see who could undress first.

Her confession made me grin. I liked the idea that she noticed what I wore, noticed my body. Why did she like it?

“You only wear it when you’re about to disappear into your secret dungeon.” She shrugged off her top and started untangling her trousers from where they’d pooled around her ankles.

I paused before pulling off my jeans. “My what?” With a nod of her head, she indicated the door of my workshop. “My workshop?”

“What do you do in there?”

“Stuff you do in a workshop,” I said. She stood before me in just her underwear. “God, you’re beautiful, Autumn. So bloody beautiful.”

She reached for me and pulled at my neck and I dipped to kiss her. There was no going back now. I was careering down a one-way street with no way out. I’d vowed never to touch another woman after Penelope left. And of all the people I broke that vow for, it shouldn’t have been for a woman who was so much younger, was my best friend’s future sister-in-law and my daughter’s nanny. But this pull I had toward Autumn was stronger than every objection that existed.

“Turn around and bend over,” I said. I wanted to see her beautiful skin against the rough oak of the table. The oak I’d sanded and oiled and given new life to. I wanted every part of me to possess her. She lay forward, the dark strands of her hair falling onto the wood as if she were wrapping herself over it.

She looked like a goddess. I kneeled, peeling her underwear off and down her legs, catching a glimpse of her plump, reddened pussy, shimmering for me. “Beautiful,” I said, admiring her, pushing my thumb inside her. Unable to be so close without having a taste, I leaned forward and pressed my tongue against her.

Her nails scraped against the wood and her knees buckled. She was sweet—like amber honey— and her pussy quivered on my tongue like it was so close