Mr. Smithfield - Louise Bay Page 0,54

come.”

I tried to keep control over my breath as he spoke, but it was no easy feat. He was right. I’d been so wound up all evening. So desperate for him. Now that he was touching me, I was already so close to the orgasm I’d been imagining getting all evening.

In a flash he let go of me, took his hand away, and stepped back, shoving his hands in his pockets. I stayed pinned against the door, unable to function. My disappointment at his lost touch felt like a chasm opening in my chest.

He pulled out a foil square and in record time, had his pants open, the condom on, and my leg around his waist. “This what you need?” he asked as he thrust into me.

It was exactly what I needed, and I exhaled with relief at having him inside me finally. “Yes,” I choked out. “It’s all I need.” I held onto him, clinging to his thick, muscular arms as he pounded into me, just as I’d hoped he would.

He fucked me with hard, deliberate, achingly deep movements, and I could do nothing but let him. Nothing but give myself up to him. I’d spent the evening wondering how I was going to seduce him, but I should have known that seduction wasn’t necessary when it came to Gabriel. He knew what he wanted and he took it, and I was happy to let him.

“I’ve been thinking about this all night. I’ve been imagining all the ways I’m going to fuck you,” he said between heavy breaths. “First it’s going to be like this up against the door. Then I’m going to go down on you and make you scream. Then I’m going to fuck your mouth. And you’re going to come and come and come.”

It was too much. His words. The friction. The feeling of being impaled on him, my back against the hard wood of the door. “Gabriel,” I cried out.

“That’s right,” he said, his voice softening, his pace slowing but not stopping as I shuddered against him.

He lifted me up as I floated down from my climax, and I pulled him closer. I wanted to stay like this for as long as possible—him and me, joined. Connected. Together. In every way.

“You okay?” he asked as he sat me on the kitchen table and began to undress me and then himself. His cock stood thick and upright against his belly, and my eyes trailed up to its crown, to his flat stomach, his hard chest, his wide shoulders, and that oh-so-beautiful face.

I nodded.

“You seem . . . a little sad.”

I shook my head. “I’m not sad at all.” I paused. My instinct was to hold back. To keep things sunny and light. But the fact was, he seemed to like to hear everything about me. The good and the bad. And I wanted him to know how I felt about him. I wanted to be real with him. “I really like you, Gabriel,” I said. It was important he knew that. Important that he understood this wasn’t just about the sexual chemistry. It wasn’t just about the way he was wise and caring. It wasn’t any one thing. It was everything.

He paused and looked at me as I sat naked on the table in front of him and cupped my face. “I really like you too.” He stroked his thumb over my cheekbone. “More and more.”

I tilted my head into his hand, and he bent to press his lips against mine. If whatever we had was growing stronger as time went on, then how was I going to feel when August arrived, fresh with its invitation to travel? Would my wanderlust fade, burrow itself beneath my feelings for Gabriel? We had just over a month before I’d be gone. And then what?

Before I could drown in what-ifs, Gabriel’s insistent tongue and urgent lips worked their way down my neck, between my breasts and over my belly. Roughly, he pulled my legs apart and kneeled before he buried his head between my thighs. He was impatient and greedy, and he made me feel as if I were the most valuable prize he could ever wish for.

His tongue soothed me at first, long, languid, slow strokes that calmed my pulsing clitoris and gave me a chance to revel in his desire for me. I sighed and his tongue grew firmer and more insistent, ratcheting up my yearning for more of him. He knew, and began to circle and