“Hold onto me,” he instructed in a husky whisper.
I put my arms around his neck and lifted myself up. Pillowing my breasts against his chest, I buried my face in his massive shoulder. Any sense of control I may have had, or thought I had, vanished. My body gave itself over to him, responding to every erotically whispered directive with an eagerness that stunned me.
Stretched to the limit, my flesh wrapped itself around his thick cock, wanting to make up for lost time. Gripping him with muscles hungry to be used, I pulled him further inside me, delighting in the friction as he pulled back before thrusting forward again. I could feel a mild burn along the inside of my thighs as they held him, but I paid it no attention, too focused on the unknown force building within me. A tidal wave was forming, one that danced the fine line between pleasure and pain so exquisitely I couldn’t tell which was which.
“I’m sorry,” Gabriel apologized, his voice hoarse and ragged. “I can’t stop . . .”
He had one arm around my waist, the other bracing himself against the mattress as he drove into me.
“It’s all right,” I gasped back at him. “Just don’t let me go!”
His arm tightened as he threw back his head, the cords in his neck straining, his body becoming as tight as a drum before exploding in a hot rush that took me with him. At the point of our release, as pain and pleasure washed through me in a golden torrent that expanded every muscle along my pelvis, hips, and thighs, I dug my nails into the back of his neck, bared my teeth and—God help me—I bit him.
His blood flowed over my tongue, flooding my mouth with a hot sweetness that quickly changed to an exotic sizzle beneath the thick, syrupy coating. And as it hit the back of my throat, there came an explosion of peppery heat, a kick that told me—I had tasted this before. Then my nose was flooded with the scent of pine trees and snow.
It was the most amazing thing I have ever done.
And it felt so right.
CHAPTER 20
Sanity hit me up the side of the head with a figurative sledgehammer.
What the hell are you doing?
The inside of my mouth was on fire, but the sensation wasn’t in the least bit unpleasant. It felt how I imagined a sip of the world’s best bourbon would taste—smooth as silk, with one hell of a kick. But I don’t imagine it would be imbibed in quite the same way.
Closing my eyes, I swallowed, trying to wash down the taste in my mouth with saliva. Through a tangle of lashes I saw the circle of marks my teeth had left just below Gabriel’s collarbone. I turned my head into the pillow, too ashamed to look him in the eye and totally humiliated by my bizarre behavior.
He was throbbing inside me, his presence an erotic violation on a scale that couldn’t be measured. The ferocity of our passion had lessened, reducing itself to an aching soreness that was made acute by the position of our bodies. Embracing him between my legs, balancing his weight on my hips and lower back was a strange and slightly claustrophobic sensation. Releasing his hold around my waist, Gabriel propped himself up on both arms, his shoulders rolling as he moved.
“I’m so sorry,” I mumbled, trying desperately to hide in the pillow. “I don’t know what came over me.”
Catching my chin with his fingers, Gabriel turned my head back to face him, waiting until I had no choice but to look up at him.
“You have nothing to apologize for,” he said solemnly, as a fierce light shone from his eyes. “I am yours to do with as you will.”
I knew, as sure as my middle name is Marie, that I had heard him say those words to me before. I just couldn’t remember when or where. His lips brushed mine lightly before he swept the hair back from my face. My legs more or less fell of their own accord from around his hips, making me wince as the pressure inside me shifted.
“Hold still,” he said in a low voice.
I groaned as he pulled out of me. The sudden lift of his body created an unexpected shock that made me want to lock my knees together and curl into a ball until the ache went away. I was also filled with the strange urge to throttle every writer of romantic fiction who failed to mention that losing your virginity involved pain. However, in all fairness, the fault may have been more Gabriel’s than mine. He was definitely bigger than any other man I’d ever seen with his pants off.
“Stay where you are,” he ordered gruffly, throwing back the covers.
Where did he think I was going to go? Down to the One-Stop Mart at the gas station to buy a quart of milk? A giggle unexpectedly bubbled at the thought, and then the scent of something delicious tickled my nose. I put my hand out, making Gabriel turn back to me. As he leaned down to kiss me, I inhaled the fragrance coming from his body. My immediate thought was cologne or aftershave, perhaps body wash, but a second, deeper inhalation, told me I was wrong. This wasn’t something that lay on the surface of his skin; this came from within. And I knew exactly what it was.
“Your blood . . . ,” I said with what I knew had to be a look of amazement on my face.
Gabriel’s expression changed to one of wariness. Had I just committed some massive blunder, the kind of thing that might have started a war a couple of hundred years ago?
“What about my blood?” he asked guardedly.
“That’s what I smell.”
“You can smell my blood?” He raised his eyebrows and looked . . . amazed.
I nodded and grinned. “I’m no expert, but I always thought all blood had the same smell, sort of coppery and salty like an old penny.” My nostrils flared again. “Yours doesn’t smell like that; it smells fantastic. It reminds me of winter, like I’m in the middle of a pine forest, but so much better. And there’s something else,” I gushed, “something I feel I should know, only I can’t remember.” I felt myself blushing. Just how unhinged did I want him to think I actually was?
“Imagine that,” he said, bending down and kissing me gently on the mouth, all signs of his earlier unease gone. I swear he was glowing.
With my fingers I traced the outline of the bite mark on his skin. I still had no idea what had provoked me into doing such a thing. “I hope it doesn’t leave a scar,” I told him.
Taking my hand, Gabriel pressed it against his chest, against his heart, and said solemnly, “I hope it does.”
I watched as he got up and went out of the room, enjoying the spectacular view of his ass, which, like the rest of him, was stunningly perfect.
Lying back, I could feel a warm stickiness on my thighs. Gingerly I wiped my skin, smearing my fingers with a bloody, milky fluid. Semen mixed with the proof of my virginity. I didn’t want to see just how much was down there. It felt like a quart at the very least.
I closed my eyes and heard the soothing sound of running water coming from the bathroom. Drifting, I was headed for some post-coital land of bliss when I felt Gabriel touch me. His wet hair, along with the fragrance of my body wash clinging to his damp skin, told me what he’d been doing. Before I could utter a syllable in protest, he scooped me up in his arms and carried me to the bathroom, where the shower was still running. Setting me carefully on my feet inside the tub, he got in behind me, pulling my shower curtain closed. It was going to have to be replaced, I decided. Yellow ducks seemed completely inappropriate for post-sex showers.
“Can you stand?” Gabriel asked, his voice in my ear.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” I braced my hands against the fiberglass wall in front of me. As long as my knees were locked, I was good to go. I let the water do its job, sluicing the excess fluid off my thighs before I carefully turned around and looked at him. He took up a whole lot more of my shower than my bed.
I couldn’t help noticing the questioning look on Gabriel’s face as he reached around me for the bottle of body wash. He seemed determined to treat me as if I was made of fine crystal, and I decided to enjoy the attention while it lasted. I splayed my hands against the smooth hardness of his chest and leaned against him.
Not bothering with a sponge, Gabriel tipped the pomegranate-mango-sce
nted liquid into his palm, working it up into a rich lather. Caressing my skin, he soaped me up and down, tenderly wiping away whatever evidence still remained of our lovemaking and, with it, the last remnants of the girl I had once been. He took the most exquisite care with me.
Kissing me lightly, he turned me back around so he could finish his task. I felt him pause when his fingers brushed lightly over the marking in the small of my back.
“You have a tattoo.” He sounded surprised, as if completely taken aback by the inking. It was obviously something he hadn’t expected to see.
I tilted my head, wondering if it was going to be a problem. “A lot of girls have them,” I muttered defensively. “They’re no longer the exclusive right of bikers and gangbangers, you know.”
“I wasn’t being critical.” His soapy hand slid up between my thighs and across my buttocks. “And I don’t have a problem with it.”
“But you don’t like it?” I probed.
“No, you’re wrong. I like it very much. It was just . . . unexpected.”
And to prove his point he leaned forward and latched onto the curve of my neck, sucking the skin until it stung erotically.
With his hands on my shoulders, he turned me back around and stared down at me. His hair hung straight back, and I watched the water bead on his shoulders, running down his chest in little rivulets before dispersing across his pretty fantastic six-pack.
“What does it mean?” he asked curiously.
I lifted my shoulders. “I don’t think it actually has a meaning.”
“Well, it’s an unusual design. How did you come up with it?”
I hesitated.
“What?” Gabriel put his hands on my upper arms and shook me a little. His eyes dropped, and he licked his lips as I jiggled.
“You’ll laugh at me,” I told him.
“No, I promise I won’t.”
His voice was serious, but my C-cup fillers were a definite distraction, which wasn’t surprising considering I was wet and naked. I took a deep breath, deliberately grazing his chest with my breasts as I did so, and waited for his attention to refocus above my neckline.
Finding my eyes again, Gabriel grinned sheepishly. “Sorry, you were saying?”
“I dreamed about it.”
I have never told anyone where the idea for my tattoo came from. It’s an odd grouping of seven characters, and the best way I can describe them is by saying they look like a marriage of Greek letters and the symbols on a computer display of unusual fonts. Not quite one or the other, and not really a blend of the two, but close. A language all its own, except I had no idea what language it could possibly be. I peered up at Gabriel from beneath my lashes, convinced I would see a smirk on his face, but his mouth remained a straight line, and there was no hidden laughter in his eyes.
“How old were you?” he asked seriously.
“I don’t really remember . . . about ten or eleven I think.”
“And your father allowed you to get tattooed so young?”
I laughed. “Of course not, he would have had a fit! I had to wait until I was eighteen before I could get inked. I was ten or eleven when I had the dream.” He looked at me oddly, and I felt as if he was hiding something. “It means something, doesn’t it?”
“I’m sure it does, but not anything that I know.”
Chuckling, Gabriel put his arms around me, his hand gently sweeping over the design before cupping my ass. I knew in my heart he was keeping something back, only I couldn’t imagine what or why. It was just a tattoo, after all, even if it was an odd one.
“Do you want to hear something really strange?” I asked.
“About your tattoo?”
He was back to being cautious, and I nodded.
“Okay, but wet your hair for me.” Now he reached for the bottle of shampoo.
I tipped my head back under the spray and let the weight of the water magically straighten out my curls.
“About a week after I had it done, Laycee decided she wanted one. Not the same thing, of course, she wanted one of those tribal designs.” I saw him nod as his fingers began working through the suds I now wore as a crown. The scent of tangerines complemented the pomegranate-mango body wash. “Anyway, she liked the way mine looked,” I continued, “and as I’d had hardly any bleeding, she wanted the same guy who inked me to do her.”
“Uh-huh.” Gabriel encouraged me to continue as he massaged my scalp.
“Mmmmm, oh yeah, that feels good.” For a few moments I luxuriated in the feel of his fingers in my hair. Now I was the one getting distracted. “Okay, where was I? Oh yeah, well, the guy didn’t remember doing it. He remembered me, but not actually doing the tattoo. Not even after I showed it to him. He drew a complete blank. Is that weird or what?”
“Not if he wasn’t meant to remember,” Gabriel said. At least I think that’s what he said, but my ears were full of soap. Rinsing them out I heard him ask, “So, did Laycee get a tattoo?”
“Nah.” I shook my head, and a big glob of suds landed on Gabriel’s chest. “She figured the guy was high on something, so she didn’t want him anywhere near her with an instrument that had multiple needles.”
“Very wise of her.”
Gabriel rinsed the shampoo out of my hair, and then his fingers began kneading my shoulders and I forgot everything else. When I was washed to his satisfaction, he reached around me and shut the water off. I couldn’t help smiling. He really did take up an awful lot of room. Pushing back the shower curtain, he grabbed a towel and wrapped me in it, letting his forefinger wander a little as he tucked the end between my breasts. He handed me another for my hair and then secured one around his own waist before lifting me over the edge of the tub. I frowned, wondering where the multitude of towels had come from. And then I recognized them as the same ones I had washed that morning and had left folded on top of the dryer. I guessed he must have run down in his birthday suit to get them. Good job I lived alone.
“Sheets?” he asked.
“What?”
“Where do you keep your clean sheets?”
“Linen closet in the hall.” I pointed out the bathroom door.
“Good, wait here.”
Again with the staying where I was. What was this obsession that I might run off somewhere either totally or half naked? Shaking my head, I wiped the condensation off the mirror above the sink and stared at my reflection. I looked the same, and yet I didn’t. My skin was flushed, my lips were swollen, and something in my eyes said I knew what it was like to hold a man in the palm of my hand. And not just figuratively.
“You are now an official member of the Women’s Club,” I murmured to my reflection. About time, too . . . and well worth the wait.
Gabriel stepped back into the bathroom. “I put your sheets downstairs on the floor by the washer. Was that okay?”
I paused, a handful of wet curls in one hand and a wide-toothed comb in the other, surprised by his thoughtfulness in changing them in the first place. I figured most guys would have just mopped up the mess with a towel and left it at that. I opened my mouth to thank him and then closed it again. On both occasions, the towels and now the sheets, I hadn’t heard him going up or down the stairs. “Sure, that’s fine.”
Combing out the last of my tangles, I separated my hair into three sections so I could braid it. It would still be wet in the morning, but I didn’t care. At least it would be easier to comb out again.
“Here, let me do that,” Gabriel offered.
It was on my lips to automatically refuse, but then I stopped. His fingers moved deftly as he wove the wet strands into one.
“A man of hidden talents,” I murmured, handing him a band to secure the end.
In bed once more, in the comfort of clean sheets, Gabriel tucked me back against him so we lay together like spoons. Except I was a teaspoon and he was more of a ladle, a really big soup ladle. My butt nestled comfortably against his groin, and I felt him, semi-hard, flirting with the round curve of my ass. It
would take very little effort on my part to get him all the way erect.
I felt wonderfully content, satisfied in a way I had never known before. True, I was still a little sore and achy, but in a very good way. I was also exhausted and tried unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn.
“Sleep,” Gabriel whispered to me, kissing my cheek and shifting position so I could roll over into his arms.
I snuggled next to him, my hand tucked in the curve of his waist, with my head resting on his massive chest. I was just on the edge of sleep when I felt him kiss my forehead.
“I promise, I will have no other but you,” he whispered softly in the darkness.
You know who I am.
CHAPTER 21
I didn’t need to reach behind me to feel the cold sheet, or turn my head and see the empty pillow to know I was alone. Flinging an arm over my eyes, I fought back the hot prick of tears and told myself to stop being stupid. I had known since the moment I’d invited Gabriel into my bed there was a possibility he wouldn’t stay. I just wish he hadn’t felt the need to prove me right.
Rolling onto my side, I curled up into a ball and pressed my hands between my knees. It helped a little. I was still sore, but I needed to find out if the ache was going to incapacitate me in any way. I made myself stretch out slowly, feeling the burn along my thighs and a dull pain in my pelvic area. Holy crap! How come no one ever mentioned the morning after could make you feel like you’d been hit by a semi?
Throwing back the covers, I put my feet on the floor and dared my legs to give way. Deciding this would not be the morning to piss me off, they obeyed my command and propelled me to the bathroom. Everything seemed to be throbbing, from the end of my braid to my toes, but I couldn’t deny it was a perfectly acceptable condition when I recalled how I’d come by it. And just in case I was struck by the ridiculous notion that it had all been a really hot fantasy, I was sporting a pretty sizable love bite in the curve of my neck.
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