He pinches both nipples again. “Luna,” he warns.
“Fine!” It’s not like there are any big secrets anyway. “If you must know, my ex divorced me because I was a stay at home mom, even though we agreed years ago that I wouldn’t work. But I should have left him ages ago.”
“Why?”
I huff and look down at him. He’s focused on my breasts, tracing his fingertips lightly around, between, then across slowly. “Because he treated me like a second-class citizen. I was an object, and not one he liked very much. He was cruel and he drank too much. In fact, drinking was all he did. Sleep, work—sometimes, if he decided to go—then come home and get drunk. Every night, every weekend. And he was always angry when he drank, angry if he didn’t get to sleep it off for twelve hours. We walked on eggshells all the time. He called me names and lost his temper at the least little thing. He…” I trail off, the memories starting to piss me off, the fact that I didn’t leave him before it got so bad causing tears to choke me. I’m fucking done spilling my guts.
His jaw clenches and he grinds out, “Did he hurt you or the children?”
I shake my head. “No.” Not his business. Not now, not ever.
He lifts burning blue eyes to mine. “There are more ways to hurt someone than hitting, and I was referring to all types of pain.” His hands have stopped moving, are cupping the sides of my breasts gently. “Let me ask you again, and I want the truth this time. Did he hurt you or the children?”
I gulp against the tears that have lodged in my throat. Has anyone made that distinction before? “Yes,” I whisper brokenly. “Not the girls, never them. But me…every damn day.” I won’t specify the type of hurt inflicted. I can’t, not to Gabe, not to anyone.
He gives a brisk nod and his gaze hardens. “Do you want me to ruin him?”
I stare at him, shocked. On the surface, yes, absolutely. I want to ask Gabe to go in guns blazing, take everything Corey has and destroy any future possibility for his happiness. But the sweetest revenge in the world will be the day he realizes he’s lost his children, the day my girls realize what a complete ass he is and never want to see him again. And that day is coming. Already they hate seeing him one weekend a month. “No,” I decide. “No, I don’t want you to ruin him.”
He smiles at me, a gentle little smile that warms my soul. “Do you want me to beat him up, moon goddess?”
I can’t stop the stupid tears then, and smile back at him with a watery little laugh. “Yeah. That would be nice.”
I’m a decent person, not a fucking saint. Gabe pounding on my ex? I’d pay to see it.
He leans forward, his eyes intent, boring into mine. “Listen to me, Luna, and listen well. I won’t tell you this again. A stay at home mother has the hardest job in the world and she doesn’t even get paid for it. She doesn’t get weekends off, sick days, or vacation. It’s not a position to be disrespected.” He waits for me to nod before continuing. “A man who uses alcohol to mask dissatisfaction with that instead of working it out should be drawn and quartered. And a man who turns his anger against his wife and children should be shot. The only reason I asked before destroying him completely is because you want me to believe he never hit you. Make no mistake though. If he hit you or your children and I find out, I will not ask again.” He pauses to smile before adding softly, “And you’ll be very sorry you lied.”
I sniff sloppily. I’m not threatened at all. His speech is so nice, so comforting and empowering, and I fucking hate things like that. He hasn’t said anything that I haven’t heard from my dad and friends for the past year and a half, since the word “divorce” came up. But hearing it from him, from Gabe, who is mostly a stranger to me, forced to watch his eyes as he says it and see the conviction there…it almost tears me apart. And the fact that he’d go to bat for me like that…God, I can’t even process that part.
Part of me expects him to pull me into his arms to cry, and the other part is certain he’s going to fasten his pants and skip town. But he doesn’t do either of those things. Starting at my neck, he drops sucking kisses down my collarbone, between my breasts, down my stomach and across my hips before latching firmly to my cleft and tonguing me. His hands follow the path of his mouth before sliding beneath me to grip my buttocks and lift me to his mouth. He flicks his tongue against my clit before pulling back and blowing softly. I try to squeeze my thighs together against the surfeit of sensation, but his wide shoulders hold them apart. He mumbles something unintelligible against me before sliding my legs over his shoulders and returning his hands to my ass.
He’s still wearing his shirt, and the fabric bunches beneath my calves when I try to pull him closer. He grunts and pushes two fingers inside of me without warning. My thighs squeeze around his head involuntarily. I feel his fingers curl before he starts to drag them out slowly.
He’s looking for my g-spot. Huh. I doubt I have one, but if anyone can find it, it would…
Holy fuck, there it is. My legs jerk against him and he starts a slow rub, alternating with flicks of his tongue on my clit. Rub, lick, rub, lick…it’s devastating and my whole body trembles. My pussy feels like one huge, exposed nerve that he’s petting just right, and when all of the feelings converge, merging into one singular sensation, just before the best orgasm I’ve had in over a year, he stops.
“No! Don’t stop, please don’t stop. Please let me come,” I plead, gasping and arching frantically. He can’t stop now, has to keep going.
“Nicely done, moon goddess,” he praises huskily. “Come for me,” he orders before lowering his lips and returning his fingers to the slick folds desperately clenching on nothing. He finds the spot again and rubs, this time in cadence with the strong suction of his lips on my clit. Pressure builds, swelling and surging until I’m thrashing beneath the onslaught of his lips and hand.
Finally, it snaps. My back bows and I think I might be screaming, but I don’t care. The rush of pleasure is overwhelming, too much, and it lasts forever, crashing and flowing through every cell until I beg him to stop. His hands and mouth are relentless, never slowing or stopping. As the overload of pleasure begins to fade, he continues, sending short shocks through my limbs that make me spasm and grunt in what is probably a very un-sexy way.
Gabe pulls away slowly, lowering my legs and rising to kneel. His eyes burn into mine. “Thank you, Luna, for letting me do that, for coming so hard for me.”
Seriously? How am I supposed to respond to that? Saying “you’re welcome” seems a little ridiculous, especially since I should be thanking him. But it doesn’t matter because my throat won’t work.
He doesn’t expect me to respond apparently, because he’s speaking before I can figure out how to talk. “Undress me.”
No problem. I pull my arms down, realizing they’ve been above my head this whole time. I never even tried to move them to notice there was nothing to hold them there. I don’t know what I think of that so I push it aside to deal with later.
I sit up and reach for the buttons of his shirt, fumbling with them a little at first. When I get to the final few buttons, I realize his pants are still undone, and his fully erect penis is jutting out between the open ends of the shirt. I pause then take a moment to rub the sensitive spot on the underside of the plush crown. His breath catches, and I lean forward, one hand still working on the last button when I wrap my lips around him.
His hand goes to the back of my head and pushes, urging me gently to take more. I sink down, loving the way his thick cock stretches my lips, the way he fills my mouth and slides across my tongue. His hips thrust smoothly, slowly, in no hurry to start the frantic rush to completion.
I finally work the last button free and release him to sit back and look at him. God, he’s gorgeous. Hard slabs of muscle with just enough hair to run my fingers through. Small pink nipples peeking out of the mat of hair, shoulders for a mile, and abs that have some definition, but certainly aren’t a body builder’s. He’s thick, not lean, but hard and powerful. Fat wo
uldn’t dream of attaching itself to any part of him.
I realize suddenly that he’s the biggest man I’ve ever been with, both in physique and package. That’s not saying a whole lot, since my experience is somewhat limited, and I’ve always been a little intimidated by men this big. And Gabe intimidates the fuck out of me, but I’m not afraid of him. I trust him, as much as it’s possible to in our short acquaintance.
“Put the condom on me.” He holds out one of the foil wrappers and I tear it open with shaky hands. Excited shaky, not fearful. When I start to slide it on, he stops me with a hand on my wrist. “Use your mouth.”
The low growl of his dark voice sends a shudder down my spine. A fucking shudder, just from hearing him tell me to put a condom on with my mouth. God, he makes me hot.
We giggle a little when I drop the condom, and again when I can’t hold him in my mouth around the laughter. But eventually I get the condom rolled on most of the way, and he pushes me onto my back.
Gabe rubs his nose against mine a few times before pulling back and staring down at my lips. He lowers his head the barest inch before closing his eyes and shaking his head. The message is clear, whether he meant to send it or not. He won’t kiss me. But I don’t know if it’s part of how he keeps me so turned on or if there’s a deeper reason. I don’t want to ask, probably because deep down I know the answer.
“What’s the lady’s pleasure tonight?” He purrs, nuzzling my ear. “A gentleman?” He sucks my earlobe gently, then swirls his tongue around the shell of my ear. “Or a savage?” He growls the words and bites the curve of my neck, then licks and bites again.
Jesus Christ, can’t I have both?
“Both,” I whisper, hoping he’s all right with that. His deep, rumbling laugh vibrates against the pulse point in my throat.
“Carte blanche?”
Let him do whatever he wants? I don’t know if my trust goes that deep yet, and I remember last time when I hesitated, he withdrew the request to tie me with something besides pearls. Will he withdraw this one? I open my eyes and watch him, torn between taking whatever he’s got to offer and self-preservation. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t withdraw the offer, just lifts that damn eyebrow and waits.
I swallow and nod. “Carte blanche.” I don’t know if he hears me—I barely hear myself—but he smiles down at me, a wicked smile that makes my breath catch in my throat.
“Such a brave woman,” he murmurs, lowering his head to nuzzle my neck again. “If you want me to stop, just say so.” He waits for me to nod, then in a hard, cutting tone tells me, “Hands above your head.”
My arms shoot up before I can think twice about it. I can’t delude myself into thinking I’m submissive and all my dirty fantasies are about to come true. No other man could hold my hands above my head during sex with nothing more than his force of will. Maybe it’s his looks, or his commanding voice…hell, I don’t know. Maybe it’s the fucking money. Whatever it is though, I want it. I want to wrap myself up and wallow in it, let him use me however he wants. Because I know he’ll make it good, make me come harder than I’ve ever dreamed possible. After all…he’s done it every time so far.
Chapter 9
Later I’m going to have time to go over every moment we spend together tonight. I’ll lie awake in bed and stare at the ceiling, wondering two things. First, what the fuck am I doing? And second, when the fuck can I do it again? I’m not going to wonder where we’re going, if anywhere, and I’m not going to torture myself wondering if sex with a man I barely know makes me a slut. If it does, so be it. At least I’m a happy one.
But right now, I’m nervous and so turned on it’s uncomfortable. Gabe stands and shucks his pants before strolling around the bed, eyeing me thoughtfully. He looks at me, every inch covered and caressed by his perusal.
“Sit up and take your bra off.”
I’d forgotten it was still on. I obey and fling the little blue scrap of lace and underwire across the room.
“Lie back down, eyes on me.”
No problem. I want to look at him, would freeze him completely still in place if I could just for the opportunity to learn every inch of his body. A certain, impressive few inches in particular.
He continues looking at me and I squirm, beginning to get a little uncomfortable. I’m not overly self-conscious, but his silence is starting to get concerning. I don’t have lush, sensual curves, or a trim, willowy figure. I fall squarely somewhere in between. Full B cup or a small C, soft waist and hips that flare slightly. My butt isn’t that great, but it’s never been called a “badonkadonk” and probably never will. But hey, at least it’s not flat. I have stretch marks, and without a bra my boobs hang a little lower than is considered attractive. All these insecurities start to float, bobbing to the surface of my mind like dead fish.
“Be still,” he barks out.
I try, but the urge to cover myself is becoming unbearable as he continues to just fucking look. I know he’s cataloging all my flaws, the things that keep me from being as attractive and sensual as the women he’s probably used to. It’s really just a matter of time before he starts listing them off.
“Spread your legs, Luna.” He speaks from the foot of the bed and I realize that while I’ve kept my eyes on him, I haven’t really been paying attention. I open my legs obediently, humiliated, almost in tears. “Farther.” I obey again and sniff, trying to keep from crying. “Farther,” he says again, softly this time. A little choked sob escapes me as I spread my legs until my feet hang off either side of the bed. I’m wide open, fully exposed to him while he looks at every ugly part of me.
And my gumption comes back for just a second. But that’s really all it takes. Fucking bastard. Fuck this, I’m out of here.
“Be still. Eyes on me,” he bites out, and I realize that I’ve squeezed my eyes closed. With just those words, I can’t move and the little spurt of courage shrivels up. Hot tear tracks streak from the corners of my eyes into my hair. I open my eyes and look. He’s still at the foot of the bed, just looking at me, his hand fisted around his cock, stroking himself slowly. My eyes meet his and he keeps tugging, soft grunts escaping his lips. “I could come just looking at you,” he growls. He keeps up the motion of his hand, his eyes burning me as he continues. “And next time I see you, I’m going to. I’m going to lay you out and just look at you, watch your pussy get wetter and wetter, until I come all over it.” His hand slows and stops. I can’t stop watching, but I have stopped crying. “You’re lying there crying because you’re thinking about the things you don’t like about yourself.” He crawls between my legs and shoves his cock into me brutally, his hands falling on either side of my head as he braces himself. I cry out and try to wrap my legs around his waist. “Put your legs back and keep them there,” he grates out, going completely still. When I shakily lower my legs, spreading them as wide as I can again, he starts pounding into me in long, hard plunges. “You don’t look at your body to see how sexy you are. You look at how hard my cock is. Understand?”
I nod, unable to speak again.
“When you figure out that seeing you makes me hard as a fucking rock, then maybe you’ll be able to see yourself. Really see.” He thrusts hard and holds, circling himself inside of me and grinding his pelvis against my clit. “Come when you’re ready, moon goddess.”
I haven’t given him that much control, to decide if I can or cannot come, but he’s taken it and hasn’t abused it in our very short time together. And as if they were just waiting for him to tell me that, the stages of build-up shudder through me all at once and I’m on the brink. Two more hard plunges is all it takes, and I explode beneath him.
He pushes up, kneeling as he rubs out my orgasm, and holds my legs apart. “That’s right, sweetheart. Come hard.”
Somehow I manage to watch him amidst the bombardment of my senses and mind. He circles his hips against me, watching himself fuck me through my peak, his hands pushing against my thighs to keep me immobile. And when his face contorts and he t
hrows his head back with a grimace, jerking into me in sharp, hard lunges, it’s god damn spiritual.
He lowers himself onto me slowly, a thin sheen of sweat on both of us causing our bodies to slide. I hum in absolute, complete contentment, my insecurities forgotten for the moment, and mumble in his ear, “Was that the savage or the gentleman? I’m confused.”
He shudders and moans, slow and exhausted sounding. “Both. Give me a minute and I’ll do it again.”
I pat his shoulder. “Take all the time you need. As long as it’s not more than about an hour.”
“Thirty minutes,” he grumbles, rolling off and pulling me into his arms.
I snuggle in, loving the warm skin of his shoulder beneath my cheek and the crisp of hair beneath my palm. I’ve never been a cuddler, but Gabe…well, he’s changing a lot.
My eyes shoot open in sudden worry. How much will change if he sticks around? I’m not sure I want to know.
I close my eyes, just for a minute, too lethargic to let the worry take hold.
* * * *
I come awake to a persistent shaking and a deep voice crooning my name. The lamp is on, casting a soft glow around the room. Gabe is leaning on one elbow looking down at me, eyes half closed from sleep, a crease in one cheek, and his hair completely mussed.
I know I don’t look half that good waking up.
“It’s almost dawn,” he tells me, sleep turning his midnight voice into an even deeper, rougher growl.
I stretch, trying to loosen sore muscles that are not accustomed to use, and his hand wanders, cupping and caressing and tweaking. When he gets to my hip, he curls his hand into my ass and pulls me closer. A huge erection pokes me in the stomach and I grin up at him. He doesn’t smile, just has that terribly serious expression that I’m beginning to suspect is a bit of a mask.
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