Absolute Pleasure (21 page)

"Is that why you kiss and touch me?"

"I'm helping you acclimate to what's coming."

"Why would I bleed?"

"There is a thin piece of skin protecting the entrance to your womb, ensuring you're a virgin. Your husband breaks through it on your wedding night."

She laughed. "We don't have to fret over that contingency."

"You might regret your decision later."

"I doubt it."

She chortled with disgust. As if some swain would ask her to marry! Apart from her lack of suitors, since meeting Gabriel and ascertaining what a wife's duties truly entailed, she couldn't picture herself submitting to another. The idea
of any man having her—besides Gabriel—was thoroughly repugnant. She'd begun to fancy herself as belonging to him and him alone, and she could never ally herself with another. It would seem like a sin.

"If I begged it of you," she shamelessly inquired, "would you take my virginity right now?"

"I don't think so."

He frowned down at her, mulling over his refusal. Obviously, this was not how his trysts typically progressed. He looked baffled, as if the words were the last he'd ever expected to spout from his own lips.

"Why won't you?"

"I'm confused about us. I'm not persuaded that I should relieve you of your maidenhood."

If he wasn't interested in compromising her, what were they doing? "Why not?"

"Because we can't predict the future. Once you lose your virginity, you can't get it back, and I would never want you to lament that I'd been the one to steal it from you."

"That's very sweet, Gabriel."

He blushed at the compliment, as if gallantry was out of character for him. Perhaps it was.

"And... I like you," he said, smiling, melting her determination and softening her opposition to a more serious involvement. "I could never harm you."

After such a profession, what woman could resist falling in love?

She'd spent long hours counseling herself, preaching restraint, establishing priorities, and forcing herself to remember that he was not the man for her. That she couldn't count on him, or anticipate an enduring association. That she couldn't permit her heart to become affected, but unfortunately, her heart seemed to have developed a will of its own. She was falling in love with Gabriel and falling fast, but she could never so much as hint to him that she was forming a stronger bond.

If he suspected that her emotions were engaged, he might not agree to see her again. Though the moment of separation would arrive someday, life without Gabriel would be unbearable, and she couldn't tolerate that her own precipitous demeanor might hasten the inevitable.

She changed the subject to carnal relations.

"May I look at you?"

"I shouldn't disrobe."

"Whyever not?"

"I'm horridly aroused. I'm not confident I can control myself."

What fabulous news! If he was already at the point of no return, just imagine what might ensue once he was naked.

"At least remove your shirt." She was careful not to let an inkling of her conniving creep into her voice, but she wanted him unclad and if she had to scheme in order to accomplish her goal, then that's what she would do! "Surely you wouldn't find it too dangerous?"

He brooded over her request, then acquiesced. "I suppose I could."

Tugging the hem out of his waistband, he wrenched it up and over his head, while she greedily assessed how his muscles shifted, his arms extended.

His shirt hit the floor, and she grazed his chest, combing her fingers through the springy hair, and she toyed with his nipples, squeezing and pinching until he hissed out an afflicted breath, then she lowered a hand to his crotch, bedeviling his cock.

"Show yourself to me. Let me see how you're put together."

Their gazes locked, and he vacillated, but he couldn't prevent himself from complying any more than she could check her incorrigible impulses when he suggested she participate in a naughty exploit.

Daring her to proceed, he unfastened the top button, but did no more, leaving the rest up to her, as though he
wished no part—or blame—for what was about to transpire.

As if she'd shy away! She readily seized the chance she'd been offered, fumbling and rushing to free the remainder, which was difficult considering how his erect member stretched the enclosure. His body was tensed, on edge, and very much like a wild animal in a cage that was chafing to burst out from its confines.

The last button came undone, and she stared at his crotch, wondering what to do next, but he was beyond waiting.

"Don't be timid."

"I'm not," but she didn't move.

'Touch me," he ordered irritably.

At her indecision, he guided her inside his pants, wrapping her fingers around his staff. Mesmerized, she halted, deciphering the exact proportions. It seemed huge, and she could barely circle the breadth of it.

His hand enveloped her own, and he directed her, indicating how to add pressure, then he flexed, the adamant rod propelling into her closed fist. With his trousers in place, their disposition was awkward, and she couldn't provide him with as much manipulation as he required.

Frustrated, he jerked away. Freeing himself from constraint, he pushed his pants down to his haunches.

"Look at me," he decreed.

"Oh my ... It's so large!"

"I'm a big man; bigger than most."

Amazed and astonished, she couldn't wrest herself away from the sight. The appendage—reddened and swollen—jutted out from a nest of hair that shrouded his groin. The extremity was an acrimonious, pulsating organ, and he settled himself on the other end of the sofa, and he brought her with him, so that she was on her knees and hovering over it.

This time, she didn't falter. Using both her hands, she eagerly applied herself to the prurient task. A zealous pupil, she rapidly deduced what he liked, what titillated him the most. She alternated tension and tempo, every machination causing his cock to swell, and it appeared to grow—and become more demanding—with each handling.

She goaded him until the crimson tip was oozing with a slippery juice, and he was like an overstretched bow string, ready to snap from the strain.

He took her hand and situated it so that she cradled one of the sacs dangling between his legs. With a much lighter stress, he showed her how to pet him.

"What are these?" she queried.

"My balls," he bit out. "They shelter my seed."

"They're so soft."

'They're very sensitive."

She'd already gathered as much and, as she nestled the prized pair, he nearly exploded from pent-up perturbation.

'Take me in your mouth."

"What?"

Initially, she didn't grasp his objective, but he eased her down so that he could rub the crown across her lips, and his aim was abundantly clear.

She froze, once again unsure. These physical acts definitely escalated in a hurry!

"I can't take much more," he disclosed, "and I want to be inside you at least once before I reach the end."

"Will it hurt?"

"Only me." He chuckled, alluding to matters she didn't comprehend.

"Will you..." She couldn't pose the questions to which she suddenly needed explicit answers: Would he spill his seed in her mouth? How would it taste? How would it feel?

"I won't come in your mouth," he assured her, reading her frantic introspection.

She wasn't certain if she was relieved or not. "Why?"

"You're a novice. The first few instances can be .., unpleasant. I'm aroused, so I won't be gentle. This sort of sexual play can take some getting used to. For the woman."

Not for the man, evidently. "Then why would you solicit it from me?"

"Because it will please me more than just about anything you could possibly do." She hated it when he plugged at her willpower, when he made it so difficult to decline. Even as he requested the libidinous indulgence, she was tempted beyond her limits.

Very much like the snake in Eden,
she thought,
luring Eve to her doom.

"Will you stop if I ask it of you?"

He snorted derisively, and she couldn't figure out if his reply was yes or no.

"Go down on me,
bella."

She stared up into his blazing blue eyes. He was scrutinizing her almost violently, as if he hadn't decided what he might do if she refused. She wasn't fearful of trying it; it was merely the newness of the deed that instilled her trepidation. However, everything he'd shown her up to this point had been remarkable.

Tentatively, she licked him with her tongue, moistening the apex, and the moment she touched him, she was so glad she had. In a flash, she'd pushed him much farmer than she'd ever conceived she could.

"Like that?" she questioned.

"Exactly like that," he groaned.

She went to work, savoring his taste, his smell. With great relish, she laved at the juice that continued to flow, but she couldn't get it all. The more she brushed across the crown, the more saturated it became.

"Open for me now."

No longer fearful or concerned, she did as he bade, easing her lips over the crest. She stretched to accommodate him, and as soon as he'd breached the portal, he flexed, just a small bit at first, men conferring a tad more with each thrust.

As he increased the depth to which he entered her, he was constantly whispering exotically in foreign languages that she didn't recognize, and it seemed that he was murmuring love words, of flattery and adulation, and she pretended that she knew their definition.

She snuggled into the pillows, spinning onto her side and bracing against the sofa so that he could penetrate more fully. Expeditiously, she adapted to the abnormal exploit, and her world shrank to the barest elements: Gabriel, his cock, her mouth. The maneuver was so rudimentary, so essential, that she could have lain there forever.

Then, without warning, he pulled away, and she reached out to him, hating the loss, but he dragged her beneath him, then he scooted down until his cock was between her legs.

"I've got to come. Now."

"What are you—" she started, but he blocked any interrogation with a fiery kiss.

“I love the taste of my sex in your mouth." He adjusted himself on her stomach. "You were made for fucking. Made for me."

He commenced flexing, approaching ah elevated precipice much as she'd struggled to attain, and she smiled, thrilled that she'd inspired him to such a drastic edge.

'Tell me what to do."

"Put your arms around me," he instructed. "Hold me tight."

"I will."

"Don't let go."

She hugged him with all her might, as he buried his face into the pillow next to her, then he lunged and lunged again. His body stiffened. A haunting moan reverberated through her skin and bones. Down below, on her abdomen, the heated spew of his seed erupted, a pungent odor filled the air, then he collapsed onto her, his heavy weight pushing her into the cushions, and she crushed him to her breast, cherishing every aspect of the torrid exhibition.

How could she ever have guessed that lovemaking would include such a personal unveiling of self and soul? When she'd unraveled earlier, had he encountered the same staggering sense of connection? Was that why he'd seemed so disturbed, so unsettled, at the conclusion?

After such a fervent interlude, she wasn't sure what to expect, so as his heartbeat slowed, as he mellowed, she struggled for composure, prepared for any eventuality.

When he finally rolled off so that he was lying beside her, she took it as a very good sign that he kept her close. His thigh was thrown across hers, his arm massaged her back and dipped down to lazily caress her bare bottom.

He rained kisses on her hair, her brow, her cheek, his lips seeking and ultimately finding her own. His tongue tenderly mated with hers in a delicate dance of affection and what had to be close to love, but with him, she wouldn't try to put a name to his emotions. It was enough that he was so moved by what had just happened, and she was overjoyed that he would share such a unique, private experience with her.

Their lips parted, and he was smiling bashfully. He looked young, dear, puzzled, his confident arrogance temporarily tucked away.

He traced across the corner of her mouth. "I didn't hurt you, did I?”

"No."

"When I'm excited, I don't always mind my manners."

"I noticed, but it's quite all right with me."

"My little strumpet!" He swatted her rear.

She chuckled, but her heart ached. How she longed to comment on what she was feeling! Yet she couldn't describe her escalating affinity. He'd never want to be apprised of how much she'd come to value their relationship.

Besides, if she made some moronic affirmation of devotion, where would it leave them? The alliance they'd just established had left them both overly sentimental. If she mentioned the slightest indication of elevated regard, he likely would do the same, and there they'd be, in a coil of love and ardor from which there was no logical retreat.