“Why the hell would I pull out?”
He was on edge, she realized, and would soon snap. Wouldn’t it be a completely erotic sight to see him snap, now that she was back in control again? Always she would fight for this kind of control, even though surrendering to him had felt so blissfully good.
“You don’t have to, because I’m on the pill.” She nipped at his bottom lip. “So you can go hard and deep and never, ever pull out. You can fill me up until—”
He shoved her hand away, gripped her thighs, and began to push inside. She made a noise of discomfort. The sheer size of him was amazingly good and bad.
“Okay?” he breathed.
“Yes.” But it did hurt a little. She hadn’t been with another man since Darius, before Ivy had been born. Only, she couldn’t tell him any of that. It was too much exposure for her heart and soul.
Suddenly, he pulled out, and she clutched at his back. “What are you doing?”
“You’ll see,” was all he said before he pushed down her body, and palmed her butt in his big hands, lifting her to his mouth. “You almost made me forget about what I’ve been dying to do to you, with that dirty talking you were doing, sweet thing.”
She squirmed, not used to being on display like this.
Once again, he’d taken over and she felt helpless to stop him. His head dipped, black hair brushing against her pale thighs. The first long lick of his tongue made her curl her hands into tight fists, the second had her begging for more, and the third, well, there wasn’t a third.
Instead, he settled himself between her thighs and feasted. “I delight in the taste of my lover,” he whispered.
She caught the grin, the heated look in his eyes, right before he sucked her clit into his mouth. “Angel, angel,” she chanted, teetering on the edge of what she knew would be an earth-shaking orgasm.
He sucked harder, and she almost screamed his name.
“Love hearing you say that,” he growled, crawling up her body. “Say it again.”
“Angel,” she moaned as he slid inside her. She gasped, and her eyes opened wide.
Gabriel gazed down at her, his face tight. “I’m not sure how long I can last.”
“Me neither,” she confessed. Forget control. All she wanted was him.
His head dropped, and he began to move.
Oh God, he moved and stroked and touched her in just the right spot, gave her clitoris a little pat that made her arch off the bed and into him. He did it again and drove himself so deep that she swore she could taste him in her mouth.
“Like that?” he asked roughly
Burying her face into the crook of his neck was her only response. He didn’t let up, didn’t give her a chance to find her bearings, or even to think of what she should do next. Where she could touch him and make him—
He shifted, the head of his cock hitting her in just the right spot, and she saw stars.
Widening her legs, she fisted her hands in his hair and brought his mouth to hers, kissing him. And kissing him some more, until she came, crying out his name and begging for him to never stop.
“Don’t stop. More,” she said, dragging in a breath.
“I have to—”
“Do it.”
He drew in a ragged breath, his chest heaving. “You’re sure?”
She plunged her tongue inside of his mouth and wrapped her legs around his waist. He bucked against her, driving deep and hard, until finally, finally he melted into her and groaned her name… Until he returned her frantic kisses with tender ones.
He gently brushed the hair out of her face, his blue eyes soft and blazing with love. For her. A part of her wanted to deny it and chalk it up to his first time, but a larger part of her, the part of her who wanted to be loved and cherished, refused to be ignored.
“That was amazing,” she said.
He grinned, all boyish and proud. “So, a repeat performance wouldn’t be out of the question?”
She shifted beneath him, eyes widening when she felt how quickly he was filling her again. “Already?”
“I’ve been waiting a long, long time,” he said, then sucked on her bottom lip and let it out with a little pop. “Practice makes perfect, and I want every time to be perfect with you.”
“It already is,” she heard herself say. He pulled away a little, tilting his head to one side. She put her fingers against his lips. “Please don’t.”
He kissed the tips before nudging them out of his way. “My sweet wife, I’d never use what we say here and now against you. I’d never throw it in your face when you let down your walls and allow me inside.”
Tears threatened her resolve.
“Don’t you know what an honor it is for me? Don’t you know how much I cherish you and what we’ve already done?”
“Gabriel,” she began, but the words wouldn’t come, and thankfully, neither would the tears.
He swept his lips over hers. “It’s all right, sweetheart, but maybe one day you’ll let down all your walls and not be so afraid to let me see the real you.”
His words made her all gooey inside, yet at the same time, made her stiffen against him, but he took it as a sign to move.
And thank God he did, because when he moved, she stopped thinking and started feeling him. He surrounded her, held her, and whispered words of love that didn’t require her to say anything back.
Her angel didn’t require anything from her at all, but for her to be her, and that was the best and the worst thing about their situation.
***
“This is for you. It’s a wedding present.” Gabriel handed her a large, brightly wrapped box after they’d eaten breakfast in bed. He’d loved waking up with her this morning, kissing her and sliding inside, moving in slow glides until she’d urged him faster and harder. He loved the look on her face when he made her lounge in bed while he cooked her breakfast.
Honestly, he loved everything about her. Always had and always would.
“I have one for you, too,” she said, setting her present down beside her before slipping from the bed and padding over to the closet. She still hadn’t unpacked, but he’d been keeping her occupied, so… She came back to bed, smiling shyly as she handed it to him, and crawled back in bed. “I had a little help picking it out. I needed to make sure you didn’t have this one.”
“You first,” he said. He watched as she carefully opened the present, not tearing into the wrapping paper or breaking the bow. “We have a ton of presents to go through, you know?”
“From the wedding?” Her brow wrinkled as she pulled away the last of the paper. “Oh my… angel,” she breathed, her gaze going from the art set he’d bought her, to his face, and then back again. “You remembered?”
“I remember the blue ribbon you won for your painting of a field of wildflowers. Town Hall had it on display for days.” He rubbed his jaw. “It has everything you could need, except paint. I thought we could go to one of those hobby stores in Wilmington to pick some out, and anything else you might need.”
She hugged it to her chest. “Thank you.”
“Did you ever wonder what happened to your painting?”
Her face fell a little. “I heard they threw it away.”
“Nope.” He gestured to the painting over the bed, and her eyes widened before she giggled. “I found it in one of the storage rooms a few years back when they needed help searching through old documents. Jemma Leigh’s mother said I could keep it, since the town didn’t own it.”
“I can’t believe I didn’t notice.” Her attention was fully on the swirls of green, red, yellow, blue, purple, and pink. It was actually a really good painting, almost lifelike. He’d always thought she had a talent for art.
“I’d be offended if you’d noticed,” he teased. “I’ve been working very hard to dispel the myth that waiting until you get married to have sex is a bad thing.”
She rolled her eyes, and then leaned over to kiss him sweetly on the cheek. “Your turn.”
He opened his present, just as careful with the paper as she had been, to find that she’d bought him a book on astronomy. It was one he’d been eyeing for a while, but hadn’t bought yet. “Now who’s the one remembering?”
Biting the side of her lip, she shrugged and then said, “I’m happy you like it. Maybe you can show me how to use your telescope.”
“You know, I read an article about using feather brushes during sex,” he said.
“Tell me more.” She held out the box. “Preferably with a demonstration.”
He tackled her to the bed instead, laughing and kissing her.
Chapter Twenty-One
Summer couldn’t face Gabriel or herself the next morning when she woke up, and certainly not after showering and finding him sleeping so peacefully. Instead, she wrapped a quilt around her body and stepped outside, walking down to the end of the pier and sitting down.
The sun had barely risen in the sky, but she couldn’t welcome the dawn of a new day, because today was not only the last day of their honeymoon, it was also the last day she would allow herself to feel vulnerable, to surrender completely, and believe what he insisted on telling her.
I love you.
You’re mine.
We belong together.
You’re perfect.
Lies. All lies. Though he didn’t know it.
Gabriel actually believed those pretty lies, with his entire heart and soul. She knew this about him. She knew he didn’t give his love lightly to her, and that’s what made it all the worse for both of them, because she would leave him. He knew from the start what her goal was, and what would happen once she met it.
After she got Ivy back, everything would be right in the world again. She would be whole once more, the aching part of her heart that had been missing for so long finally filled. It didn’t matter that the lawyer didn’t think she had a chance in hell of getting her back, because Summer was confident she could make Rose see things her way.
She could make Rose acknowledge that she, Ivy’s biological mother, was who was best for her. She could make Gabriel see that she wasn’t who was best for him.
The art kit had been the final straw.
She could—her vision blurred. Hot tears spilled down her cheeks.
“I can do this,” she whispered fiercely.
***
Gabriel stretched and rolled over in bed, searching for his wife. “Wife,” he said with a smile, then his smile fell when his hand encountered nothing but cold sheets. Cold sheets meant she’d been up for hours, without waking him.
“Summer?” He rose from bed, rubbing his chest and yawning before he grabbed a pair old of pajama pants.
She didn’t answer, so he tried again. “Summer?”
The cold from the sheets seemed seep inside him from across the room when silence met him, but he tried not to let that bother him. Summer had always been an early riser. Striding to the back door, he opened it and went outside. Warm relief flooded him when he spotted her at the end of the pier, wrapped in a quilt.
Warm relief turned to hot desire when she dropped the quilt. He would never get used to the sight of her, all golden skin and soft curves.
The last time she had been in Holland Springs, her body had been almost as sharp as her words. Her body had felt bony and brittle. It had worried him so much that he’d made her get something to eat before taking her to Ivy, but now that she’d filled out again, her skin no longer looked stretched tight over muscle and bones.
Still, she wasn’t as strong as she would have him and everyone else believe. Like the graceful willow tree he had planted in his yard, if too much strain and pressure were applied, eventually she would break.
Summer turned slowly, the look on her face both heartbreaking and heart racing. He’d seen it often enough to know she was determined to prove she had control. It wasn’t a matter of controlling him; it was a matter of controlling her situation.
“Not again,” he muttered.
Instead of waiting for her to come to him, he went to her first. The grass was cold and dewy under his feet, but he didn’t care. All he could think and feel and see was her—standing there, waiting for him. He had to save her.
She thrust out her breasts, raised her arms over her head, and stretched. “Morning,” she said as he stopped a couple of feet away.
“Missed you this morning.”
“Did you?” She took a small step toward him before running a hand up his bare chest. “Want me to make it up to you?”
“If that’s what you think you should do.”
A flash of annoyance appeared in her eyes. Gracefully, she kneeled in front of him and pulled down his pants, freeing his erection. His vision sparked, a hot flash of white light, when she wrapped her mouth around the tip of him.
His hands went to her hair, burying his finger and wrapping the blond strands around them. “You don’t have to—”
“I delight in the taste of my lover,” she said, and then licked the length of him.
Don’t throw my words back at me, he silently begged. “Don’t,” he groaned, tugging on her hair. He wanted her to continue. He wanted to feel her mouth on him again, but not like this, not like she owed him.
She sucked him deep, and his eyes rolled. His hips moved, his hands pushing and pulling her head as he found a rhythm. Wet, hot pleasure washed over him.
He couldn’t think. He could barely speak—much less breathe.
The head of his cock hit the back of her throat and he went over the edge, groaning her name and hating himself as clarity returned. Shame washed over him as she stood, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, not at what she had done, but for the reason behind it. A reason he didn’t know, but he did know it couldn’t be because she loved him and wanted to give him pleasure.
“I don’t expect you to perform for me,” he said, adjusting his pants.
Her brown eye turned hard and cold, after days of warmth residing there, and he wanted to shout and curse at his own weak flesh. “What do you expect?”
He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “For you to talk to me.”
“I have nothing to say.”
“Then at least share why you decided to—”
“Give you a blow job?”
His jaw turned hard. “Why do you have to do this? Why do you take something that was amazing and special and make it sordid and—”
“Not sordid.” She rolled her eyes. “Yet another s-word I need to learn, like sinning.” She cupped her breasts. “Was it a sin when you sucked on these?”
“Summer.”
Her hands left her breasts, to tiptoe down her flat stomach, and slide between her legs. “Was it sinful to touch me here, to lick me, and shove your dick inside of me?”
He grabbed her wrist. “Stop it, before you say something that you’ll regret.”
“I already regret what I said to you,” she shouted. “I regret marrying you, and the faster you regret marrying me the better.”
“Why?”
“Because.” Her lower lip trembled, and the hardness in her eyes glistened, like slick ice. “It just is.”
He wanted to argue with her some more. He wanted to explain all the reason why it was the best decision either of them had ever made when it came to their relationship.
“I won’t regret it. No matter how hard and far you push me away, I’ll keep coming back. No matter how silent you become, I’ll keep talking.” He shook his head. “I’ve let you lead this relationship for too long, and I’m done.”
Her eyes widened. “You are?”
“Hell, yes.” Then he picked her up in his arms and carried her back inside, striding to the bedroom and placing her in the middle of the bed. He didn’t stop touching her, didn’t stop kissing her, until he was hard again, and she was begging for him to make love to her, begging him to let her come.
Finally, he thrust deep inside of her, groaning her name.
“Please, please,” she cried out, writhing beneath him, but he ke
pt the roll of his hips steady. “Faster.”
“No.” He dipped his head, licking her nipple, and then giving the other some attention until they were hard, greedy little points. “Say it after me—divorce isn’t an option.”
She stopped moving long enough to give him an evil glare. “Divorce isn’t an option… it’s a necessity.”
Cursing under his breath, he pulled out of her and flipped her on her stomach, getting into position behind her. When she didn’t line up properly for him, he improvised and shoved a pillow under her hips, before giving her enticing little bottom a smack. She squealed and tried to get up, but he held her in place with one hand and smacked her there again.
Her legs widened, giving him an extremely nice view of her wet folds, all pink and waiting for him to fill her up again. Grabbing his cock, he eased it inside of her, pausing to give her time to adjust. “How’s that?”
“I won’t say it.” There was a little hitch in her voice.
Exhaling, he closed his eyes. “You don’t have to.”
“Angel,” she said tentatively.
He didn’t want to answer her. All he wanted was for her to agree, and for them to make love like nothing was wrong between them. But he did anyway.
“I’m still here.” The snug feel of her made his eyes water. He couldn’t help it.
“Order me to tell you to move.”
His eyes flew open. “What?”
“Please,” she said. “I can’t…”
Their damnable pride. That’s what had brought them to this point, and yet, here she was, asking for his help. “Tell me what you want.”
“I want…” He slid the smallest of distances and she moaned. “That. I want that.”
He gripped her hips, pulling out and thrusting inside of again. “This?”
“Yes.”
In and out, he thrust inside of her, every slide, every roll of his hips, encourage by her reverent yeses and pleas for more. His heart pounded, and their skin grew slick. Bead of sweat rolled down his back, but there was no way he’d come before her.
Not Over You (Holland Springs) Page 13
