Passionate Kisses

by Various

  He’s trying so hard to enter me slowly, his arms tremble from his labor. “Sorry love. It’s just you’re so damn tight.”

  “If you weren’t so damn huge.” No matter how careful he is, it bites this invasion of his. Call me a masochist, but I love it. Love the pain. Love him.

  His cocky laugh ripples right through his length into my sheath. As if I needed anything else to catch on fire.

  “How are you doing?” As he pushes deeper, his gaze weighs and measures me. Sweat drips from him, from his effort not to rush things.

  I wipe his chest and smear his sweat over me. I want to smell like him when I come. But that’s not enough. I jerk up my hips, dig my nails into his ass. “You’re going too slow.”

  He groans. “Don’t want to hurt you.”

  “You’re not.” I reach up and twist his nipple.

  Cursing, he thrusts all the way inside me, so deep he’s touching my womb. Baby meet your daddy.

  I smile.

  “You like?”

  “Oh, yes. More.”

  He rears, swings his hips back and shoves into me. “You’re so hot. Inside.” He pumps up and down, harder, faster. But it’s still not enough for me. He leans down and rests his weight on his elbows while he traps my head in his hands, kisses me. “I love how you feel. Love making love to you.”

  “Uh-huh.” I tweak his other nipple, and he finally lets go.

  Freed of all restraints, he pounds into me, each stroke more powerful than the next. And I climb higher and higher until he hits something. Oh god oh god oh my god. I gulp, clamp his upper arms, wrap my legs around his hips.

  Powerful and strong, he rams into me. His wolf of a smile tells me. This is what you wanted, isn’t it?

  Yes, it most certainly is. My legs quiver. I can’t catch my breath. “Now, Gabriel, now.”

  He grabs my ass and stabs into me once, twice, three times. I climax so hard my eyes roll back in my head.

  His body stiffens. He rears back his head, grits his teeth and comes and comes and comes with so much cum it shoots up my quim to my belly button. Done with his passion, he collapses on me and breathes my name. “Elizabeth.”

  His weight, his sweat, his smell surround me. Wishing I could hold him like this forever, I wrap my arms around him and hold him tight. But soon exhaustion claims me and I fade away.

  I wake up to find us still on the couch, my head on his pec, his hand drawing little circles on my arm.

  “You have a nice nap?” he asks.

  “I can’t believe I drifted off like that. Did I sleep long?”

  “About fifteen minutes.”

  I sit up on my elbow and stare at him. “You’re kidding.”

  He smiles and shakes his head. “No.”

  How long have I been here? “What time is it?”

  He checks his watch. “Two.”

  “Maybe I should go.” Somebody’s bound to be looking for him.

  His hand clamps around my shoulder. “What’s the hurry? You don’t have anywhere to be, do you?” Ever possessive Gabriel frowns at me.

  “No. But you probably do.”

  “I don’t have anything scheduled for the rest of the day. Except for dinner and tea.”

  He settles me against him, maybe to ensure I won’t leave.

  For a few minutes, we simply breathe. No talk, no foreplay, only the sheer enjoyment of being with him. But the need to know if he went riding with Lady Melissande soon claws at my gut, not allowing me to rest until I find out. I take a deep breath, let it out. “You went riding this morning.”

  “Yes.”

  “Alone?”

  For a second, he hesitates “No. Melissande rode with me.”

  My soul plummets into a well of despair. I don’t have the right to feel this way. We’re not in a relationship. He’s free to escort whoever he likes. But my heart doesn’t care. Mad questions rattle around my brain. Is he interested in her? Or is it something more serious? But I can’t come right out and ask him. So I broach the subject in a roundabout way. “Why haven’t you married?”

  He stops caressing my arm and stares down at me. “What brought on that question?”

  “Curiosity. You are thirty two years old and the heir to a title. Marriage is a foregone conclusion. The only question is who?” Eyes downcast, I chip away at my nail polish. “I hear your mother has Lady Melissande all picked out for you.”

  He grips my chin, turns it, so I’m forced to look at him.

  “Who told you that?”

  “A little birdie.” I’m not about to out his cousin’s wife.

  “A little birdie with a big mouth. Let me guess. Athena.” A frown mars his perfect features.

  “Doesn’t matter who told me. Melissande would be the perfect wife for you. She’s beautiful and more than your equal title wise.”

  “Yes, she is.” His tone turns gruff, so different from the lover like timbre of moments ago.

  My breath catches in my throat. Blinking away imminent tears, I twist my chin from his grasp.

  He tucks a curl behind my ear, strokes a hand down my back. “But I can’t imagine spending the next fifty years by her side, having children with her.” When he mentions children, his hand circles around to my belly.

  Tell him now. I take a breath to do so, but before I can, a knock sounds on the door.

  “Gabe?”

  I tense. Sounds like Brianna, but I can’t be sure.

  He scrambles into his riding breeches, opens the door an inch.

  When Brianna’s head pokes in, I let out a held breath. “Mummy’s searching for you. Royce mentioned he’d seen you in the folly, but she won’t be fooled for long.”

  “Thanks, Bri. Owe you one.”

  “Just returning the favor, big brother.” Brianna’s steps clatter away before Gabriel eases the door shut.

  By the time he turns, I’ve slipped into a pair of panties I hid in my skirt pocket and retrieved my bra.

  He pries the bra from my grip and tosses it to the floor. “What’s the rush?”

  “You heard your sister. Your mother is looking for you.”

  “Let her look.” He loses his riding breeches and tears off my panties before he kisses me hard.

  I wrestle my mouth from his. “What exactly do you have against underwear?”

  “They’re on you.” He palms my ass, rubs his massive erection against my belly and I grow breathless in an instant.

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  “I want you naked. All the time.”

  “Hard to work without clothes.”

  “You wouldn’t have to work if you were mine,” he says with a cocky smile.

  “So what would I do? Stay at home and be the sweet little wife?” Yeah, like that will ever happen.

  “Yes.”

  I gasp at the insane thought. “Gabriel. That’s not what I want out of life. Besides what about the maid, your butler?”

  “No servants. Just you. Naked, wet and aching for me. Just like you are now.”

  I snort. “That’s quite a fantasy you have going on there, Storm. First off, I can’t cook. That’s Casey’s department.”

  “We’d order in.”

  “I make a lousy housekeeper.”

  “I own several properties. We could go from penthouse to cottage to mansion. You’d never have to lift a toilet brush.”

  I wrap my hands around his neck, nibble his bottom lip. “So if I don’t cook or clean, what do you want me for?” Like I don’t know.

  “For this, darling girl.” He picks me up by the back of my thighs, drives me against the empty space of wall between the certificates hanging on the wall. He spreads my legs with his knees, rubs the head of his cock against my clit. I want to object, but I can’t. I’m enjoying his teasing too much.

  A horse whinnies somewhere in the stables. The sound of voices drift in. A female voice. I panic. “Your mother!”

  I wiggle to be cut loose, but all I do is drive the head of his penis into me. Imprisone
d by his arms and his cock, I groan.

  “It’s not her.” He thrusts into me, so deep I can’t breathe for the size of him.

  The voices grow closer. Fearful it will be thrown open any second and we will be caught, I eye the door. Had he locked it? I can’t remember. “Storm.”

  “Gabriel.” He pulls out almost to the tip and surges once more, sure and strong.

  “You make me forget.” I’d missed him so damn much, hadn’t known about the hole in my heart til I saw him again. One look and I am whole again. And by God, I want this. I want him. “Gabriel.”

  “I love to be inside you, Elizabeth. Your quim quivers, strokes me so sweetly.”

  I have no shame, Spread-eagled for him and desperate for more, I say, “Fuck me. Fuck me, hard.”

  He rolls his hips against my pussy, right against my clit. I moan with wanton need. He kisses me, thrusts his tongue into my mouth, much the same way he’s thrusting his cock inside me. Sure and strong, his actions echo the other until I can’t take any more. A freight train of an orgasm’s bearing down on me. “I’m coming.”

  His hands clasp my thighs and he redoubles his efforts. Short, hard strokes. Dripping with sweat, he punches in and out, surges sure and strong. Fucking me. One, two, three times. Coming in one glorious climax, I scream his name. He ducks his head against my neck, love bites me and erupts in one long, burst of seed.

  We collapse to the floor, me on top, my legs tangled with his. Too weak to move I struggle for breath. We’re both naked. No doubt what we’ve been doing. Plus we both screamed. If I can hear the grooms, they can hear us as well. Embarrassed, my entire body turns pink.

  He pulls the hair away from my face. “What’s wrong?”

  “They heard us.”

  “They’re well paid to look the other way.”

  “They won’t talk?”

  “Not if they want to remain employed. I pay their salaries.”

  “Your mother’s not in charge?” One wouldn’t know it by the way she acts.

  “She runs things day to day, but I pay the bills.”

  “But I thought ... your mother’s fortune ...” My voice fades away.

  “She brought millions into the marriage, but Storm Industries’ profits pay for the castle upkeep.”

  Before he has a chance to explain, there’s another knock on the door. A frantic rat-a-tat.

  This time I don’t wait for him to open the door. I throw on my skirt, bra, tops.

  “She’s coming, Gabe.” Brianna again.

  Gabriel pushes aside a curtain on the far side of the office to reveal another door. “Go. I’ll deal with her.”

  As I rush outside, I finish buttoning my blouse, zipping up my skirt. I brush desperate fingers through my wildly curling hair hoping to restore it to some semblance of order. I’d kill for a mirror right now.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I spy Brianna rushing out of the back of the stables toward me. When she gets to my side, she links arms. “Slow down. If anybody asks, we’ve been taking a walk through the park. That will explain your rosy cheeks and windblown hair.”

  Gabriel-mussed hair, more like. Fearful of whom we may meet, my heart races while we stroll back to the castle. But the only person we run into is a maid busy dusting the hall.

  After the vigorous bout of lovemaking, my body’s clamoring for a nap. But with tea time an hour away, I barely have time to shower and dress before heading downstairs. Knowing I will collapse if I don’t lie down for an hour at least, I cut short tea time and head for my bed.

  The nap does me good, and I rise refreshed and wide awake. The blue empire waist dress I’m wearing ties right underneath my boobs, putting the girls firmly on display. Since I’d rather not give anyone a peep show, I grab a cashmere shawl to cover up my décolletage. No one will wonder about its use in the drafty dining room.

  I arrive for cocktails to discover additional guests. Another member of parliament, a viscount, and the mayor of a nearby town—the latter accompanied by his wife. Bri’s deep in conversation with her duke. The one with the chipmunk overbite. He strolls away to grab a drink, and she chatters her teeth at me. When I almost snort my virgin bloody Mary, I get the stink eye from Gabriel’s mother. He’s once again busy with Lady Melissande who’s dressed in a beautiful strapless gown that flows down her tall figure in waves of blue silk. Great! We both managed to choose the same shade of blue.

  During dinner, I’m seated next to the new Member of Parliament who’s young, good looking and single. Throughout the meal, he keeps me in stitches with one hilarious tale after another about some of his stuffier peers.

  At the end of the meal, he lifts his glass in a toast to me. “You’re splendid, simply splendid.”

  Heat rushes to my cheeks. My shawl slipped during dinner, so I suspect it’s my breasts he finds splendid, not me. Hoping to disguise my discomfiture, I glance around the room. My gaze lands on Royce who winks at me and nods toward the head of the table where Gabriel sits, brows knit in a thunderous expression. And his eyes, god, his eyes blaze with fury. In his right hand, he’s clutching an eating utensil in a tight fist—a knife.

  With the meal finished, we drift toward the library where the Countess invites her guests to make themselves comfortable while she explains the night’s entertainment—charades. She’s personally chosen a character in English history for each of us to represent. Appropriate costumes and accessories will be made available to the guests so they can dress up as they wish. Gosh, this actually sounds like fun.

  I’m paying close attention to her spiel about the teams when Gabriel sidles up behind me and hisses in my ear. “I’ll meet you in your room. Now.”

  Is he insane? Under the cover of taking a drink from a passing waiter, I whisper. “You’ll be missed if you leave.”

  “I. Don’t. Care.” By the corner of my eyes, I spot the red glare in his, the hard set of his jaw. If I don’t do as he asks, not knowing what he would do.

  Without waiting for my answer, he strides away. I collapse into the closest chair and try to catch my breath.

  Most guests sit politely listening to the Countess explain the rules of the game, but some are drifting through the space, stopping now and then to chat with a person or two, including my dinner companion who’s shaking hands with the other MP.

  Gabriel wanders around in a seemingly haphazard fashion, greeting one guest or another, all the while making his way toward the open doors in the back of the room.

  When somebody raises a hand to ask a question about the game, he slips away, unnoticed by anyone but me. I whisper something about not feeling well to the person next to me and follow him out the door.

  As soon as I walk through my bedroom door, Gabriel grabs my arm and slams the door behind me.

  “Let me go.”

  “No.” His lips curl white with anger.

  I tussle with him, but he’s too big, too strong. His hands clutch my upper arms. I’ll have bruises there in the morning. “What’s the matter? Why are you so angry?”

  “You exposed yourself to that man.”

  What? “I sat at your dinner table and talked to the guest seated next to me. Isn’t that the usual protocol?”

  “You allowed him to slobber all over you. In case you didn’t notice, he spent most of the dinner ogling your tits.”

  I finally manage to wrangle my arm from his hold and hitch up my chin. “They’re great tits.”

  His brows lower into a thundering scowl. “Don’t challenge me, Elizabeth. Not on this.”

  I shrug as if his fury means nothing to me. “You better get back downstairs. Your guests will soon be wondering where you are.”

  “Not until we settle this.”

  “There’s nothing to settle.”

  “Oh, yes, there is. You will never wear that dress again. Ever.” Towering over me, he crowds me against the door.

  If he thinks I’m going to allow him to intimidate me, he’s got another think coming. I push him out of the way. Going arou
nd him, I kick off my heels and turn back to glare at him. “Since when do you get to choose what I wear? You don’t own me, Gabriel.”

  “Oh, yes, I do. You’re mine.”

  “No, I don’t. I belong to no man.” I head toward the bathroom. “I’m taking a shower, so you need to leave.”

  Before I know it, he‘s on me, ripping off my beautiful dress. “There. You’ll never wear it again.”

  Almost in tears, I stand in the ruins of the gown that cost me a week’s pay. “You bastard. I paid good money for that dress.” As well as the torn lacy bra which now lays in tatters on the floor.

  “I’ll draw you a check.”

  “I don’t want your money.” I push at his chest. “I don’t want anything from you.” I push again. “Now get the hell out of my room.”

  For a second, we stand toe to toe, with him looming over me. And then his mouth contorts in pain, and just like at the hotel, he crumbles to his knees.

  Oh, shit. Another migraine.

  I run to the night table, pour water into a glass. By the time I return he’s holding his medicine vial in a trembling hand.

  “Here.” I grab it from him, tip a pill into his hand.

  He takes the glass from me and swallows.

  “How long before the medicine takes effect?”

  “Fifteen minutes.”

  Dropping to the floor, I cradle his head against me. “We can’t keep doing this.”

  “Oh, I don’t know, the vista from here is pretty nice.”

  His head’s lying on my lap, and I’m naked from the waist up. “Yeah, you have a prime viewing seat to my great tits.”

  He chuckles, but then his mouth twists. “Oww. Don’t make me laugh.”

  “Fine.” I brush his hair back. “Is this okay?”

  “Yes. I could lie like this forever.”

  “Gabriel, you must see a doctor. This week.”

  “I will.”

  “Really?” To say I’m surprised is an understatement.

  “Yes. I’ll make an appointment for the middle of the week.”

  “Good.”

  We remain like that for several minutes, breathing in and out, together. He turns sideways right into my belly. “I love how you smell—gardenias, woman, you.”