Harrison

I go quiet, and eventually Gabriella lifts her gaze to meet mine.

“Your ex cheated on you with your sister,” I state flatly.

“Yeah.” Her lips twist. “A double betrayal.”

I can only stare at her for a while. Colette told me that Gaby took the breakup with Alex badly. I’ve been having trouble understanding why. The dickhead cheated on her, for a start, and it doesn’t sound as if she was madly in love with him. Now, though, it makes more sense. From what she’s been saying, it sounds as if things were going downhill, and maybe Gaby would have eventually concluded that it was over, but for the bastard to sleep with her sister… And for this Mel to sleep with her sister’s boyfriend…

“Holy shit,” I say eventually. “That’s fucking awful.”

“Yeah.” She sips her wine to cover her emotion. “I took it really hard.” She swallows, then lifts her chin, a lovely little gesture that tells me she’s determined not to let it get her down any longer. “The thing is, I blamed them both, but now I’ve cooled down I can see the signs I was blind to at the time. About a year ago, Alex and I had a God-awful row about something, and I walked out and went around to Mel’s. She told me then that I had to be careful or I’d lose him. I had a go at her for being so negative—I wanted her to tell me it was all his fault. But she was right, in a way.”

“Were they sleeping together then?”

“I don’t think so. I think it started a few months after that. But it might have been the beginning. Don’t glare—I know you think there’s no excuse for cheating. I’m just saying I should have seen it coming. I know now, after being with you, that whatever had been there between us in the beginning had… faded, I suppose, if not vanished completely. I know you have to work at a relationship to make it work, but I was caught up in everyday life stuff, and I suppose I just thought he’d always be there, you know?”

After being with you. What she means is that this is exciting, especially for someone who’s never had a one-night stand. She’s only ever slept with one person, for Christ’s sake. She hasn’t just stepped out of her comfort zone, she’s practically moved to the next country, so of course it’s going to be exciting.

Even so, I discover I’m strangely pleased by her comment.

She looks sad, though, and that irritates me. I don’t want her to be sad about her ex. I want to smash his face in, and have her do a victory dance around him.

“He should have talked to you about it,” I tell her. “Or broken up with you. Not cheated on you. That wasn’t your fault, Gaby, and you don’t deserve that.”

She reaches up and touches my face. “You’re very sweet.”

My eyebrows rise. “I don’t think anyone’s ever called me that before.”

“Well, you are. Sweet… and very, very sexy. I’ve had a fantastic evening.”

“So far.” My body has had enough time to recover from our heated session, and desire is starting to stir again as my gaze slips down her naked body. Her breasts and thighs are shining in the moonlight, and her nipples are plump and full. I want to suck them to tight peaks, nice and hard, so it makes her squeal and wriggle beneath me.

Her lips have parted, and I know she can see the passion in my eyes. “I might not be able to keep you as a sex slave for a whole month,” I tell her. “I’m sure I can manage it for one night though.”

She moistens her lips with the tip of her tongue and shivers.

I put my glass on the bedside table, lift up, and move over her, so I’m looking down on her.

“You said it,” I remind her. “‘Fuck me all night if you want, any way you want,’ wasn’t that what you said?”

“Um…”

“You said ‘use me. Make me your sex slave.’ Or am I remembering that wrong?”

“No,” she whispers. “I did say that.”

“Have you changed your mind?”

She gives a little smile, and a shy look. “No.”

She’s all highlights and shadows in this moonlit night, and it makes me itch to get my camera out and take some classy black-and-white shots. I’ve been a keen photographer since I was a kid, and she’s framed perfectly, with her silky brown hair pooling on the bed, and her breasts and the swell of her hips painted silver. She stirs on the bed, sliding her thighs together, and I know she’s feeling turned on, too, at this little fun game we’re playing.

I place her glass on the bedside table, and then take her hands in mine. Slowly, I move them above her head, and pin them there.

“You’re mine,” I tell her, looking into her eyes. “You belong to me.”

“Yes,” she whispers.

“Just for tonight, I own you. I’m going to do whatever I want to your body, and you’re not going to stop me.” Holding both of her hands with one of mine, I slide the other down over her breasts, stopping to tug her nipples on the way, over her tummy, and down over her soft skin to between her legs. She’s still a little swollen and slippery from her earlier orgasms, and my fingers slide easily down through her folds and inside her.

“Aaahhh,” she says, and when I circle my thumb across her clit, she shudders.

“Are you sure about this?” I say, my voice sounding husky, even to me. “Because if you’re not, feel free to get up and leave now. But if you stay, you’re telling me that it’s okay for me to fuck you whatever way I choose, until you’re so exhausted you beg me to stop.”

I’m half playing with her. I do want to fuck her again. And again. And again, if I have the energy. But although the alpha thing is fun to play at in bed, a woman always has the final say. I’d never force her to do anything she didn’t want to do. Good sex is about testing boundaries and trying new things, and both parties should always have the option to back away if they want to. But sometimes we need a little… persuasion, and I’m happy to help, if that’s what she needs.

She gives me a helpless look. “I’m not going. I want to stay.”

I remove my fingers from her, bring them up to my mouth, and lick them. “Good,” I say smugly, and bend and kiss her.