Harrison
I meant every word I said. I’ve never felt so determined about anything in my life. Gabriella’s ex didn’t deserve her, and I’m going to make sure that whenever she thinks about him, it’s only to compare him to me, and find him wanting.
She gives a helpless little squeak that sends heat surging through me. I crush my lips to hers, and lose myself in the kiss, in the sweetness and warmth of her mouth, as our tongues dart and slide, and she lifts her arms around my neck and presses up against me.
She might be shy, and nervous about sleeping with another guy, but she’s not reluctant. I like that. I like how she moans against my lips, and how she threads her hands through my hair. And how she pushes her hips against mine. Pinning her against the worktop, I make sure that she’s in no doubt as to how aroused I am and how much I want her as I rock my hips and press my erection against her soft mound.
I do want to take this slow and make the most of the night, but equally I want her naked. Every guy’s dilemma. I lift my head reluctantly, slip one arm behind her shoulders, then bend and scoop her up into my arms.
She squeals. “You’ll drop me!”
“Only if you wriggle. Pick up our glasses.”
She does so, and then I carry her through the living room and into my bedroom.
I tidied up earlier, just in case I got lucky, and I’m pleased now as she looks around and exclaims in delight. It’s a man’s bedroom—there are no sheer curtains or colored pillows or mobiles in the windows, but I had a designer in to decorate it, and I’m pleased with the dark, sensual burgundies and the chocolate browns, so like Gabriella’s hair.
I walk over to the window and dip her so she can place the wine glasses on the bedside table. Then I lower her feet to the floor, and let her slide down until our bodies are flush. Finally, I slide my hands beneath her pale-pink sweater. I don’t find skin though—my hands glide across something silky and slippery.
I nuzzle her neck. “Interesting. What have you got on under here?” I explore with my fingers, finding a variety of fabrics—satin, lace, ribbon, and my thumb brushes against the base of her breasts and finds the cups underwired. Holy shit, that’s hot. I love sexy lingerie.
“Mmm, Harrison…”
“Harry,” I remind her.
“I can’t call you Harry. You’re my boss.”
I laugh and start pulling her sweater up her body. “I’m also going to be your lover in about ten minutes, so I think it’s okay.”
I lift the sweater over her head, and drop it onto the chair in the corner of the room. The moon’s just visible above us, and her arms and shoulders glow in the pearly light. To my delight, she’s wearing a sexy cream bodysuit, with lace cups joined to the satin body.
“Wow.” I stand back, my hands on her hips, and admire her for a moment.
“You like?”
“I do.” My gaze returns to her face. The moon has almost bleached all the color out of the room, and she looks like a black-and-white photo, like an old-fashioned starlet. Still, I can see the blush in her cheeks as she lets me admire her.
Cupping her face, I kiss her, and then when she leans against me, splaying her hands on my chest, I move my arms around her. I slide my hands down her silky body, then forward to undo the button of her jeans.
She lets me push them down, toes off her shoes, and kicks the whole lot to one side. This time when I rest my hands on her hips they skim over the satin to her soft butt.
“Jesus.” Just the feel of her is enough to send my blood thundering through my veins. Unable to hold in a prehistoric growl of passion, I reverse her to the bed. When she meets the mattress, she falls onto her butt with a gasp.
Standing in front of her, I undo my jeans and take them off, then grab a handful of my T-shirt at the back of my neck and rip it off. Gabriella’s eyes are so wide it wouldn’t have surprised me if her eyeballs had popped out and rolled along the ground like a cartoon character’s. I would have laughed, but I’m too far gone for that. I want her, I want to taste her, I want to be inside her, and as she lies back and lifts her arms over her head, stretching out on the bed, I have to stop myself from just leaping on her and taking her in ten seconds flat.
First things, first. I climb onto the bed and lower down on top of her, and look into her eyes as our two almost-naked bodies press together. Her lips part, and she’s breathing quickly, so it seems as if she’s as turned on as I am at this moment.
I kiss her, leisurely, taking time to touch my tongue to her lips before delving it inside and tasting the sweetness of her mouth. I kiss her cheekbones and her nose, her eyebrows and eyelids, and up her jaw to her ear, where I suck the lobe into my mouth. She sighs, her hips automatically pushing up so she’s arousing herself against me. Interested in that movement, I shift so I’m lying right between her legs, and she draws up her knees. I give little thrusts, gently grinding the base of my erection through my boxers against her clit through the satin bodysuit. Gabriella moans and clenches her fingers in my hair, and I know I was right—she’s so turned on she’s close to coming. What a little sex kitten.
“Harrison…” she whispers.
“Mmm.” Delighted, I kiss her deeply, and I cup her breast and rub my thumb across her nipple. She shivers, so I do it again, more firmly this time, tugging the sensitive skin between my fingers through the satin. A few more rocks of my hips, and she braces her hands on my shoulders as if she wants me to stop, but I don’t, and then she stills, and I cover her mouth with mine and drink in her long gasps of pleasure.
When she’s done, I lift my head and look into her eyes again.
“Jeez,” she says, blushing scarlet. “I’m so sorry.”
I laugh and kiss her nose. “For what?”
“Well, you know, not being able to wait.”
“Honey, I’m flattered. The more orgasms the merrier.” I lift up, and begin to kiss down her neck. “This is a very sexy piece of lingerie. But I think it’s time to see what’s beneath it.”
I slide the strap off her shoulder and kiss the bare skin. Then I slide the other one off. Slowly, I pull them down her body, gradually revealing inch after inch of creamy skin. When I reach her breasts, I think we both hold our breath as I peel the lace from them.
Her nipples are medium sized, a pinky brown color. I rub a thumb across one, and it feels like velvet. I sigh. “Gabriella… You are perfect.”
“I’m really not,” she mumbles, and then she catches her breath as I pluck it gently until it peaks. I do the same to the other one, and when they’re hard like beads, I lower my head and take one in my mouth.
It’s difficult to describe to women how much joy their breasts bring to men. They fascinate us. I guess it’s because we don’t have them, but it goes deeper than that. I’ve heard experts say men are attracted to a shapely figure because it appeals to the prehistoric desire for a perfect mother to bear our children. I don’t know about that—I’m not interested in kids and I’ve never referred to a girl’s hips as being great for childbearing—but I get their point. It’s desire in its most primeval sense, and the caveman inside me rears up and roars as I trace my tongue around Gabriella’s nipples and take them in my mouth.
Jesus, she’s turning me feral. I’m a modern man; I’m respectful to women; I buy them dinner before I fuck them, and I always make sure they have an orgasm first. But at the moment, I feel like dragging Gabriella by her hair onto the floor, turning her onto all fours, and taking my pleasure from her beautiful body. She’s making me burn. I’m going to have to make her come again, because when I eventually let myself go, the heat inside me is going to turn us both to ashes, and there’ll be no coming back from that.