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His hands hook beneath my ass and haul me up his torso. I’m not prepared and we’re a little graceless at first, but soon, I’m clinging to him like a koala bear. Gabe takes the half-dozen steps needed to circle the wide wooden bench and lowers himself to the seat.
I adjust my legs so that I’m straddling him, and his hands immediately slide up my waist, then north to my breasts. He stops just beneath the curve, and I whimper.
“Need something?”
The happy half-smile is gone, and in its place, a sexy smirk. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and knowing Gabriel from the boardroom, he probably wants me to beg.
The way my clit is currently lined up against the bulge in his slacks, a trace amount of pressure and friction, well, I’m more than ready to plead my case. It’s been way too long since my last orgasm, and I’m wound tighter than a spring.
“Your hands, everywhere.”
He rests a forearm against the armrest and extends the other along the back to the bench. “Like this?”
His blue eyes sparkle with mischief, and I growl. By taking his hands away, my neediness multiplies.
“Gabriel. . .” His name is a demand on my tongue.
“Princess. . .” He matches my tone, and my insides clench.
“On me. I want your hands on me.”
He cocks his head, that keen gaze so thorough in his assessment I swear I almost come. Just a small orgasm because he’s making a study of me. Knowing me and understanding me, and holy hell, Gabriel’s undivided attention is transformative. No wonder he’s been so wildly successful.
“Want. . . or need?” he asks, his voice low, contemplative. He seems perfectly content to have me sitting in his lap, my fingers tangled in his hair.
But his cock tells a different story. He needs this. He needs me.
I lean forward and brush my mouth against his. “Need.”
He inhales sharply, and his hands return, this time sliding beneath the baggy sweatshirt to my skin. I purr, leaning in for another kiss, every cell in my body chanting the same word. Finally. Finally. Finally.
Who knew I had a secret crush on Gabriel? Or maybe it’s a not-so-secret lust.
His lips part, and his tongue darts out, spearing between my own. Pleasure shoots down my spine to take up residence between my legs. I tighten my hold, lifting ever so slightly, gliding my needy clit along his length. He groans, strong hands pressing me down against his cock like he’s using me to get off, not the other way around.
Then, it’s a duel. Hot, open-mouthed kisses that make me tingle all over.
My new panties are a damp mess, but we don’t let up. He doesn’t let me go. Doesn’t even let me come up for air. And I love it.
I love the feel of his fingertips gliding up my spine over and over, like a reverse waterfall. He’s learning me, inch by inch. And when those talented hands clasp around my waist, thumbs brushing the underside of my breasts, I rotate my hips against him, needing friction more than I need air.
A cool breeze buffets my back, lifting my hair, and I shiver. He pulls back. It takes three full seconds for me to open my eyes and meet his gaze.
“Cold?”
I nod.
He wraps his arms around me and tugs me flush against him. I duck my face against his neck, and he rubs my skin until the friction creates a delightful warmth.
Gabriel Rothburn is taking care of me. And not in a ‘sexual satisfaction’ kind of way. My heart pounds and my libido groans. Why does this closeness feel more intimate than having his tongue in my mouth?
I press a kiss against his neck, his stubble rough against my lips. I like that he’s not as polished as he normally is in his geek chic. But I love how he shudders.
“Do that again,” he whispers.
The quiet order has two immediate effects. My heart gives a happy squeeze, and my pussy clenches. He wants more, and he’s not afraid to ask for it. I file that lesson away.
I kiss the same spot. He makes a satisfied sound, and it reverberates through my nipples and zings straight to my core. Another kiss. Another groan.
