Page 116 of Dirty Pool

Gabbie made the sweetest sounds when she was being loved. Breathless, and high, he thought. Her soft moans echoed in his ears as he kissed down her clenching stomach, stopping only long enough to let his tongue trace her navel.

Then, he was lower.

Widening her thighs …

Finding heaven.

His heaven was wet, and pink, and hot. She tasted like candy on his tongue, a tart sugar he couldn’t get enough of no matter how many times he got to indulge. The second his mouth encased Gabbie’s pussy, her back lifted from the bed. Her hands fisted into the sheets when he sucked on her clit, drawing the little bud between his lips to really give her that shock she seemed to like so damn much.

“Please, please …”

Michel replaced his mouth with his fingers—not that he would be able to hold himself back from getting another taste of her, but for now … He worked her clit with two fingers, rubbing tight little circles into the nub as another two fingers slid into her tight sex.

“What do you want, Gabbie? Tell me.”

“Make me come. Please, make me come.”

He loved when she begged.

Loved it more when she sounded so desperate for it, too.

Nothing got him hotter.

“And then?” he demanded.

She let out a whine. “Love me.”

Yeah.

That’s what he planned to do.

His fingers kept fucking her, but he replaced his other hand on her clit with his mouth again. A steady, hard beat with his tongue took her over the edge faster than he thought it would, but he wasn’t about to complain.

“God,” Gabbie mumbled, her face turning into the pillow. “Love you.”

More than she would ever know.

Michel couldn’t shed his clothes fast enough, but once he was naked, and his cock was covered in the condom he found in his pant pocket, he was back between her thighs again. Pushing in deep and taking her slow. Instead of fingernails scoring down his back, he got her fingertips making lazy circles over his shoulders as he loved her. The gentle rocking of their bodies wasn’t the roughness that usually accompanied their sex, but it didn’t need to be, either.

He had all the time in the word for fast and hard later.

Right now, he just wanted to love.

• • •

It was only once Michel was sure that his wife was out for the rest of the evening that he finally crawled out of the bed, and away from her. Although, a part of him was still there, tucked into her side and feeling her heart beat under his palm. He’d get back to her soon enough, and she wouldn’t even realize he’d left the bed at all.

Michel snatched the phone up from the bedside table and slipped out of the bedroom with quiet steps. In the darkness of the connecting room, he stared at the screen of his phone before turning it on, and scrolling through the contacts.

It was too late.

A little after eleven, now.

His parents hated late calls.

Michel put the phone to his ear, and waited as it began to ring through. Like an echo reverberating through his very bones, he swore it sounded like it was whispering now or never, boy. He shouldn’t be this nervous, but here he was, feeling exactly that.

“Michel, it is way too late for you to be calling me,” he heard his father grumble as soon as Dante picked up the call.