Robin Schone by Gabriel's Woman (10 ebook reader TXT) 📕

prostitute, the simple need for

human contact.

The younger man’s need was reflected in Gabriel’s face. “But it was her pleasure that milked my hand

—”

Suddenly the silver eyes reflected in the glass pinned Victoria.

She returned his stare unflinchingly.

“—not mine.”

Vaguely she noted that the man behind the glass wiped his hand on the sheet beside the woman and

reached for a small flat tin beside the squat jar of cream. It was identical to the tin of condoms that had

come with her dinner tray.

The younger man jerkily stood up and then he was standing between the older woman’s legs and she

was raising her arms and her body to take him while the man behind Victoria stood apart from their

passion. Apart from Victoria’s passion.

Apart from his own passion.

“This is what he wants,” Victoria suddenly realized.

Gabriel’s nostrils flared. “What?”

“He wants you to hurt.”

But Victoria didn’t want Gabriel to hurt.

She took both of their lives in her hand. She turned and faced their desire.

“You want to touch me,” she said. Praying that it was true.

The truth shone in his eyes. “Yes.”

Victoria’s chest constricted at the need in his eyes. “But you’re afraid.”

“Yes.”

Of touching. Of being touched.

Victoria gambled. “I want you to touch me.”

Gray. Silver.

Fear. Passion.

“I know you do,” Gabriel said.

He did not touch her.

“I want you to feel my pleasure,” Victoria said baldly. “I want to lie down on your bed, naked. Like the

woman behind the mirror. Like the woman you remembered. I want you to prepare my body. I want you to

give me the pleasure you gave her. And I want to share it with you.”

Gabriel sucked in his breath. “You’re a virgin.”

If Victoria looked away from the naked need inside those silver eyes, she would run.

Victoria didn’t look away. “You bought my virginity.”

The air pulsed around them.

“I don’t know what I would do, Victoria, if you touched me.” Gabriel’s voice was taut.

Pain. Pleasure.

They clawed at her chest.

“Then I won’t touch you,” Victoria assured him.

“But you would let me ... touch you. In whatever way I wished.”

Empétarder ... Would you grant me access there, mademoiselle?

Victoria struggled to breathe. “Yes.”

“You would let me do anything . . .”

You would let me hold you when both of our bodies are dripping with sweat and the scent of our

sex fills our lungs.

“Yes.”

“And you won’t touch me.” Gabriel’s gaze was stark with need. “Regardless of the pain or the pleasure

that I bring you.”

Victoria was suffocating—from Gabriel’s robe, Gabriel’s scent.

Gabriel’s words . .. pain . . . pleasure. . .

“I won’t touch you,” she promised.

He reached out... and touched her, a butterfly touch, a rasp of callused fingertips across chapped lips.

Erotic sensation bolted through Victoria.

“I’m sorry.” She flinched. “My lips are not. .. soft.”

Whereas his lips looked softer than a rose petal.

Gabriel would not let her turn away from him: his gaze held her; his finger electrified her.

He lightly strummed her bottom lip. “Open your mouth.”

Victoria’s bottom lip quivered.

Silver fire blazed in his eyes; a dark flush edged his cheeks. He rested his finger against the seam of her

lips.

Gabriel trembled.

With fear. With need.

Of her. For her.

Victoria opened her mouth.

“Suck my finger,” he said hoarsely.

Blue eyes locked with silver, Victoria took Gabriel’s forefinger into her mouth, a preliminary penetration.

An invisible finger stabbed up her vagina.

She tasted him, a quick swipe of her tongue.

Gabriel’s head slammed back, as if in pain. “Dieu. ”

Victoria stared at the corded muscles of his throat. A pulse pounded and throbbed, there above the vent

of his white shirt and the whirls of wiry hair.

His fingertip was callused; it tasted salty.

She suckled him, as if he were a sweet. And felt the laving of her tongue between her thighs, lips wet,

finger hard ...

Gabriel slowly lowered his head.

There was no question of what had dragged out the agonized Dieu: it was pleasure. A pleasure so

intense it was pain.

Victoria felt his pleasure, her pleasure; his pain, her pain . . .

One second she was suckling his fingertip, the next second her mouth was empty and his saliva-slickened

finger smoothed the inner edges of her chapped lips.

He kissed her. Silver eyes staring into hers; finger pressing open the corner of her mouth.

Warm breath filled her lungs, searing heat glided the path his finger had traced.

Gabriel soothed Victoria’s chapped lips with his tongue.

Hot. Wet. His tongue. His lips. A taste; a tease. A commingling of breath and saliva.

Of Gabriel and Victoria.

It was Victoria’s first kiss. She wanted more: more breath, more tongue.

More Gabriel.

Victoria curved her fingers to cradle his head and take more.

Gabriel watched the need build inside her eyes .. . and she knew this was what he waited for: he waited

for her to touch him.

But she couldn’t touch him.

Victoria closed her eyes and clenched her fists.

His tongue instantly filled her: deeper than his finger. Hotter. Wetter.

The second penetration.

Vaguely she was aware of his saliva-slickened finger that trailed up her cheek, joined by more fingers.

He lightly cupped her face while his tongue stroked and stroked ... the top of her tongue ... underneath her

tongue ... the roof of her mouth.

Oh ... dear. . . God.

Victoria sucked in cool air.

Her eyelids snapped open.

Gabriel’s tongue and fingers and breath were no longer a part of her. He stood back, watching her,

waiting for her to reach for him.

Victoria did not reach for him.

But she wanted to. Please don’t