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

shower spray; at the same time he swung

her around and slammed the front of her body against the copper-lined shower.

Victoria’s hands slapped against the wall.

“You promised,” he gritted, water filling his mouth, burning his eyes, his chest, his thighs, every inch of

his flesh that touched Victoria. “You promised not to touch me.”

But she had touched him.

She had opened her body and taken his fingers and his cock until the darkness of pending orgasm

disappeared inside the blinding flash of her pleasure.

“I promised I wouldn’t touch you last night,” Victoria gasped into the pounding water, bracing herself

against the copper wall, “and I didn’t. I kept my promise to you, Gabriel.”

But she hadn’t kept her promise. She had touched him with her passion and her pleasure.

I see you, Gabriel. . .

But she hadn’t seen him.

She hadn’t seen the boy who had begged beggars or the whore who had begged a man.

Gabriel could feel Victoria’s fear, smell it over her desire—she had been afraid when she stepped into

the bathroom. It had been her fear that had told him what she planned.

She planned on freeing an angel. But he wasn’t an angel.

He was a nameless piece of shit that had wanted more, dared more, and had paid the price.

Gabriel pressed against Victoria, fingers circling the softness of her upper arms, thighs cupping her

buttocks, the length of his cock sandwiched between her crevice, hair clinging to them both, hers, his. He

let her feel his hardness, his strength.

Her vulnerability.

“Is this what you want, Victoria?” he crooned. The shower scourging his skin.

Victoria turned her face in profile, right cheek riding slippery copper. Water streamed off his face,

coursed down her left cheek, plastered her hair to her scalp, a shell-like ear, a fragile neck.

“Yes,” she said. Still not giving in to her fear. “I want you to touch me.”

He had touched her last night, but it hadn’t been enough.

For her. For him.

“How do you want me to touch you, Victoria?” he murmured seductively. Knowing how to please;

knowing how to hurt. He did not know how to love. Whores didn’t love. “Do you want me to touch you

like I touched a woman, or do you want me to touch you like I touched a man?”

Water spiked Victoria’s lashes, rained down her cheek. “Is there a difference?”

Steam twined around them.

Evocative. Provocative.

“Women are softer.” Gabriel brushed Victoria’s ear with his lips— she had a small ear, dainty, infinitely

vulnerable. It scorched his lips; the crevice between her buttocks squeezed the length of his cock. “They

bruise more easily.”

Victoria stiffened at the light kiss, suspicious of his gentleness. An angel bearing gifts ...

“Men are harder, more muscled.” Gabriel delicately tasted the rim of her ear, the core of her ear, a hot

plunge of his tongue. Water coursed down his face, his chin, dribbled onto her shoulder. “They like it

rougher. Shall I be rough with you, Victoria?”

“Was the man who made you beg rough with you, Gabriel?” Victoria challenged, water-blackened hair

clinging to his lips.

Gabriel gritted his teeth in memory.

The second man had not been rough, but his accomplice had been. Gabriel had welcomed the pain.

Victoria would not welcome pain.

But that was all Gabriel could give her.

“Does the thought of men fucking men excite you?” he asked softly, deliberately crude.

It had excited the women Gabriel had been with in the past. They had sought a fair-haired angel to

compare with a dark-haired angel.

But Michael was the angel; only he could show a woman angels. Gabriel had shown them the darkness

of desire.

“He raped you,” Victoria insisted to the steam and the streaming water.

Innocent. As Michael was innocent.

Hungry. As Gabriel could never be.

“Two men raped me,” he rejoined silkily, nuzzling her cheek, heartbeat pounding in his fingers that

banded her arms, his chest that cradled her narrow spine, the length of his cock that rode the crevice

between her buttocks.

“But one man gave you pleasure,” Victoria doggedly persisted.

Damn her.

“Yes,” Gabriel agreed softly.

One man had brought him pain; the second man had brought him pleasure.

He could have withstood the pain. He had not withstood the pleasure. It would taint Gabriel forever.

And she knew it, this woman who had been sent by the man who one by one had peeled away the

layers of an angel until there had been nothing left.

Angels did not beg, but he had made Gabriel beg.

Victoria strained against Gabriel—to see him, to touch him, to be a part of him, he who had fought so

long to remain apart from anyone. “I want to know!”

Gabriel had wanted to know. . . what a full stomach felt like, so that he could hunger for more than food.

He had wanted to know what it felt like to be warm, so that he could covet more than shoes and clothing.

He had wanted to know what it felt like to have a home, a place he wouldn’t have to fight other beggars

over.

Curiosity killed: love. Hope .. .

Gabriel contoured Victoria’s ear with the tip of his tongue; the length of his cock was snug between the

cheeks of her buttocks. The tears he could not cry leaked from the tip of his crown. “What do you want