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

Do you want to know how pain can become pleasure, Victoria?” he whispered.

Dying inside. Dying outside.

Cock throbbing. Past overcoming the present.

“Yes.” Victoria gulped air. Water. His cock. “Yes, I do.”

Gabriel had not begged until the pain had turned into pleasure. But Victoria would not understand that

until she herself experienced it.

All of a sudden he wanted her to understand. He wanted her to be a part of him.

He wanted her to forgive what he could never forgive.

Grasping her right hip, Gabriel slid his left hand forward, fingers slippery wet with cream and water,

searching ... finding.

Her clitoris pulsed between his thumb and forefinger, a woman’s most sensitive flesh, softer than silk.

She was hard—as hard as Gabriel was now. As hard as he had been made to be in the past.

Victoria convulsively jerked, quivered, stilled, realizing how one man could make rape painful while

another man made it pleasurable.

“Gabriel,” she whispered, water coursing down her cheek.

Last night she had come for him ten times. Each time she had cried out her pleasure, the internal

contractions of her portail had squeezed his heart.

“Would you cry for an angel, Victoria?” he murmured.

“Yes,” she said unsteadily, heart pounding inside her body. Or perhaps it was his heartbeat that pounded

inside her body.

The water rivuleting down Victoria’s cheek was salty. Tears for an angel.

Gabriel gently thrust inside Victoria; at the same time he pumped her engorged clitoris, as if it were a

miniature penis.

It throbbed. Like he had throbbed.

Wrapping his right arm about her waist, Gabriel held Victoria against him while he squeezed her and

pumped her until both her flesh and his flesh swelled beyond endurance. Until the need for orgasm was

greater than the need to breathe.

And then he let her go. Hovering on the brink of release. His flesh sliding inside her body, against her

body.

And there was nothing she could do to reach climax.

“Would you beg an angel, Victoria?” Gabriel whispered, fingers hovering over her engorged clitoris that

screamed to be touched while he filled her so deeply he touched the very core of the woman who was

Victoria Childers.

With pain. With pleasure.

A woman whose only sin was in wanting an angel.

“Beg me, Victoria,” he said gently.

Like Gabriel had begged in the end.

Fear suddenly contorted her water-sluiced face.

Victoria realized that her body was an apparatus: an object that could be made to feel pleasure whether

she wanted to or not. She could never solely claim ownership again.

“No!” she gasped.

Too late.

Her pain and her pleasure wrapped around Gabriel’s testicles.

She strained for the release he had not allowed her even as she fought to regain control of her body.

He did not allow her that, either.

Any moment now she would beg, as Gabriel had begged.

And she would never see light again.

Contrarily Gabriel didn’t want Victoria to beg. He didn’t want her to live with the knowledge of how

easily her body could become a weapon.

He didn’t want her to see darkness when he touched her.

The second man had given him a woman: if Victoria died because of her desire to touch an angel, he

could at least give her pleasure worth dying for.

Stepping, turning, penis slipping and sliding internally—flesh slipping and sliding against flesh externally—

Gabriel carefully turned Victoria so that she faced the side of the shower wall. He tightly instructed her, “

Turn the Liver Spray cock.”

He did not have to tell her why.

Victoria leaned forward.

The pain and the pleasure of her motion squeezed the air out of his lungs. He couldn’t stop it: the pain,

the pleasure. Gabriel felt each twist of Victoria’s wrist, as if she turned his cock instead of the valve cock,

slippery penis sliding inside the fist-tight heat of her body a quarter of an inch, outside a half inch, inside a

pulse-stopping inch.

A shock of hot water squirted the top of his foot.

“Angle the spray up,” Gabriel said raggedly, holding on to her waist and to his sanity.

He did not recognize his voice. Did Victoria?

She clumsily positioned the spray.

Gently Gabriel walked her closer—penis slipping, sliding, her internal muscles caressing, nipping, two

bodies acting as one—until her pelvis pressed against the shower spray and water needled her swollen

clitoris.

“Oh, my... Gabriel!”

Surprise, pleasure, then pending orgasm flavored Victoria’s cry.

There had been no joy in Gabriel’s release.

Squeezing his eyelids shut and throwing his head up into the spray, Gabriel grasped both of Victoria’s

hips and thrust so far up inside her that her buttocks cushioned his groin and there was no pending death, no

lurking memories, no second man. Just two bodies made one.

The shock of his entry was upstaged by the force of Victoria’s orgasm. Her muscles clenched about him

until Gabriel gritted his teeth, surrounded by hot water, slippery flesh.

A woman’s softness.

A man’s need.

Gabriel pumped his flesh into Victoria and held her so that she would gain maximum pleasure from both

his penetration and the spray of water. He felt her second orgasm before she did.

“Gabriel, please . . . Don’t!” Victoria cried.

Gabriel had cried, a twenty-six year old man who had never before cried. Please. Stop.

It had not stopped the second man.

He buried his face into the nook of Victoria’s neck, seeking solace in the wet slickness