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

eyes or darker blue eyes?”

Gabriel did not pretend to misunderstand her. “Yours, Victoria.”

Locked, her knees still almost collapsed with relief.

“I’m hungry, Victoire,” Gabriel said deliberately. “Can you feed me?”

Two words simultaneously registered with Victoria. Her French name Victoire, and hungry.

Her pupils dilated with sudden recall.

How to seduce a man .. .

When he’s hungry, feed him.

But she hadn’t brought up any food.

She looked down into Gabriel’s eyes and realized it wasn’t food he desired.

“I only have . .. ananas, I’m afraid.”

Pineapples. A French term for a woman’s breasts.

Gabriel released her wrists and sat up, mattress shifting, springs squeaking, knees bumping her thighs,

wool-trousered legs spreading, gripping her. “Feed me.”

Hands shaking with sudden need, Victoria reached into the plunging black satin corset and lifted her

breast. Her nipple was hard.

Leaning over, she offered it to Gabriel, her breast, her nipple, her passion rather than her virtue.

Dark lashes shielding his eyes, Gabriel nuzzled her, cheeks slightly prickly, hair softer than silk.

Every time Victoria orgasmed, she created another memory for him, he had said. Victoria would always

remember the texture and the scent and the taste of the man who had named himself after an angel.

A tongue licked her, tasted her, texture wet and scratchy.

Victoria shuddered at the near-painful sensation that stabbed through her womb. She could not help

herself—she cupped the back of his head with her left hand, her breast heavy in her right hand, his hair

clinging to her fingers. And hoped that Gabriel would not pull away.

He did not.

Hands grasping the tops of Victoria’s thighs, Gabriel pulled her closer and took her breast into his mouth

and suckled her as if he fed on her flesh instead of her desire.

It took Victoria long seconds to realize that his fingers worked against her thighs to unfasten the garter

clasps on her corset even as his mouth and tongue and teeth worked against her breast.

No sooner did Victoria’s stockings slip down her thighs than Gabriel tackled her corset, fingers tugging,

mouth tugging. A familiar pressure tugged at her womb.

Victoria’s corset slipped over her shoulders ...

Gabriel freed her nipple with a slight slurping sound. His cheeks were flushed, his mouth wet. The gaze

looking up at hers was silver with need. “Tell me about angels, Victoria.”

When he hurts, offer him hope.

But she didn’t know about angels, she only knew about Gabriel. She didn’t know the words to give him

hope.

The story her mother had read to Victoria the child reverberated inside her ears. And suddenly she did

know the words to give Gabriel hope.

I k now it because... I k now my own flower well.

“Whenever a good child dies,” Victoria the woman stepped back and slid the corset over her arms; her

stockings pooled around her ankles, “an angel comes down from heaven and takes the child into his arms.”

Gabriel reached for the top button on his bloodstained shirt, a man, not a child. His silver gaze clung to

her every word.

Wanting to hope. Wanting to be loved.

“The angel spreads out great white wings,” Victoria dropped the corset, a soft swish of satin impacting

wool carpet, “and flies the child over all the places he loved during his life.”

With a quick jerk, mattress squeaking, Gabriel pulled his shirt over his head. Dark blond hair curled

around a dark pap.

Gabriel’s nipples were hard, as Victoria’s nipples were hard.

She reached out and lightly touched him.

Gabriel flinched, but did not jerk away.

Victoria straightened, breath coming more quickly. She drew upon all the discipline it had required

teaching other women’s children, hoping it would be enough to get her through the coming minutes, hours,

lifetime . ..

“The angel explains to the child as he flies him about that he gathers up flowers to take to heaven so that

they may bloom more brightly in heaven than they do on earth.”

Gabriel stood up and unfastened his trouser buttons.

He did not wear drawers.

Victoria licked lips that suddenly felt thicker, fuller. “ ‘The Almighty,’ he says,” Victoria said, “ ‘presses

the flowers to His heart, but He kisses the flower that pleases Him best, and it receives a voice, and is able

to join the song of the chorus of bliss .. .’ ”

Dark blond hair filled the widening vent.

Victoria jerked her head up. Only to stare at the top of Gabriel’s bowed head as he jerked his trousers

down.

“ ‘These words were spoken by the angel, as he carried the child up to heaven ...”

Straightening, Gabriel kicked off his trousers.

He was naked with no stockings snagged at his ankles or slippers hiding his feet.

He had beautiful feet.

Between one heartbeat and another he dropped down onto his knees before Victoria, moist breath

scorching her stomach. He tugged her left foot up.

Victoria floundered, falling, hands grabbing a head, hair silky soft, no purchase there; hands grabbing

shoulders, instead, muscles tensed beneath smooth skin . . .

Gabriel’s naked skin pulsed beneath her fingertips. He reared his head back. His breath kissed her lips. “

Tell me more, Victoria.”

Tell him how a child’s fairy tale could help a man who had never been told fairy tales as a child.

Victoria stared into Gabriel’s eyes and tasted Gabriel’s breath. Leaning over him. Caught by his need

and her position.

She told him more. “The angel and the child passed over well-known spots,”—Gabriel pulled off her left

slipper, her