“Valentina,” he moans, “suck me already or zip me up.”
He’s giving me a choice? Emotion clogs up my chest. I swallow and look up to catch his expression. He’s looking down at me with something like hope and acceptance. He’ll take whatever I’m prepared to give.
He strokes my hair, his big hand cupping the back of my head. “Take only what you want.”
At the verbal confirmation, my fear vanishes. He’ll let me stop. He won’t hold it against me. I lick my lips to moisten them, uncertain how to proceed. I’ve never done this without force.
“However you want,” he whispers. “There’s no right or wrong way.”
I inch to the edge of the bed, taking his cock in both hands. Holding him close to my mouth, I flick out my tongue to taste him. A strangled grunt escapes when I lick over the crest. He tastes of earth and sea, a mixture of fertile soil and salty air, and I love it. I lick down to the base to see if it’s the same, and when I suck a testicle into my mouth the heady taste intensifies.
“Fuck. Goddammit.”
He threads his fingers through my hair, but he doesn’t pull. He’s holding onto me for support as I take his control. The knowledge gives me more power, and it makes me brave. I slicken the whole shaft with my tongue, using my saliva as a lubricant for my hands. I grip his girth firmly, one hand above the other, and move my fists down while pushing my lips over him.
“Ah, fuck.” Air wheezes through his teeth. “Yes.”
I suck him into my mouth, hollowing my cheeks, and running my tongue over the head.
He buries his fingers deeper in my hair. “Yes, beautiful, just like that.”
When I glide my hands up and down his length where my mouth doesn’t reach, he grows even thicker in my mouth. His hold on my hair tightens, and his ass clenches. “Pull out if you don’t want to swallow.”
I don’t want to give my power away, yet. He’s letting me do what I want with him, and his cock is jerking in my mouth. He’s close. I want to take him all the way. There’s agony in his eyes. I recognize the look, know the depth of that kind of pleasure. I felt it at his hands, lips, tongue, and teeth. I open my throat and take him deep, breathing through my nose.
His jaw clenches as he grunts out his pleasure while warm jets coat my tongue. He holds my head in the gentle vice of his palms as he empties himself. Keeping his hips still, he lets me suck him dry rather than moving between my lips. I take every drop like I earned it, drinking down the dizzying cocktail of male ecstasy and feminine power.
Looking spent, he bends over and leans our foreheads together while he catches his breath. I’m still floating on a cloud of warm satisfaction knowing I pleased a man like him, when he tilts my head and crushes our lips together. He kisses me fiercely, tangling our tongues, and sucking my bottom lip into his mouth. When he finally lets go, I’m breathless.
His eyes crinkle in the corners. “You taste good with my cum on your tongue.”
A wave of heat creeps up my neck and spreads to my cheeks.
He chuckles and kisses my forehead. “Zip me up.”
I bend to pull up his underpants and pants. There are more scars on his leg, but I don’t linger there. For now, I’m concentrating on adjusting the clothes over his cock. He’s still semi-hard. The velvet feel of his warm skin is pleasantly erotic. He catches my hand and moves it away, finishing the task of zipping his pants up himself. He plants a warm, wet kiss on my mouth and pushes me down to the mattress with a hand wrapped around my neck. For a second he stays like that, watching me, and then he lets go.
“Not yet,” he says, as if to himself. “Good night, Valentina.”
Then, like last night, he’s gone.
* * *
It’s ten when I go up to Gabriel’s room to make his bed. By now, he’d have finished his morning workout and shower. He’d be working in his study. As I’m pulling the sheets over the mattress, the bathroom door opens, and he steps out with a towel tied around his waist, his hair wet and droplets running down his chest.
I gulp and almost choke on my saliva. Heat gathers in my underwear as my imagination completes the picture hidden under the towel. A slow smile spreads over his face. He twists his head, hiding the scars from me, and walks to the dressing room.
“Shall I make the bed?” I ask in a small voice.
He turns to watch me, letting his eyes slide over my dress, making me feel naked. “Unless you have other ideas?”