Raising his head instead, he took both of her hands and put them on his shoulders, then eased her trembling thigh down from his shoulder. Lips parted and kiss-swollen, pupils dilated against the hazel of her irises, Charlotte watched him as he moved his own hands down to undo his belt, lower the zipper.
“Get the condoms,” he said, wanting to make dead sure she hadn’t changed her mind, was with him.
Her pulse skittered in her neck, but she turned to reach for the briefcase he’d left on another chair, one of her bra straps falling down her arm as she did so. He loved how thoroughly used she already looked, all mussed and flushed and with red marks on her inner thighs from his stubble.
While she opened the briefcase, he kept himself busy by releasing his cock.
“Where are they?” A husky question.
“Inside pocket, left side.” Having given that instruction, he spread her thighs wider and suckled a kiss on the sensitive skin beside her knee while running his finger through her slickness again. Plump and wet and his, she was fucking beautiful.
Her nails dug into his shoulder. “Gabriel.” It was a moan.
“Condoms.” Biting at the taut flesh of her thigh, he licked, looked up to find her clutching the box in her hand.
He took it from her, then drew in her hand and tucked it between her thighs. “Keep yourself wet for me.”
A choked half laugh. “I don’t think I could be any more ready than I already am.”
“Not ready, Ms. Baird.” Tearing the box apart, he scattered flat packets all over her kitchen floor. “Deliciously wet, slick and honey sweet. Say it.”
“I’m….” She licked her lips.
That was it.
Having sheathed himself during the course of her hesitation, he pulled her forward and onto his lap but held her above him. No way was he just ramming into her like he’d imagined—that would come later, when Charlotte was ready to handle the rougher side of his sexuality. Right now, it was about teaching her that his touch meant pleasure. No matter how gentle he was, or how rough, he’d always, always give her pleasure, never pain.
“Put your arms around my neck.” Sliding his hands down to cup her ass after she obeyed his order, her fingers curling into his hair, he rubbed the blunt tip of his cock against her opening. “Control how much of my cock you take,” he gritted out, his body ready to pump into her.
“Gabriel, may I please have a kiss?”
Hearing the vulnerability, he immediately lifted his face to hers, their mouths meeting in a sinful, hot, Charlotte kiss. He let her take what she needed, his hands cupping and squeezing the lush curves of her. Charlotte might be small, but she was built in sweet, curvy proportion. “Better?” he asked when she broke the kiss, one hand on the side of his neck, the other still in his hair.
“Yes.” A quiet word, their breaths intermingled. Then, eyes locked with his, she sank down an inch onto him. The hitch in her breath mingled with his groan. When she said, “More,” he almost lost it.
Deliberately reciting rugby statistics in his head, he said, “Ask me to fuck you, Charlotte.”
Her chest rose in a ragged inhale. “I can’t.”
“Yes, you can,” he coaxed. “I know you know bad words. All good girls do.”
She sank another inch onto him, her eyes fluttering shut. “I don’t know how to talk that way in bed.”
The shy confession blew the statistics out of the water. “Do it with me,” he said, pulling out all the way by lifting her off him, then teasing her with his eager cock. “Say ‘Fuck me, Gabriel.’” The idea of those words falling from her lips shredded his remaining control. The only reason he didn’t snap was because the need to protect her was stronger than his lust, stronger than anything.
Charlotte sank down on him without warning, taking a couple of inches before he could stop her. As she cried out at the pressure, he locked his spine against the searing pleasure of her scalding grip. “Naughty, Ms. Baird.” Sweat stuck his shirt to his back. “Three words and you can have what you want. All of it.” He lifted her off him again, to her frustrated cry.
Bringing her back down, he pushed into her slowly, lifting her off at the halfway mark. It was self-inflicted torture and it was amazing. “You are so tiny, Charlotte.” It fucking turned him on how easily he could handle her, position her. “Am I hurting you?” Because the handling was only fun if she was with him.
“No,” she whispered and pressed her cheek to the stubbled roughness of his own. “Fuck me, Gabriel.”
Oh Jesus!
Gritting his teeth against the impact of that breathy request, he gave her control again. “As slow or as fast as you want.” He had no doubts she could take him, but he had to be gentle until she was used to his size. He figured it’d be easier for her to take the reins this time—but Charlotte kind of froze on him when he said the words.
He immediately put his hands back on her, realizing his sexy Ms. Baird wasn’t yet confident enough to take him up on his offer. “Then again”—he sucked on the skin above her pulse, hard enough to leave a mark and make her groan—“I do like being the boss.”
More kisses to coax her to melting softness against him once more. “But you’ll tell me if it hurts. Understood?”
A nod against him, her body quivering.
Gripping her under her thigh with one hand to give her extra support, he pinched her clit between the thumb and forefinger of his other hand. She cried out, sank deeper on him. His cock ached, his entire body burning up from the inside, but there was no way he was messing this up. Circling his thumb around the slippery nub he’d pinched, he let her take him at her own pace.