The final inches made her shudder, her flesh so tightly stretched around his girth that when he ran his finger around the tightness, she gave a little scream and came in hard pulses that threatened to milk him dry.
He had no idea how he managed to last until the erotic ripples of her body eased enough that he could lift her off him, then bring her back down as he thrust into her. It was harder than he’d intended, but Charlotte just held on tighter, her breaths hot against his ear. “Gabriel, please. Gabriel.”
“I’ve got you.” He lifted her again, thrust in deeper and faster. “I’ve got you.” A final stroke before his balls drew up against his body, his muscles locked in an orgasm that punched through him harder than the hardest tackle he’d ever taken on the field.
30
DIRTY TALK WITH A T-REX
CHARLOTTE WASN’T QUITE SURE how she’d ended up lying on top of Gabriel’s bare chest on the sofa, the bodice of her dress mostly buttoned, but it was so very nice and warm and wonderful that she just snuggled in. Eyes heavy, she pressed a kiss to the skin under her and ran her hand down his lightly furred chest, stopping to trace the intricate lines of the tattoo that covered his pectoral muscle. “This is so beautiful.”
“I think the word you’re looking for is manly.” A rumble of sound under her, Gabriel’s hand on her bare butt.
Smiling, she kissed him again, licked up the taste of salt on his skin.
“Did it work?”
Nuzzling at him, she ran her foot down his leg—which was half-hanging off the end of the sofa—and frowned at the feel of fabric under her. “You didn’t take off your pants.” That seemed vaguely dirty, that he’d… fucked her without taking off his pants.
“If I take off my pants, I’ll be inside you again in about ten seconds.”
Skin tingling, she rubbed her cheek against him. “I won’t mind.” He’d felt so good inside her, so hard and thick and hot. But he’d felt even better around her, warm and big and protective.
Gabriel petted her ass, unabashed in his enjoyment of her body. “So it worked.”
This time she understood. “Yes.” The scars had been well and truly cut out. “I really like being with you.”
He made a deep sound in his chest and stroked her hair off her face. Only then did she realize it was out of its bun. But that was fine, wonderful… until he fisted his hand in her hair and tugged up her head. Terror screamed to life in her blood, making her lungs strain, black spots dancing in front of her eyes.
Shoving at him, she would’ve fallen off the sofa if Gabriel hadn’t curled his arm around her waist. “Charlotte!”
She wrenched even harder, and this time she managed to get off—to fall hard onto her tailbone. The shock of pain snapped through the panic, had her staring up at Gabriel as he sat up on the sofa, his hand reaching out toward her. “Are you hurt?”
She shook her head in a quick, jerky movement. She’d ruined it. It had been beautiful and she’d ruined it. Humiliated and sad and angry, she got up onto her knees, then scrambled to her feet. “You should go.” She couldn’t meet his eyes, wanted only to curl up into a ball and rock herself through the pain.
He caught her hand, tugged. “Come here, Ms. Baird.”
“No. I need to be alone.” Her voice broke.
Gabriel curled his fingers more firmly around her hand. “Come here. Just a couple of steps.”
She didn’t realize she was moving until she was beside his leg. Sliding his arm around her waist, he pulled her down onto his lap. “There, you’re back where you’re meant to be.”
Charlotte crumpled into him. “I want to be fixed,” she whispered. “I want to be normal. I want you not to have to worry about every touch.” He’d been so careful during the sex, his muscles and tendons rigid with control.
“I had a hell of a good time.” He settled back into the sofa, one of his hands on her thigh, the other spread on her lower back. “Did you not feel me inside you?”
“You had to think throughout it.” She sat up, twisted to face him. “Don’t lie.”
“I’d always have been thinking our first time together—you’re damn small, Ms. Baird, and I’m a big man.” He cupped the side of her face. “No matter how much I want to pin you down and ram into you, I would never have done it the first time—or the second. We’ll build up to it.”
Charlotte didn’t know how to respond. The blunt sexual words, his determination, the tenderness with which he touched her, it all overwhelmed.
“But Charlotte,” Gabriel said when she stayed silent, “you are hurt deep inside. Have you ever talked to anyone about what happened to you?”
Charlotte gave a jerky nod. “Right after, I did.”
“And?”
“After about six months, I started to feel guilty for taking up the therapist’s time when I wasn’t getting better, so I stopped going to see her.” The smart, well-dressed, and together woman had made her feel so small, her impatience hidden but obvious to Charlotte.
Gabriel snapped out a low, hard word. “That therapist was incompetent if she made you feel that way.”
CHARLOTTE WANTED TO BELIEVE him. “I don’t know if I can talk to a stranger,” she whispered. “It was so hard to tell you, and I trust you.”
Gabriel gently stroked her thigh. “I know someone,” he said. “A doctor I talked to after my injury.”