I run my finger along his brows, first the left and then the right. His face is so strong, so masculine. It's beautiful, if a man can be that. "How is it possible that you love me?"
His body shudders as he swallows. "It's impossible for me not to."
"Gabriel." I lean forward to rest my lips over his. "Don't ever stop."
***
"I should have been the one spanking you," I say breathlessly into his chest. "I didn't deserve that."
"You did." His voice is deep, husky and still filled with want. "Tonight it was a reward. I saw how wet it made you, Isla. Don't try and argue that point with me or I'll take you back over my knee."
He never technically had me over his knee in the first place.
After we got back to his penthouse, we'd sat in a chair in the living room, kissing and talking for hours. I'd asked more questions about the club and he'd answered each honestly. He helped me understand his drive to go there and the hole it had been filling within him.
I never belonged there. The scope of my experience didn't measure anywhere near his, but that night, when he saw me trying desperately to find a man to help tame my desires, he'd felt an unexplainable pull towards me.
He told me that he tried to fight it for weeks after that, but then on my birthday, when he tasted me for the first time, he lost all sight and memory of anyone else.
I believe him. I trust him. I know it's true because it's what I feel too.
He carried me to his bed after that, undressing me then. He'd licked me, and touched me, and when I tried to control his fingers on my flesh, he'd slapped my ass, over and over, all while he said my name woven into declaration of his love.
I reach down, stroking my hand over his cock. It's so long, thick. It's as beautiful and striking as he is.
"Fuck me, Gabriel," I whisper as I slide my body over his. "I want you to fuck me."
"Jesus, Isla," he hisses, his eyes closing with the words. His hands roam down my back, to my ass.
I move slightly, skimming my breasts over his chest before I kiss him, deeply, passionately.
"There are condoms in the nightstand." His arm circles my waist as he moves to the left.
I fight him, pulling him back, quieting him. "Please, just don't move."
His breathing slows as I inch back to glide my pussy over the entire length of his erection before I reach down to grab the thick root of his cock in my hand.
"Like this." I curve my body back. "Just like this. Just us."
He moans loudly as the first inch of his cock enters me, skin-on-skin, no barriers.
"You're sure." He halts my movements with both of his hands on my hips. "Isla, tell me. Tell me you're sure."
"I love you," I whisper the words into his trembling lips as I lean back, push down, and take every inch of him inside of me.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Six Months Later
Gabriel
"I've never been more proud of you than I am right now, Isla."
She turns on her heel and pulls on my tie, tugging my head down to meet hers before she crushes her beautiful mouth into mine. The kiss is fevered, lush and deep. "It's been so long since you've fucked me. Will you fuck me now?"
"We're in the middle of Central Park." I gesture around us as I glide my hands along her back, over the thin fabric of her dress. "I fucked you last night. What's gotten into you?"
"You." She taps her hand over my chest, smoothing the tie back into place. "Tonight, after work, will you fuck me in the swing?"
The swing had been a gift. I wanted it there, in the extra bedroom waiting for us the day she moved in two months ago. I'd fucked her in it, as she moved back and forth, giving herself wholly to me, as she does each and every time we're together intimately. She's as demanding as me. She loves my body, craves it, and each and every time she touches me with the unmistakable nuance of desire, I give in.
We've experimented more. She's been responsive at times, less at others, and through it all we've found exactly what works for us. Implements complement our intimacy, but they never define it.
"Tonight, after work, I'm going to ask you to marry me, Isla."
Her eyes tear, uncontrollably. Her mouth forms a small 'o.' She doesn't make a sound, She doesn't move at the approaching chime of a bicycle bell or the loud screams of children as they come racing down the paved path towards us. Time stops.
Six hours from now or this minute won't change the course of the rest of our lives. We're not typical, we're far from ordinary. Our love story is unique as the woman standing in front of me.