Mr. Smithfield - Page 67

“I love fucking you,” I whispered into her ear. “I love making you tremble, making you weak, making you scream.” I loved being with her. Seeing her with Bethany. I loved sitting with her and talking. I loved . . .

“I love you fucking me too,” Autumn said breathlessly. She turned her head, looking up at me as if I were everything to her. And I wanted to give everything I had to her. She should have everything she ever wanted. And more.

I groaned, shoving deeper, clamping my hands over her hips to hold her still so I could get closer. She reached back, at nothing in particular—she wanted more. I grunted, trying to hold my orgasm off and give Autumn what she needed. I fucked harder, deeper, faster. On and on I drove into her, ignoring the clamoring of my climax rattling my bones, wanting to be let out. She froze as she reached the precipice and then began to shake as she fell over the edge, falling into my arms as she collapsed. I stilled and bent over and held her. We just stood there, London as our backdrop as our heavy breaths evened out.

I wasn’t ready for it to be over. I wanted her to know how I felt. I wanted her to know how I wished I’d met her before. Before I’d been married. I wanted to have shared our entire lives. I wanted her history. Since the instant sizzle of our first meeting, it had felt as if we were destined. As if resistance was futile, because she’d been made for me. And I existed just for her.

I straightened and she turned in my arms. I lifted a leg and pushed into her again. I started to fuck, just small, intense movements, claiming her in front of the entire city. In a weird kind of way, I hoped people could see. Everyone should know we were together.

“You’re so beautiful,” I said, slowing. “Gorgeous.”

She looked at me, her face turning serious for a second as she pushed her fingers into my hair. “So are you. Inside and out.”

She tipped her head back and I clamped my mouth down on her delicious skin, wanting to consume her. I trailed my teeth down to her collarbone and sucked and bit every exposed inch, like I needed to make up for the time we’d not been together. How had I lived without her for all the years that came before her? I wasn’t sure I could even remember my life clearly without her. Wasn’t sure what it was like before I had something to come home to at night when I’d missed my daughter’s bedtime.

She tightened around my cock as my teeth sank into her throat again. And I slipped my hands over her silk-covered breasts, squeezing her hard nipples. She shuddered against me and this time the pressure on my cock, the friction, the drag of her perfect heat was too much, and I exploded inside her with a groan.

I held her against my chest as we recovered our breath.

“Gabriel,” she sighed, her voice so soft it faded in the noise of the city. “My Gabriel.”

I was glad she knew it. I was hers.

Thirty-Two

Autumn

I pushed the dollhouse back to where it lived by the window. I’d pulled it out to the middle of Bethany’s bedroom for her to play with it more easily during Penelope’s visit. Directing everyone’s focus seemed like a good idea, since it helped avoid strained silences or Bethany getting whiny. So far, we’d dodged any awkward questions such as Why do you want to be my friend? and Why does Jade always sit back and never play? and Why do you always cry when you leave? Long may it continue. I’d have to remember to tell the new nanny when she arrived. She’d be here in less than two weeks.

“Is it time for lunch yet?” Bethany asked.

“Yes, let’s just tidy up from you and Penelope playing and then I can fix you something.”

The second visit had gone without a hitch. And Penelope had made Bethany laugh as she made up voices for the dolls that occupied the very grand house Bethany had stuffed full of furniture. Everyone was happy. Especially me. I swear the Savoy had put something in the water that made my soul float. Or maybe it was just being with Gabriel. Whatever it was, I’d been walking on cotton candy since the weekend. Even being forced to wear a turtleneck on a hot day to cover the marks Gabriel had left on my neck didn’t worry me. It was worth it to be reminded of Gabriel’s mouth on my skin.

The doorbell rang from downstairs.

“I’ll get it!” Bethany cried.

“I don’t think so,” I said. It would only be a courier delivering something, but Bethany wasn’t about to start answering the door at four years old, even if she could reach the locks standing on her step stool. “It might be those new pens I ordered yesterday,” I said. “If you want, we can draw your daddy a new picture for his office. They have glitter in them, and you know he’s sure to like that.” I held out my hand and we went downstairs to get the door.

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