One Night with Gael (Rival Brothers 2)

‘With a woman as intoxicating as you, everything is possible.’

His kiss this time was ten times more carnal, devastatingly brutal in its hunger. Luckily Goldie was equally ravenous for this new, dizzying sensation that threatened to drown her. But she hung on, clung to Gael’s broad shoulders as he took her on a frighteningly exciting journey.

Even after he broke away and started to trail his mouth down her body she was still lost in that intoxicating kiss. It was only when he reached her breasts, tweaked and sucked on the stiff, needy peaks, then dropped lower to kiss the sensitive skin below her navel, teasing her panty line with his teeth and lips, that she fell into a different but equally exhilarating dimension of pleasure.

Her panties were tugged off in quick, expert movements. Then he was parting her legs, kissing his way up her inner thighs.

Goldie didn’t even attempt to halt what was coming. She wanted it all. Was greedy enough to raise herself onto her elbows, stare in wonder as he drew inexorably closer to the bundle of need between her thighs.

His gaze locked on hers in that final second before he tasted her, his nostrils flaring one last time as he drew in her essence. He muttered something hard and pithy under his breath. Then he swiped his tongue boldly across her flesh.

Her hips jerked as sensation pounded her in a merciless wave. She collapsed back against the pillows, her breath emerging in shameless pants as pleasure surged through her. When Gael found the bundle of nerves that screamed for attention she cried out, her eyes squeezing shut to savour the sensations she knew instinctively would blow her away. The pressure between her thighs increased, and his tongue flicked urgently against her flesh as he groaned through his own pleasure.

Between one breath and the next she was flung into nirvana, her mind and body no longer her own as pure bliss buffeted her. Her moan fused into one long, earthy sound, and her convulsions were endlessly thrilling.

The moment her pulse began to slow she felt him move, heard him reach across her body. She opened her eyes to see him tearing open a condom, rolling it over his impressive girth.

Goldie debated then whether to tell him that she was a virgin, that he was about to be her first. But she knew then that two things might happen.

Firstly, he might not believe her. She hadn’t forgotten the occasional glimpses of censure he’d sent her way a few times since they’d met. Men like Gael had cynicism bred into their DNA. She couldn’t explain any other reason for those looks.

Secondly, he might believe her and think she had an agenda in all this—a motive for giving herself to him. It couldn’t be further from the truth. Theirs was to be a coupling bred solely of attraction and need. Nothing more.

So she bit her lip and forced herself to meet his gaze. Whatever he saw in her face satisfied him enough to make him lower his body to hers, to free her lip from her teeth and take her mouth in a possessive, incandescent kiss.

After an age, he lifted his head.

‘Touch me, Goldie. Hold on to me when I take you. I want you to know who it is that possesses you tonight.’

The raw demand robbed her of her already short breath. ‘Gael—’

‘Sí, say my name like that. Just like that...’ he commanded gruffly as he positioned himself between her legs. One hand gripped her thigh, and the other fisted in her hair. The easy strength with which he held himself poised above her was testament to his powerfully honed physique, which was a beautiful sight to behold.

His fierce arousal spoke of a different power altogether—one that made her heart palpitate with trepidation even as her senses flared in anticipation.

Remembering his instruction to hold on to him, she slid her arms around his waist, caressing the corded muscles in his lower back.

Hazel eyes darkened as they met hers. His head dropped and his mouth fused with hers as he penetrated her with one sure, focused thrust.

Her muted scream rose and died between their kiss. But not the pain. God, not the pain. That held her rigid for a few endless seconds.

Above her, Gael’s eyes flared, probed. He raised his head and stared at her. ‘Goldie...?’

She wasn’t sure whether it was a question or an observation. She registered her lost innocence and held on to him, unable to form words as the pain lingered, then faded to leave behind new, breath-catching sensations.

‘Gael...’ she murmured.

He shook his head, perhaps answering his own question. Perhaps caught in the burgeoning rapture of their union. He moved. He groaned. His head went back as he withdrew and thrust again.

‘Dios mio, you feel sensational,’ he muttered roughly.

‘Gael...’

He withdrew and thrust again, his mouth dropping to hers for a searing, groan-laced kiss. ‘Yes, Goldie. My name on your lips. Don’t stop. I want to hear it.’

And she wanted to say it, she realised. So she did.

He set the pace—slow at first, then faster, building a conflagration within and between them that soon raged out of control. With it came a feverish need to touch, to kiss, to taste, to bite. Her nails raked and dug in as he took her higher. His fingers fisted in her hair, and he devoured her mouth as pleasure overtook them.