Page 64 of Gabriel: Duke of Bencalor

The Cal­e­van dragon that climbed his left side was drawn en­tirely in black ink ex­cept for the deep red lily clutched in one of its claws. Its frill was fully ex­tended, and its mouth was open in a toothy snarl.

She had known it was there from the post-kid­nap­ping in­ter­views with Mikel. Gabriel’s ab­duc­tors had tried to use it as an iden­ti­fier, but Raul had iden­ti­cal ink on his torso. So they had been forced to de­pend on Gabriel’s claim that he was the prince.

When he yanked the tails of his shirt out of his waist­band and tossed it away, she said, “Wait! Just stand there.”

His hands were al­ready on his belt, but they stilled. “What?”

“Let me look.” She propped her­self up on her el­bows and let her gaze roam over the carved mus­cles that swept over his shoul­ders and down his arms, the de­fined rip­ples of his ab­dom­i­nals, and the two hard, sexy lines that started just above his belt and dis­ap­peared into his trousers, draw­ing her eyes down­ward to the bulge un­der the fab­ric.

“Gor­geous,” she said. “Turn around.”

His mouth tilted into a quizzi­cal smile. “Are you con­sid­er­ing me as a sex ob­ject?”

“More like a work of art.”

“Oh, well, in that case, any­thing in the ser­vice of art.” He piv­oted, the fin­gers of his right hand tap­ping against his thigh as he waited.

The sculpted swells of his mus­cles wrapped onto his back. Now she fol­lowed the in­dent of his spine down to dis­cover deep dents above each but­tock. “Nice dim­ples.”

He spun around, half smil­ing, half growl­ing. “If you are laugh­ing at me…”

“Dim­ples are erotic. I want to lick them.”

With that, he shucked off his trousers, his black briefs, and his loafers. Be­fore she had time to ad­mire the full glory of his naked­ness, he knelt over her on hands and knees. His pale eyes seemed to glit­ter in the shad­ows cre­ated by the dark hair fall­ing for­ward around his face. “I could feel you look­ing at me,” he said, his voice rasp­ing. “As though your fin­gers brushed over my skin.”

“Like this?” She lifted her hands to trace his bi­ceps, now rock hard as he held his weight above her. She drifted over to his pecs, the light fur of his hair tick­ling her fin­ger­tips. She cir­cled the brown disks of his nip­ples so they hard­ened to tiny points. He groaned and sat back onto his heels, his fin­gers work­ing the but­ton of her trousers loose be­fore he pulled down the zip­per so fast she heard it whine.

Then she was help­ing him, tilt­ing her pelvis so he could strip off her trousers and her panties while she kicked off her pumps.

“Ay, Dios mío,” he mur­mured, star­ing down at her.

She reached for his cock, but he caught her wrist. “My turn to ad­mire,” he said with a slow, hot smile. “Ex­cept I will use my hands.”

He started at the base of her throat and skimmed his in­dex fin­ger down be­tween her breasts to her navel, which he cir­cled a few times be­fore he brushed his fin­gers down­ward, teas­ing just above where she wanted him to touch her. She lifted her hips to urge him lower, but he splayed his hand over her belly and pressed her down onto the quilt. Then he feath­ered his fin­gers back up be­fore he cupped both palms over her breasts and rubbed them lightly against the sen­si­tized tips.

Her hips came off the bed again, this time in­vol­un­tar­ily as arousal zinged down to spark low in her ab­domen.

“Please!” she begged. She tried to open her thighs, but his legs caged hers.

“Sí, pre­ciosa,” he whis­pered be­fore he dragged his hand down her body again, this time find­ing her clit and pass­ing it to slide his fin­ger in­side her wet heat.

“Yes, yes, more!” She needed to fill the empty long­ing.

He eased two fin­gers in­side her, push­ing deep be­fore he with­drew. He sat up and sucked his fin­gers into his mouth, groan­ing as he licked them. “De­li­ciosa.”

His fin­gers were not enough, though.

“Gabriel, please! Fuck me!”

He braced one arm on the mat­tress be­side her as he opened the drawer in the bed­side ta­ble and found a con­dom.

“Let me.” She held out her hand.

He shook his head. “I’m about to ex­plode al­ready.”

Hot, greedy de­sire surged through her, and she brought her hand down to touch her­self while he rolled on the con­dom.

For a long mo­ment, he watched her, his eyes heavy-lid­ded, his breath­ing au­di­ble. And then he shifted to drive one knee be­tween her thighs, his hands spread­ing them so he could bring his other knee in­side. His breath­ing grew harsher as he let her play with her clit.

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