Page 17 of The Price of Power

But once more, Gabriel stopped me, one arm clamping tight around my waist as he held me still.

“So greedy,” he scolded me.

For the first time in my life, I was so riled up that I wanted to howl in frustration. “I just want?—“

“Oh, I know what you want,” he growled. “And I’m going to give it to you…but not yet.”

Dear God, if my panties weren’t already soaking, they were now. That had to be the sexiest thing anyone had ever said to me in my whole life.

“Gabriel.” Somehow, I was able to pack an entire lifetime’s worth of pleading into just his name.

“I said, but not yet.” I should have known he wasn’t the type to give in to simple begging. “Keep telling me what you like.”

“I’m not sure.”

It wasn’t a lie. At this point, I was so wound up that the sensual foreplay we were watching was starting to seem tame.

Gabriel must have been getting to that point himself because he said,” Then tell me what you wish you were seeing.”

The thinking part of me knew what he was doing. I understood how perfectly he was manipulating me—knowing I was too timid to ask for the specifics of what I wanted outright and using the couple in front of us as a buffer.

I knew it…but I didn’t care.

If anything, I appreciated the mastery of his seduction.

“I wish…I wish he would go further,” I said, my voice shaky with a combination of nerves and desire. “I want to see him touch between her legs.”

And as if by magic, in the next moment, what I said started to happen.

I watched through lust-glazed eyes as the man nudged the woman’s legs wide and began to stroke between the lips of her pussy. The sound of her moans echoed through our room, heating my blood even further.

And then it started happening to me.

Gabriel’s hands dipped down to my inner thighs, pushing them apart. The hem of my dress stretched as far as it could before rolling up to my hips, giving him access to the most intimate parts of me.

Well…not quite.

His chest began to rumble as his palm over the slick satin of my panties. “I don’t like these,” he said before curling his fingers around the thin strip of material at my waist.

Then he pulled—hard.

I gasped, more at the sound than at the sensation of my underpants shredding. In the next breath, cool air washed against my skin as he pulled the tattered scraps free and tossed them to the side.

“Better,” he said to himself before his hand once again came back to me.

His fingers were ridiculously capable as they pressed against the juncture of my legs. I could have sworn I could feel every rough ridge on his fingers grazing over my clit as he circled it.

My head fell back against his shoulder, and I cried out.

“That’s right.” Gabriel’s gravelly voice raked against my ear. “See what happens when you let yourself want things.”

Oh God, help me, I did.

I’d never felt anything so good in my life. Not even the battery-operated boyfriend I kept in my bedside drawer (the big one, which took D-size batteries) had ever made me feel this way.

“Now tell me what else you want,” he demanded.

Everything. I wanted everything.

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