Page 26 of My Darling Rogue
He drank her in as though she were the finest of spirits.
And he became a man undone.
CHAPTER12
Could Gabriel feel her shaking? Could he feel the imperceptible tremors quaking just below the surface of her skin?
His breath was so warm. Celia tensed, her exposed flesh reacting in the most elemental way to Gabriel’s nearness. Leaning her head back against the chair, she stared at the coffered ceiling above her and waited in a state of horrible anticipation forsomethingto happen.
Then his mouth was on her. Determined and hungry. Unavoidable. And so gently possessive, Celia’s world tilted.
“Oh, God.” The whimper escaped her, and Gabriel responded with a dark chuckle of pleasure.
“Focus on me, Celia, and save those prayers until I’m done with you.”
His tongue traced her, learning the shape of her flesh. He licked and nibbled, absorbing every tiny sound Celia made. And his hands remained locked on her, keeping her spread wide as his firm lips and hot mouth drove her to the brink of utter madness.
Celia gripped the chair, her fingernails digging into the ornately carved wood. Shifting her gaze from the ceiling, she stared at the man kneeling before her. With her skirts bunched up around her stomach, she could only see the thick, russet-hued wealth of his hair and the vast width of his shoulders as he bent to her. But it was enough. Enough that she understood what he was doing to her and experienced a strange sense of willing helplessness. Enough that she comprehended just how deeply their lives were becoming hopelessly entwined. She should be afraid of him. Of his strength and how he controlled her so effortlessly. Her heart thumped painfully as she tried pushing awaythosememories from the past. She must focus on the pleasure Gabriel was giving her.
There was pleasure before, remember, you silly girl? Pleasure, then dark moments of terror.
Celia squeezed her eyes shut.Don’t think about that. Think about this. Here. Now.
Now.This moment in time when Gabriel was staking his claim with teeth and lips and tongue. There was no going back from this. This was something she would not be able to pretend never happened. This was something she could not shove into the deepest recesses of her mind.
Gabriel explored her with exacting thoroughness. The swipes of his tongue danced between full and lush and razor-like intensity. She relaxed in his hold, melting into the grip he maintained on her. It was as though he waited patiently for that moment of surrender. That moment when her mind accepted everything he demanded she accept.
When she began floating in a hazy dreamlike sea of pleasure, his methods abruptly changed.
She was wet from his ministrations. Fevered from the heightened state he’d driven her to. Swollen with lust. And too enthralled to protest when the intensity of his attentions rose to a crescendo.
Gabriel growled with satisfaction, the rumble tickling her most intimate place. The rough stubble shadowing his jaw and upper lip abraded her skin but Celia did not mind it. It only heightened every sensation, leaving her incredibly sensitive to every pass of his mouth.
“Your sweet quim tastes like fucking ambrosia,” he whispered. He lavished her folds with the flat of his tongue before spearing it into the warmth of her body.
Celia choked back a gasp at the coarseness of his muttered words, then moaned in appreciation when his tongue pressed harder on her clitoris. His thumbs spread her even wider, parting soft, dark curls and exposing her center.
There was no escaping what would follow. Celia knew it was useless to even attempt squirming away. She wanted everything he was doing in this moment and anything he planned on doing next.
Gabriel sucked the tiny knot of nerves gently between his teeth, holding it steady. His tongue began an unrelenting lashing of the sensitive tissue. Over and over. The speed, the tempo, none of it changed, not even when her hips rocked with greedy insistence up into his mouth, wanting more. It remained a constant assault. A persistent motion that carried her into the heart of a raging storm and refused to let her go.
Celia could not help herself, even with the threat of being gagged. She let out a strangled cry of delight, her body no longer her own. Every heartbeat, every drop of blood, every nerve and vein belonged to Gabriel. The climax washed over her without warning. Ecstasy wrung quivering moans from her throat, and Gabriel’s response was instant and instinctive.
His hands slipped to her bottom. Cupping the cheeks of her buttocks within his large palms, his fingers dug into the plumpness thorough the fabric. Her hips were slightly elevated until the core of her body was more easily devoured.
Then he sucked all of her wet, swollen flesh into his mouth, drinking in her release. Demanding everything. Taking all without mercy.
Celia trembled. She hovered in a state of suspended pleasure. Orgasmic tendrils curled and invaded every inch of her body and soul. She was flung to the stars beyond the moon while plummeting to land in a cloud of feathers at the same time.
Gabriel’s moan of possession echoed in the room. He continued feasting as he appeased his hunger.
His mouth softened as the peak receded, but he continued tenderly licking all her aching, yet satisfied parts. Lassitude crept over Celia until she could barely open her eyes. She sagged against the cushion of the chair, breathing deep, trying to still her racing heart. As she slowly floated back to earth, she became aware of Gabriel murmuring words against the skin of her thighs and the quivering flesh between them.
“Ma douce fille. Ma dragee piquante.”
The love words spoken in French made Celia’s heart clench with something dangerous. Something wild and unknown. Something she’d never felt before and had no idea how to manage.
My sweet girl. My prickly sugarplum.
