Page 58 of My Darling Rogue
Or mouth.
She bent closer, and before there was a chance she might change her mind, or Gabriel stopping her, Celia took the flared head of his cock into her mouth. It was all she dared, but it was enough.
“Fuck,yes,” Gabriel hissed in surprise, his hips bucking upward in desperate search of the warm recesses of her mouth. His hand remained locked around his flesh, and although her hair was still within the tight grip of his other hand, he did not push or insist she take more of him. He simply retained his hold and let her determine the extent of her actions.
“Don’t you dare stop. Stay, Celia. Stay. Stay.Sweet Jesus.” The words ran together as he stroked himself harder and faster, and Celia, for some unknown reason, was compelled to swirl her tongue over the thickness in her mouth. Instinctively, she hollowed out her cheeks as if she were sucking on something particularly delicious.
Gabriel grunted, and in the next instant, he yanked her backward. A noise like a small pop echoed in the room when he lost the suction of her mouth.
Then he groaned, rumbling a low noise of agonized satisfaction. For an endless moment, Celia’s breath matched his as the climax sent shudders through his body and fluid pumped from his sex in arching ribbons. It smeared across his naked groin.
Celia absently wondered what it tasted like.
His fingers loosened by degrees. First on her hair, then on his cock. A deep breath escaped him. All the tension she’d sensed from the moment she came to his room earlier that afternoon seemed as if it had drained away.
He was silent, then said, “Once again, you surprise me, Celia. Thank you.”
Celia felt a pang of sympathy. He sounded exhausted. He probably was. After all, he’d traipsed back and forth over England the past few days and topped it all off by getting married.
With quick movements, Gabriel removed the sleeping pants, using them to wipe away the remnants of his seed. The garment was tossed onto the floor before he fell back against the pillows, pulling Celia alongside his hard form.
“You’re welcome,” she whispered, wondering if he would now use his hands and mouth to give her the same blissful attention as he had done before.
She trembled with need, the junction of her thighs wet and aching. The taste of him, clean with a hint of soap and salt, left her even more ravenous. It was as if her new husband had fed her some manner of addictive opiate. She could not comprehend how this had happened. How she went from nervous and agitated, to unsatisfied and agitated.
Gabriel laughed softly. The self-assured air he usually exhibited returned with amazing speed. He was back in control once more. “I do know what you need, sugarplum. And usually, I would delight in giving you everything you crave. But not only will I honor my vow of not touching you tonight, but you’ve also earned a punishment for drinking more brandy than you should have. Did you think I would forget about that?”
Celia frowned. “That is not fair. You touched me and I touched you. And I truly needed that brandy. You can’t say that I didn’t. It’s been an exceedingly tiresome day.”
Positioning herself in the bed so that she could lean onto his chest, she folded her hands beneath her chin and willed him to touch her in the manner she needed.
Her efforts were in vain; however, Gabriel’s expression softened. The tenderness in which he regarded her eased Celia’s frustration a tiny portion.
“I know it’s not fair, pet,” he breathed. His hand passed over her head in a caress that made her eyes flutter shut with both sleepiness and a sense of belonging. Her head dropped. His heartbeat sounded like a thousand drums in her ear when she pressed it to his chest. Steady. True. Right. This felt right.
“But I always keep my promises,” he continued in a low voice, stroking her hair and smoothing the tangles. “Good or bad, I keep them. And this one pains me more than you can possibly imagine.”
CHAPTER25
Aloud banging on the outer chamber door startled Celia awake.
It was barely morning, the room still grey with the receding of the night. The lamp by the bed was no longer lit. Celia frowned. It’d been burning when she’d fallen asleep the night before, cradled in Gabriel’s arms. How was it that she slept without that comforting light?
Before she could inquire what was happening, Gabriel rolled from the bed in a singular motion.
Celia had forgotten he had removed his sleeping pants after their passionate encounter. Now, she found herself staring at her husband in fascination.
Dear God. He is completely nude.
Gloriously, wildly nude, and on full display for her admiration.
His entire backside could have been inspiration for one of Michelangelo’s statues. Gabriel’s muscular physique was a true work of art. Celia’s mouth went dry as her eyes traversed the width of his back, watching the muscles of his large shoulders clench and unclench. She’d never noticed how long his hair was. It lay in wavy darkness just beyond the nape of his neck, leaving her with the desire to twine her fingers into the curls.
Past the expansive breadth of those shoulders, his body tapered down to a narrowed waist and trim hips. But it was the unexpected sight of his buttocks that drew a quick breath of appreciation from somewhere deep in the center of Celia’s chest.
They were so exquisitely sculptured they might have been constructed of fine marble. Round and firm. And smooth. So damned smooth Celia imagined running her hands over the pair of them so she could determine for herself if there was any roughness to them.
She must have let out a noise more alarming than the intermittent pounding on the suite’s door. There was no mistaking the fury of the person making all the racket.
