Page 87 of Inheritance
He reached out, the knuckle of his ring grazing my jaw—unhurried, inevitable.
He gripped my face—not painfully, but firm.
“You lied, with this mouth, said you would be on time.”
“Apologize.”
His thumb lingered, tracing a slow line along my cheek. The band was cool against my skin; the weight of it carried all the new authority he possessed.
I moved my hand up, parting the loose collar of his shirt to trace the skin beneath. He let me. Watched me. That same control—but letting it crack, just slightly.
I leaned up and kissed the spot below his jaw.
I kissed him again. Higher this time. Just at the corner of his mouth.
He guided me toward the desk until the edge met the backs of my thighs.
He stilled. His gaze searched mine, sharp but quiet, as I slid my hand up his chest, brushing the collar of his shirt aside. My fingers rested lightly over the steady thrum of his pulse.
Then he pushed me to my knees—not forceful, just intention made physical.
Gabriel stepped back with controlled grace and lowered himself into the leather chair behind the desk. Legs spread slightly. One elbow draped over the armrest. The other hand flexed once, then stilled on his thigh. Watching. Waiting.
I lifted both hands to tie back my hair.
His jaw tightened. Still, I didn’t look away.
The cold hard floor bit through the fabric of my dress. I didn’t flinch. I didn’t blink. I just knelt—sinking into the space between us like it was where I belonged.
His eyes darkened.
My hands moved to his belt, fingers sure but unhurried. There was reverence in my pace. Not hesitation.
He leaned back slightly, lips parting as if to speak—but nothing came out. Just breath. Just heat.
His hand reached out, thumb brushing my cheekbone. I kissed the inside of his wrist.
“I won’t be late again, I’m sorry,” I said softly.
“Not good enough.”
And then I looked up at him, steady and certain.
And everything in him stilled—tight, tethered, waiting.
I undid his belt with deliberate ease, metal catching briefly in the quiet. The zipper followed, low and slow, teeth parting under my fingers. He didn’t move.
He was already hard.
I freed him with care, with intention. His cock thick and flushed and heavy in my hand. He twitched slightly when I closed my fingers around him, the muscle in his thigh tensing under my touch. His hips didn’t move, but his jaw clenched tight.
I let my thumb circle the head, catching the first bead of arousal, spreading it down his length. He hissed a breath through his teeth.
I leaned in and licked him once—flat, slow, from base to tip. The taste of him lit something deep in me. My hand stayed firm as I took him in, lips wrapping around the head with steady pressure.
He groaned low in his chest.
I sank deeper, letting my jaw relax, breathing through my nose as he slid further into my mouth. He filled me—thick, throbbing and hot—and I held him there, tongue pressed along the underside, feeling his pulse.
