Page 43 of Vicious Devotion
His hands close around my waist, and he turns us abruptly, sinking back onto the chaise as he pulls me down atop him. The seat is wide, wide enough for me to straddle him with plenty of room for my knees, and the instant that he pulls me down into his lap, a strangled moan escapes me at the feeling of his cock pressing between my thighs, through his jeans and mine.
“I need you,” he whispers against my mouth, and then his hand fists in my hair, tangling it around his fingers as he drags me back down into a searing kiss.
All I can feel is him. His hand knotted in my hair, his mouth against my lips, his tongue tangling with mine. His fingers, jerking loose the button of my jeans, yanking them down past my hips, further down my thighs. “Off,” he growls, his mouth devouring mine. “Get them off.”
I kick them away without thinking, my mind a fog of lust. Need has overtaken every rational thought, every part of me aching for him, all of the desire that I’ve been struggling daily to keep at bay surging up all at once at the raw, feral need in him. He nips at my lower lip, pulling my mouth back to his, and I hear the metallic clink of his belt buckle as he yanks it open.
“I need you,” he repeats, hoarse and desperate, his fingers curling around the nape of my neck. I feel the hot, hard length of his cock pressing against me, burning through the thin cotton of my panties as he frees himself from his jeans, and then his fingers hook beneath the fabric, yanking my panties to one side as he pulls me upwards just enough to slip his cock between my thighs and sheathe himself to the root.
I cry out, the keening wail of pleasure loud enough that anyone nearby could hear, but I can’t help it. He’s impossibly large, thick and long, and Gabriel’s hand on my hip pulls me down atop him as he starts to thrust, his mouth claiming mine again as he fucks me hard and fast. I can feel him inside of me, bare and hot and smooth, hard as steel, his powerful, muscled body surging up against mine again and again. We’re still wearing half our clothes—his on except for his open jeans, my t-shirt bunched around my waist, and neither of us can separate long enough to take anything else off. He keeps my mouth sealed to his, one hand in my hair and the other on my hip, guiding me.
I’ve imagined riding him before, but this is something different. He’s in control, even with me on top, dragging me back down onto his cock each time I try to rise, his hungry kisses devouring every sound I make. It’s primal, rough, possessive in a way that it’s never been before, and I would have thought this would terrify me, but?—
With Gabriel, it’s so arousing that I’m already on the verge of coming.
Every desperate thrust of his hips grinds his pelvis against my clit, his hot, smooth skin, and rough pubic hair rubbing against that most sensitive spot, and I cry out again, a flood of arousal soaking us both as I buck against him, craving my own release. It feels good—so fucking good, and I moan his name against his lips as I feel the pressure building, on the verge of letting go, an orgasm so intense that it feels like I’ll die if I don’t reach it.
“Gabriel—” His name is almost a sob as I moan it again, rubbing myself against him. I lean forward as he frantically fucks me, each upward thrust filling me again and again with his cock in a way that feels almost too good. It’s too much pleasure, searing my nerves, scrambling my thoughts, and I claw my fingers into his shirt, rolling my hips against him as I try to tear my mouth away from his.
His hand in my hair tightens. “I want to swallow your scream when you come,” he growls against my lips. “I want my name in our mouths when you come all over my fucking cock. Come for me, Bella. Come?—”
Whatever else he might have been about to say is lost in the orgasm that hits me, seizing every muscle in my body as my back bows so deeply my spine feels like it could snap, my hips pressed hard to his as my fingers dig into his chest through his t-shirt. The orgasm is vicious, terrifying, violent—and it’s the best thing I’ve ever felt, sweeping through me and obliterating everything else until there’s nothing but pleasure, nothing but the feeling of my body clenching and shaking around Gabriel’s, his cologne and sweat in my nostrils, the heat of his skin sinking into mine, and?—
“Fuck!” He snarls the word as he grabs my hips in both hands, lifting me just in time for his cock to slip free. His arm slides around me, hand holding tightly to my waist as he grabs his cock in one hand just as it starts to spurt, his head falling back as he jerks himself hard, cum splashing over the ridges of his abs. It spurts up onto his shirt, his hand clenching his length until he’s almost white-knuckling his own cock, his jaw clenched as his eyes squeeze shut, and he moans something that sounds like my name.
I can’t move, frozen atop him, as I stare down at him. He’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen, strung taut with pleasure because of me, shuddering with it. He swallows convulsively, his hand sliding once more over his cock, and then he lets it fall away, his eyes slowly opening.
“I almost came inside you.” His eyes flutter closed again for a second. “That was one of the hardest fucking things I’ve ever had to do. Not—” He swallows again, and his hand tightens on my waist. I look at him, and my chest aches, burning with an emotion that feels like it’s going to eat me alive.
He wants me. He wants me with the kind of lust, the kind of passion that I never thought I would experience. But he doesn’t love me. And marrying him without that feels like it’s going to kill me.
In the aftermath of what we just did, however, as reality settles back in, I can’t deny that he has a point.
I don’t believe Igor will obey the rules. I don’t believe that he’ll care if I’m Gabriel’s wife or just a nanny hired to watch his kids. He’ll come to take me back, one way or another, and unless Gabriel has protection against that, he’ll leave devastation in his wake.
But marrying Gabriel has a different benefit, one that he was likely about to tell me and that I didn’t think about until now, as my emotions and arousal are cooling.
Gabriel has connections in the mafia world. Connections he’s made and tended to over the years. Calling in favors and asking for those connections to help him stand against Igor is no small thing, but it will be made more possible if he asks for them to help defend his wife.
A lot of men in that world would see me, while I’m only Gabriel’s employee, and tell him to give me back. To not risk the danger that comes with standing up to Igor. But if they see me as his wife, all of that changes.
Numbly, I feel Gabriel lift me off of his lap, as he sits up. He strips his shirt off, using it to clean off his stomach, and I stare at his abs as they bunch, resisting the urge to reach out and touch him. A part of me wants to fall back onto the chaise with him, to rouse him until he fucks me again, so we can put off the rest of this conversation. And the rest of me knows that we need to have it, before anything else happens between us.
“Bella.” He turns to face me, his expression tired now, instead of angry. “Please—say you’ll marry me. Let me protect you.”
I almost laugh. The only reason that I don’t is that I know he won’t understand why, and that it will hurt him. It wouldn’t be him I would be laughing at—it’s the utter ridiculousness of all of this, the fact that he’s sitting next to me while I’m half-dressed, a dirty, wadded-up shirt in his hand, asking me to marry him. It’s not at all the proposal I would have envisioned, if I’d ever really let myself imagine this.
But then again, neither was my first. In fact, the first time, I wasn’t even asked.
This is an improvement, in comparison.
That laugh burns the back of my throat again, but I swallow it down. I nod, slowly, and I can see the relief on his face.
“That’s a yes?” he asks quietly, and I nod again.
It’s a yes—for now. Because all I can think, as my heart sinks like a rock in my chest, is that while I can accept that there are good reasons to marry Gabriel for my own protection, it won’t be forever.
Once the threat is gone, I’ll leave. It breaks my heart to even think it—to imagine leaving Cecelia, Danny, Gabriel, and even Agnes—but I know that I can’t bear to be married to him forever if he doesn’t love me.