Modern Romance June 2019 Books 5-8. Andie Brock

way you smell drives me insane. I want to lick every inch of you.” His teeth nipped her lobe and her nipples tightened so hard and fast, they stung. She pressed her thighs tight together, trying to ease the ache that shot high and hot between.

      She eased the dress down off her shoulders, but before she had it fully off her arms, his hands stole forward to claim her breasts. She stilled, head falling back against his shoulder as he fondled her, filling her with lassitude. Her backside instinctively pressed into the firmness behind his fly and his breath hissed at the way she writhed against him. His hands tightened on her and she felt his teeth again, scraping the tender place where her neck met her shoulder.

      “Keep going,” he demanded, pushing into her butt, confusing her a little when he added, “I want to see you.”

      She kept herself snug against his fly as she turned her sleeves inside out peeling them off. He stepped back then, just enough to let her push the clingy dress off her hips. She stepped out of it and turned.

      His gaze claimed her in a lazy exploration that was nearly tactile, taking his time and leaving a burn of awareness at each curve and swell. He only held her one hand in his own, wasn’t even squeezing, but somehow he kept her in place for his leisurely inspection. His free hand came out and his finger hooked into her thong at the hollow on the front of her hip.

      And finally, his gaze lifted to meet hers.

      She only licked her lips, waiting. His heavy touch eased the one side down her hip, then skimmed across, grazing her mound on the way.

      She jerked and the corners of his mouth deepened with satisfaction. He slid the other side down an inch, teased her again with the back of his knuckle against the humid seam of her folds.

      “Gabriel,” she whispered in a helpless throb.

      “Is this what you want?” The thong cut across the tops of her thighs while his touch traveled back to center and barely touched her, petting ever so lightly.

      She bit her lip, embarrassed by the release of moisture there, but so wanting him to stroke into it.

      “Say yes.”

      “Yes,” she obeyed in a thready voice.

      He traced the center line of her, slowly deepening the caress, driving her mad so she was biting her lips, eyes clenched tight, waiting and waiting.

      There.

      Her mouth opened in a soundless scream as he found the swollen knot of nerves that craved his touch.

      He made a noise that was a growl of satisfaction and a snarl of torment.

      “Please,” she whispered and blindly reached out.

      “You’re okay.” He stepped closer, folding her arm behind the small of her back as he kept her hand in his and embraced her. Held her up. His other hand kept torturing her while his mouth found hers. “Feel,” he said against her lips, and continued his delicious torture.

      She curled her free hand around his neck and kissed him back, lost in a sea of sensation as he dragged his mouth across hers and her twisting scraped her nipples against the hair on his chest. And his hand, oh, his wicked, masterful hand found a wonderful rhythm that she met with abbreviated thrusts of her hips.

      She tried to tell him she wanted him, all of him, filling that ache. She wanted that hard shape she could feel so implacably against her hip, but she was drowning in this kiss and the pleasure and suddenly she was showered in the spell of climax, shivering and clinging and gasping.

      And Gabriel was laughing softly. “I knew,” he said against her lips. “I knew we would be like this.”

      * * *

      She went bonelessly onto his bed like a gift. Her hair pooled in ribbons of brunette satin, framing her face. Her gaze was soft, her mouth pouted and swollen from their kisses. Her limbs splayed weightlessly and her curves beckoned.

      His mouth watered as he stripped the last of his clothes. Somehow he remembered a condom when the only thought in his head was that he had to be against her. Over her. In her. He noted the hint of apprehension as she watched, studying his engorged shape, and knew he would die if he had to wait.

      But wait he would. As long as it took.

      He settled over her and cupped her face, letting himself burn in the fire of need and craving and anticipation of relief. When he kissed her, he tasted hesitation. He felt the tension in her thighs as she nervously made room for him.

      He kissed her chin, the heavy but slow pulse in her throat. She wasn’t nearly as frantic as he wanted her. Her collarbone, so delicate, reminded him that all of her was fragile, whether she realized it or not.

      Ah, these breasts. They were a fantasy unto themselves and he gave himself free rein to pleasure both of them, teasing and sucking and licking until her nipples were turgid beads against his tongue.

      “Gabriel,” she gasped. The fingers in his hair began to clench with desperation, but she wasn’t yet near the level gripping him.

      “Soon,” he soothed, drawn by her scent to rub his face across the trembling muscles in her abdomen and here. Here was the magic and the sweetness and the way to fully prepare her for the hard thrusts of his body.

      He tantalized, glorying in the honeyed perfection of her until she moved without inhibition, making exquisitely helpless noises that shredded his control. He longed to take her over the edge like this, but she was in such a delicious state of surrender.

      Now, finally, her body held the same frequency of tremble, the same throbbing agony of desire that echoed his own.

      He rose over her and braced himself on an elbow while he sought her center. Somehow he made himself command, “Say it again.” He had to know they were perfectly aligned.

      “Yes,” she told him, eyes opening to slits that were glazed with passion. “I need you. Please.”

      He tried to be gentle. She was tight and the heel of her hand pressed into his shoulder. She caught her breath. He stopped. Gritted his teeth.

      “It’s okay,” she murmured, biting her lip as she shifted.

      He withdrew a fraction. Kissed her. Slowly she relaxed and feathered a caress in the base of his spine.

      He let his weight sink the rest of him into her, all the way, until his eyes nearly rolled to the back of his head with sheer ecstasy.

      Mine, he thought, knowing that to think it was to take something from her, but in this moment it felt like a fair exchange.

      Because she possessed him. Utterly and completely.

      * * *

      Luli was trembling in what she thought might be shock, but Gabriel lifted his head and just that tiny shift of movement caused such a wave of heated pleasure to wash over her, her scalp tingled and she was suddenly on the verge of climax again.

      This was acute arousal holding her in its grip, she realized. She was quivering with desire.

      Her loins stung where he intruded, but she loved it. Needed it. Restless frustration guided her hands as she ran them over his back and hips, claiming tense muscles and hot, damp skin.

      He kissed her, the rake of his mouth drugging, but inciting. Her knees lifted on instinct, ankles crossing in the small of his back.

      He made an animalistic noise and sank a fraction deeper into her. Then he gathered her beneath him, withdrew slowly and returned in a steady thrust, all the way until he had pressed a cry out of her at the reverberation of sensation he rocked through her.

      He stiffened and she frantically caught at him. “Yes, Gabriel. Yes. Keep going.”

      His rhythm became elemental and primitive, yet sumptuous. It wasn’t a destination, it was a place, a glorious place where they existed together. Where her entire being was filled with light. Any shadows that remained were the long, sweet