Rebel North by J.B. Salsbury

Twenty

Kingston

Because of Gabriella’s work schedule, she had to meet me at the restaurant.

I pace the sidewalk out front waiting for her to arrive. Unfortunately, Medusa’s car pulls up first, and she steps out, dressed to impress. In the past, I might have complimented her Armani wide-legged jumpsuit, but not anymore. Now, I see the whole picture for what it really is. Contrived.

“Kingston,” she says with hope in her voice. “You’re early. I hope that means you bring me good news.”

“You didn’t give me a choice when you threatened to expose me.”

Her smile falls a little. “Well,” she says and pinches her gold clutch under her arm. “I do love a man who does what he’s told.” She nods toward the front door. “Shall we?”

“I’m waiting for my date.” I get way too much satisfaction watching her expression melt like makeup on a hot day.

“Your date.”

I lean in, grinning. “My girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?”

“That’s okay, isn’t it? You never said I had to come alone.”

Her smile is wobbly, not because she’s fighting tears, more because she’s fighting fury. “Are you out of your mind?” she says through clenched teeth.

A flash of auburn waves catches my eye. I look up just in time to see Gabriella step out of her Uber. She smiles at the driver, her look so warm and authentic that I’m jealous the grin isn’t for me.

Then she turns, and her smile brightens. My heart nearly stops beating as I take in the feeling of having all that beauty aimed at me.

It’s because of my appreciation of her contagious happiness that I don’t notice right away, but she’s wearing the Balenciaga dress. My breath catches, my heart pounds, and my palms itch to touch her.

“Don’t you look handsome,” she says as she approaches, the sound of her heels clicking against the pavement getting louder as she comes closer.

Coleman hasn’t moved an inch, the perfect spectator as she sizzles in her anger.

“Hello, gorgeous.” I slip my hand around Gabriella’s lower back and pull her flush against me. “I missed you.”

She gasps when my lips come down on hers, the sound so fucking sexy it goes straight through my bloodstream to my dick. She tilts her head, welcoming my lips against hers. Her lips part, and a feral growl rumbles deep in my chest as she lets me in and accepts my tongue eagerly as it slides against hers. Her hands grip my biceps, and it’s only then that I realize I’ve bent her back, her body nearly limp in my arms. I straighten, and only when she’s regained her footing, I reluctantly break the kiss.

“Wow,” she breathes.

I stare into her eyes, picking apart all the different flecks of gray and navy, believing for the first time that there must be a God because nothing but the divine could explain her incredible pull.

Coleman clears her throat. Gabriella blinks, and her cheeks flush. I keep my hold on her lower back and turn us toward our unwelcome observer.

“This must be the girlfriend,” Coleman says, holding her expression tightly. Until her gaze lands solidly on Gabriella’s scar. A flicker of confidence, maybe even superiority, flashes in her eyes.

“Gabriella,” my date says, introducing herself to the dragon lady. “Sorry to crash in on your dinner. I hope it’s all right.” She leans in toward the snake lady. I want to warn her not to look directly into her eyes for fear of turning to stone and all that. “Kingston gets crabby if I’m not around to give him a little sugar.” She winks. “If you know what I mean.”

I roll my lips between my teeth and watch Coleman’s gaze tighten into a glare. “We’re late.”

We follow her inside to the hostess stand, where we’re directed to our table, an intimate table for four with a view of the water.

We claim our seats, order drinks, and I throw my arm over the back of Gabriella’s chair so I can lean in and smell her neck. “You look amazing.” And it has nothing to do with the dress, although the skin-tight micro mini isn’t hurting her look, that’s for sure.

“Thank you,” she says and giggles while I nuzzle her neck.

I press a kiss to a spot below her ear, and she shivers.

“You’re really selling it,” she says quietly while our third wheel is hidden behind her menu. “Keep this up, and the whole state of New York will be convinced we’re lovers.”

I pull back enough to get her eyes. “And what about you?”

Her brows pinch together. “What?”

“What will it take to convince you?”

Her smile falls a little, and her gaze darts around. “I don’t understand.”

I run my hand up her back and slip my fingers into her hair. “I like y—"

“Well shit,” Coleman says, interrupting, as I’m sure was her point. “I seem to have forgotten my reading glasses at home.”

“That sucks.” I turn back to Gabriella.

“Kingston?” Coleman shifts forward in her seat and nods to the menu in front of me, a cunning glimmer in her eyes. “Would you mind reading me the top few bottles on the red wine list?”

Gabrielle tenses beside me, and her gaze sharpens. “I’m sure the waiter could pick something nice for you.”

Coleman smirks. “I’d like Kingston to do it.”

I look down at the wine list in front of me. The letters are too small and crushed together.

Gabriella flattens her palm on the menu. “Don’t,” she says softly.

The waiter shows up to get our drink order.

“We’ll take a bottle of the Château de Beaucastel.”

Coleman bristles, clearly unhappy about being bested.

I’m not stupid enough to think she’d back down now. If anything, I’d expect her to double her effort to exercise her control over me.

“You two are an… odd pairing,” she says, making an obvious statement by letting her gaze linger on Gabriella’s scars. “Where did you meet?”

My legs tense to push back from the table, grab Gabriella, and get the fuck out of—

“The naked yoga place on ninety-fifth,” Gabriella says. “In the Buff. Have you heard of it?”

My frustration ebbs only slightly, and I turn toward my date, looking forward to what she’s going to say next.

“Technically, you’re not supposed to check out the other yogis. But he was only a foot in front of me. How could I not? I mean, look at him!” She makes a sweeping motion from my head to my lap. “It was the downward-facing dog that sold me.”

I clear my throat to avoid chuckling out loud.

“Is there anything sexier than a man’s chode?”

I prop my elbow on the table and cover my mouth with my hand. Judging by the bursts of red on Coleman’s cheeks, I’d say Gabriella has successfully done the impossible—she’s knocked my arrogant boss off-center.

Coleman opens her mouth to reply, but Gabriella gasps and folds forward. She clutches her head. “Oh no,” she groans.

“What is it? Are you okay?”

“No, I’m sorry.” She rubs her temples. “This happens sometimes.” The corner of her mouth ticks up. “I have Repelabitchaphobia. Sudden migraines.” She stands so quickly that her chair rocks back on two legs. “I’m sorry. I need to get home and rest.”

I jump to my feet, trying hard to play the worried boyfriend rather than laugh at the stunt she’s pulling. “Oh, yeah, these hit hard and fast. I’ll get you home.”

“I can’t say goodbye. All the evil vibes are hurting my head.”

Coleman doesn’t seem to buy Gabriella’s lie, which only sweetens the victory.

“Enjoy your dinner, Ms. Coleman,” I wrap my arm around Gabriella.

“Yes, please,” Gabriella says with feigned weakness. “Don’t choke on it.”

We leave the snake woman speechless as we walk out of the restaurant, and I’m grateful I ordered the $150 bottle of wine for her to pick up the tab.

“God, she’s awful,” Gabriella whispers into my shoulder as we walk, connected at the hip, to the valet outside.

“Careful,” I say close to her ear. “You’re in danger of me falling in love with you.”

Her steps stutter and stall. She cranks her head around to look at me.

“What.”

She swallows hard, and her smile is a little shaky. “I just had the weirdest déjà vu.”

“Do you want to go home?”

She blinks up at me, those big, blue eyes trying to look beyond what the world sees. To look into my soul. “No.”

I feel myself smile. “You up for a walk?”

She hooks her arm into mine. “Sure, but I’m still hungry, so keep your eyes peeled for a hot dog stand.”

“No fucking thank you.”

Jordan’s on the River is close to Pier 25, near Hudson River Park. I point us in that direction and throw my arm over her shoulder to pull her close.

She grabs my hand that is hanging over her left shoulder. My stomach flips at the feel of her fingers clasped to mine. “Nice night.”

I can’t wipe the grin off my face. “It really is.”

We walk in silence, taking in the view of New Jersey’s lights reflected off the dark river. A calmness that makes no fucking sense settles inside me. The usual chaos of my life—specifically, all things North Industries—dissolves when I’m with Gabriella. When we’re together, I feel like nothing can touch me. Like the world could crumble to ash all around us, and none of it would matter because we’re together.

She squeezes my hand. “We’re far enough away now.”

“Huh?”

The breeze blows her long hair and gets it stuck between her lips. She plucks the locks away and tucks them behind her ear. “Ms. Coleman.” She ducks out from under my arm and puts a foot of space between us. “She can’t see us. You don’t have to keep pretending like I’m your girlfriend.” She turns away from me and heads to a nearby bench overlooking the water.

I stand there, stupid, without the right words to express what I want to say. Slowly, I make my way to the bench and sit beside her. People pass by, most paying us no mind, and I search for the right words to say.

“Can I be honest about something?” Her eyes are forward, her brows pinched. She doesn’t wait for my answer. “I know I said I’d be your wingman, but…” She shakes her head and drops her gaze to her hands, which are currently balled together in her lap. “I feel like I’m not being fair to my heart.”

My chest swells with what feels like excited anticipation for what she might say next.

“My brain knows it’s all fake, but my stupid heart just…” She chuckles softly. “He’s an overachiever, ya know? Just throws himself face first into the act until he doesn’t know what’s real and what’s fake anymore.”

The corner of my mouth twitches. “Your heart’s a he?”

She frowns, those brows still tight. “Yes. I think so.”

I’m smiling, but it’s not because she’s being cute or because I’m happy to simply be near her. I’m grinning because what she’s trying to tell me is… “You’re falling for me.”

“Oh, my God.” She laughs and avoids my eyes.

I rest my arm on the back of the bench and scoot closer to her. “Tell me I’m wrong, and I’ll back off.”

Her expression sobers, and she blinks while still staring ahead. She finally turns toward me, and I see my future play out in her blue eyes. Us, together. Forever. Fuck, I am so in love with her. I always have been.

“You’re not wrong,” she whispers sadly. “I’m so sorry.”

Her apology knocks me back an inch. “Sorry?”

She folds forward and puts her face in her hands. “Oh, God, Kingston. I’m totally screwing this up. You needed a friend, and I—”

I slip my hand over her lap to her hip and tug her closer. Her eyes are wide, confused, but she comes to me easily. I hook a knee beneath her thigh and pull her onto my lap. She gasps and grips my shoulders. I imagine what it would feel like to slide her tiny skirt to her hips and open her completely to me. I push her hair off her neck, press my lips to her throat, and groan. “Bee.” The warm, sweet taste of her skin creates a hunger for the more delicate places of her body.

I run my lips against the warm, pink skin below her ear. She shivers and tilts her chin up, opening her throat to my mouth.

Fuck yes.

“I want to eat you,” I whisper.

The tiny gasp that falls from her lips goes straight to my dick. There’s no way she can’t feel how hard I am against her ass.

Somewhere in the recesses of my mind, I know we’re not alone, that people are milling about all around us, and we have no privacy. But I could give a flying fuck. As far as I’m concerned, only a natural disaster of epic proportions could separate us.

“Kingston, you’re not playing fair,” she says breathlessly.

“Playing?” I kiss along her jaw. “This isn’t a game to me.”

She pulls back. My hand lashes out to cup the back of her neck for fear of her moving too far away. “Don’t lie. Remember… my heart.”

“I know. I’m not lying. I’m into you. I have been since…” I swallow hard and can’t hold her eyes. “Since the beginning.”

“But I thought—”

“I’m not gay. I’m not bisexual. I’m a heterosexual man, and I have wanted you. I want you.”

She blinks, looks to a tree, another bench, stares ahead at nothing. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“Doesn’t make sense? Jesus, Gabriella, you’re fucking phenomenal. You’re smart, clever, stunningly gorgeous—”

Her head whips around. “Stop. Don’t say that.”

“I won’t stop. I will say that. Look at me.”

She doesn’t.

“Look at me.” I sift my fingers into the hair at the back of her neck and make a tight fist.

She gives me her eyes.

“Everything about you turns me on.”

She tries to look away, but I hold her tighter.

I bring her forehead to mine. “Your mind, your heart, and your face. I like everything about you.”

She closes her eyes and shakes her head.

“Scars and all.”

She dissolves against me. Her body falls heavy against my chest, and I wrap my arms around her as tightly as I can to hold her close. To hold her together. Her body melts against mine.

“You’re not gay?”

I laugh, overwhelmed with relief and pure fucking joy. “Not even a little.”

“You lied.”

“You assumed. I didn’t correct you.”

She pulls back to look up at me. “Why not?”

“Because I wanted to touch you from the first time we met. I knew if you thought I was gay, it would keep me from making a move. And it did… for a while.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t realize….”

“People have always assumed my sexuality. Culture needs to evolve.”

Music comes from my right. A Tribe Called Quest, the song familiar but dated. A man on a bicycle with an old stereo bungee-corded to his handlebars. I know the moment Gabriella hears the song because her entire body turns to stone. Her muscles tense. Her spine stiffens. She pulls out of my arms just as the bike passes in front of us. Her gaze follows the man on the bike and then swings to the river.

“Hey.” I lean forward to see her expression. She looks a little lost and confused. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” she says without hardly moving her lips.

“I should feed you and get you home.” I slide her off my lap and stand up, grateful for the momentary distraction that helps to manage what’s going on behind my fly.

“I’ll get an Uber,” she says absently, as if still in a daze.

I put a finger to her chin and move her head around to look at me. She blinks away the fog and focuses on my eyes. “Home as in home with me.”

Her eyes spark with a fiery need that ignites my blood.

“If you keep looking at me like that, I’m afraid I won’t be able to keep my hands to myself.”

“Would that be so bad?”

“Quite the opposite, Bee. I’d love every fucking second of it.”

Her arms wrap around my middle, and she lifts up on her toes to bring her lips as close to mine as possible. “Then please, Kingston,” she says.

I drop my chin to press my lips to hers, soft, slow, and without using my tongue. “Please, what?”

“Take me home.”

Gabriella

The walk back to the restaurant feels twice as long, and the drive from Tribeca back to Lenox Hill feels like a lifetime. He pulls into the underground parking and throws the car into a parking space.

He takes my hand and brings it to his lips. “You sure about this?”

“I’m sure.”

His responding grin—boyish with a hint of masculine mischief and a healthy dose of satisfaction—sends a shiver of excitement through me.

I still can’t believe he wants me. And that he has wanted me since the beginning. But why didn’t he ever say anything? Why pretend we’re in a fake relationship when we could be in a real one? And why, for the love of all things beautiful, would he let me believe he’s gay?

I have so many questions, but when his mouth comes down on mine in the elevator, all my concerns disappear. His lips part, and his tongue slips into my mouth with practiced ease. His lips are strong and demanding, his mouth as talented as it is pretty.

The elevator dings, and the doors slide open. Kingston grips my waist and turns us so that my back is to the corner, his tall body blocking mine.

“Oh, um…” a female voice says from behind him. “I’ll just wait for the next one.”

The door closes, and I smile against his lips. “We should share the elevator.”

“No.” He runs fingertips along my hairline, from my forehead to my jaw, his hazel eyes ablaze as they follow the journey. “No one gets to see you like this except me.” The gentleness of his voice doesn’t match the sternness of his words.

I grin and hook my fingers into the waistband of his pants, then give them a little tug. “Isn’t that for me to say?”

He cringes and smiles. “You’re right.” His grin falls, and he steps closer, his long leg wedged between my thighs. He dips his chin to brush his lips against mine. The move is dominant, possessive, and thrilling. “Do you want anyone else to see you like this?”

“Explain like this.”

He cups my jaw. “Flushed.” He runs his thumb along my cheek. “Swollen lips.” He brushes his thumb to my lower lip. His gaze drops to my chest. “You’re breathing hard. Your body is begging to be touched.” He licks his lips, and I swear I almost combust. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

The elevator pings behind us, and this time, when the doors open, we’re on his floor.

“I admit nothing.” I duck out from under his arm and run.

He doesn’t chase me but turns around, casually acting unaffected. If not for the obvious protrusion between his hips, I might actually believe I have no effect on him. When he meets me at his front door, he backs me against the cold wood and kisses me again. He kisses me as if I’d been lost and finally found.

His hands tangle in my hair. I push up on my toes, grip his shirt, and hold on while he consumes me. I expect his hands to roam. I expect him to pull at my dress with an urgency to get me naked. To get to the good part, as most men would say. Instead, his hands stay in my hair, and his kisses become worshipful.

I’m lost to the sensation of his lips, the mastery of his tongue, the way he makes kissing feel more like a marathon rather than a sprint to the finish. His thumb brushes against my jawline and against the puckered flesh of my scar. The sensation startles me. I turn my face away and break the kiss on the instinct to hide away and immediately feel childish for doing so.

“Hey,” he says and gently tilts my face up to his. “Don’t hide from me.”

I close my eyes. “It’s stupid, but… when I’m with you, I forget what I look like.”

Warm lips press against my forehead. “I don’t want you to be self-conscious around me. I know what you look like, and I like what I see. I like it a lot. I think that part is pretty obvious.”

I blush at the reference to his hard-on, which is pressed firmly against my belly. “Old habits, I guess.”

He backs away enough to bend his knees, and he scoops me into his arms. “To do this properly, I’m going to need more room to roam.”

I lock my hands behind his neck. “I can walk, you know.”

“I know.” He unlocks the front door and kicks it open. “But why deprive me of the opportunity to go all caveman on your ass.” He takes me to his bedroom and places me back onto my feet just inside the doorway.

“I really hope that doesn’t mean what it sounds like because I am not ready to take that step,” I say through barely withheld giggles.

“Not yet, but we’ll work up to that.” He puts his mouth to my ear. “Turn around,” he says darkly.

I do as he asks but cover my butt with my hands.

He snort-chuckles.

I peer over my shoulder. “What? I’m being extra cautious—whoa.” My jaw falls open just as he pulls his dress pants off and tosses them onto a nearby leather chair. He tugs off his socks, unbuttons his shirt, and drops it on top of the rest of his clothes until he’s standing in nothing but black boxer briefs.

My own personal Calvin Klein underwear model.

Must be some pretty sturdy cotton to keep the massive erection contained within.

My hands slip back to my sides.

He eyes my backside, lifts his brows, and smirks. “Have a change of heart then?”

I swallow hard. My body’s need overwhelms any desire for caution. “I may have, yeah.”

He throws his head back and laughs, the sound so pure and joyous it gives me the confidence to know I caused it. “We’ll get there, but not tonight.”

I grip the hem of my dress and, with a quick shift of my hips and a wiggle, I manage to peel myself out of the skintight fabric. I shove my hair out of my face and find Kingston staring at me with wide eyes and wonder.

He crosses to me in one step. His gaze slides down my throat, between my lace-cupped breasts, over my ribs to my hip, and between my legs. He runs his finger along the line of my lace panties from my hip to inches below my belly button. I suck in a shaky breath, expecting him to tug my panties to the floor, but instead, his finger backtracks the way it came. Back and forth, he teases the seam of my underwear with a barely-there touch.

“You’re teasing,” I say, almost to the point of panting.

“I’m not,” he says, never taking his eyes off his hand as it makes another pass along my skin. “I’m savoring.” He tilts his head and watches his fingertip change direction and head up to stop at the underswell of my breast. I bite my lip, ready for his touch against the sensitive tip that is beaded and begging. I arch my back, a silent request for him to take. “I’ve thought so long and hard about this moment,” he whispers. “About where I would start if I got the chance to touch you. The roadmaps I’d follow in order to experience every part of you.”

My mind spins with what he’s telling me. That he has thought about me in a sexual way at all is enough to blow my mind, but to think that he’s been feeling this way and holding himself back? I have to know… “Why? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

His head is tilted forward, and he peers through the longish, messy locks of his hair. “You’re not the only one with a reason to want to hide away.”

Of course—his dyslexia. He hides what he considers to be his weakness, just as I hide my scar.

“You know I don’t care about—” I suck in a hissed breath when he cups my breasts and squeezes, not hard enough to hurt, but just enough to send a rush of liquid heat through me.

He brushes his thumb against my nipple, then leans in and sucks it between his teeth over my bra. The lash of his tongue over lace, the wetness of his mouth, and the heat combine to build an ache between my legs. I clench my thighs together. Shift from foot to foot. Nothing works to put out the flame. Instead, every movement kindles the sparks to a flame.

His arm wraps around my lower back and forces our hips together. His teeth clamp down around the tip of my breast, and he folds over me. I hold on to his shoulders, my head falling back, while he licks, bites, and kisses my breast. He pulls back to check out his handy work. The skin is red and protruding, pressing hard against the black lace cage of my bra. “You’re sexy as fuck,” he says in a voice that carries a million dirty promises.

“So are you,” I squeak out.

He pulls me upright and kisses me, and there’s nothing gentle about this kiss. Nothing even remotely polite. He plunges his tongue between my teeth, bites, and sucks my lips. He takes. Overpowers. Conquers.

He keeps a hold on me, and we move across the room. The chair hits the backs of my legs, and he presses me down. His mouth still on mine, he drops to his knees between my legs. His trembling hands run up my bare thighs. He hooks his fingers into the elastic at my hips. “May I?” The question is spoken against my parted lips.

I nod and lift to help him slip my panties off.

He sits back on his heels, his eyes like smoldering embers as they blaze a trail along my skin and settle between my legs. My mind screams to cover up, to be ashamed of my nudity, afraid that he might not like what he sees. I shift nervously in the chair and hate all the space between us, the space to see all my physical flaws and inadequacies.

“Come here.” I reach for him, only to have him grasp my hand and press it to his lips.

“Not yet.” His gaze drops slowly down my body. “I’m not done looking at you yet.” One more kiss to my wrist, and he releases my hand. He shifts forward, wedging his torso between my knees. His long fingers slip up my thighs, back down, and press my legs further apart. “Relax,” he whispers. “You have no idea how fucking beautiful you are.” He lifts his chin toward the back of the chair. “Lean back.”

Leaning back means scootching my butt forward, and with my legs wide apart, it brings my pussy closer to his face. He notices, licks his lips, then lowers his head between my legs.

He licks up my inner thigh and stops just shy of where I need him most. Switching to the other thigh, he repeats the delicious torture. Back and forth, he tempts me while inching closer and closer.

My legs shake with anticipation. My hands grip the chair to keep from grabbing his hair and forcing the contact.

He blows against my wet, sensitive skin, making me shiver and bringing goosebumps to the surface.

“Stop teasing,” I say breathlessly. “It’s mean.”

He pushes off his heels and kisses my stomach, where I feel him smile against my skin. “I like playing with my food.” He kisses down between my legs, and I bite my lip in anticipation of what’s coming.

Rather than feel his tongue, I feel the brush of his fingers as he runs them between my legs with a featherlight touch. A soft growl escapes me, and I dig my heels into the floor and shift myself forward, chasing after more.

His dark chuckle fills the air around me, but he continues to tease me with his fingers. “Easy, Bee. Let me play a little longer. Then, I’ll give you what you want.”

I try to hold on, I really do, but he plays my body as if it were his own and he’s learned all the ways to drive me wild. I shake with need. My legs lose the ability to hold me up, and I can’t take another second of this agonizing emptiness.

“No.” I slide off the chair and onto his lap in a straddle.

We moan in unison when my hot, wet center meets the solid line of his erection that is barely contained in cotton.

“Fuck.” He grabs my hips, and I worry he might push me off, but instead, he pulls me tighter against him and rolls his hips forward, grinding his heavy girth against me. “You’re going to make me come.”

I hold on to his shoulders and move my hips in a circle. “Me first.”

“If you say so,” he says playfully and puts me on my back. His mouth comes down on me hard. His tongue spears into my mouth the way his hard-on probes at my entrance.

I reach down and free his erection with clumsy hands. He’s thick, heavy, and hot in my palm. I wrap my fingers as best I can and stroke. He hisses and thrusts into my hand, a preview of what he’s going to do to my body.

“I need to be inside you,” he breathes against my throat.

“Yes.”

“Condom.” He reaches into his pants, which are hanging haphazardly off the chair, and fishes out a foil package.

“I’m on the pill.”

He drops his boxer briefs. I try—and fail—not to stare. He’s so much bigger than I would’ve expected. I knew every part of Kingston would be beautiful, and that much is true. But the size of him catches me by surprise.

“We’ll talk about safety for next time,” he says and reclaims his kneeling position between my legs. “Right now, I want you to trust me, and I need to get inside you.”

“So you’re saying there will be a next time,” I say and smirk.

I expect him to fall over me, pin me to the floor, and sink deep inside. I gasp when he folds over me only to hook his arms around me and pull me upright, straddled over his thighs.

“There will be a next time.” He grips my ass in two hands and slides me forward until the tip of his hard-on wedges against my core. “Many, many next times.”

“We’ll see about tha—” I gasp when he thrusts forward, burying himself inside me.

He doesn’t move, giving my body a moment to adjust to his size. He slides his hands up my back and into my hair, fisting the length, and bringing our lips together. “I’m sorry, what was it you were saying?”

“All the next times,” I say, feeling stretched, full, and wanting more.

“Mmm.” He nuzzles my throat and kisses along my jaw. “All the next times. I’ll never get enough of you.”

“Kingston.”

“Yeah, Bee?”

“Move.”

Kingston

Move.

I have to stay present, stay cautious and careful, because if I let go, if I release all the pent-up desire, I’d probably scare the shit out of her.

This is not how I saw tonight playing out in my mind. I wanted her on the bed. I wanted to taste her, feel her come against my tongue. My fingers. But an urgency drives us that can no longer be ignored. We need to fuck. Then, I can go back and take care of her properly. Like a gentleman.

I wrap her legs around me and slide my hands up her back to unfasten her bra. The straps fall down her arms, and I toss the scrap of lace aside. Her breasts are full, round, and tipped with dark pink nipples. I flex my hips, and she arches her back, pressing her tits up in offering. I lick, suck, and bite at the firm peaks.

She tastes like cinnamon and sugar—sweet and hot.

She falls back on one arm, laying her body out before me, and I grip her hips to slide her against my dick, watching myself disappear into her sex and then slowly pulling out.

“We look so fucking sexy together.”

She moans, rolls her hips, and I can’t stand it another second. I need to taste her.

I release my hold and drop her backside to the ground. She gasps when I pull out of her and then sighs loudly when I lick between her legs.

She buries her hands in my hair, holds me to her as if she fears I won’t finish the job. Not a fucking chance. I lose myself in the feel of her—the dripping heat, sweet flavor, and sounds she makes that seem to emanate from her chest.

I have wanted this for so long. To pleasure her with my mouth, to consume her, ravish her, bring her the kind of ecstasy that she’d never want from another man. Make her feel so good that she’d come back for more and never want to leave.

Her release hits like an electric shock. Her body is like a live wire. She arches her back and explodes against my tongue. Her grip on my hair is tight to the point of stinging, and something about the pain makes my own orgasm swell to the surface. She rides my tongue until the final shockwaves subside and then falls limp to the floor.

I kiss the inside of her thigh and watch the rapid rise and fall of her chest until it slows. “You good?”

“So fucking good.”

I hide a secret smile against her skin. “I hope you still have something left because we aren’t done yet.”

She props herself up on her elbows, her hair a mess, cheeks pink, and eyelids half-mast. “You bet your ass I have some left. Years’ worth, actually.”

My dick is painfully hard. I grip it in my fist and stand. Her eyes follow my movement, her gaze particularly invested in my throbbing hard-on. She scrambles to her feet, and I lift my chin to the bed. She turns and heads that way, her naked ass swaying the entire way. Crawling onto the bed, I follow her down. With my knee to the mattress, I settle between her legs. I slip inside her, inch by painstakingly slow inch. Our kiss is unhurried, lazy, as if we had all night and all day tomorrow. I move inside her with intentional strokes, changing the angle of my hips to hit every possible spot and drown in the sexy sounds each one coaxes from her lips.

I keep my pace even, knowing if I give in to the drive, I’ll come too fast. But being inside Gabriella, the tight grip of her body combined with her slick tongue in my mouth sends my self-control out the window. My hips kick a little quicker, a little harder, and she claws at my ass in encouragement. Our kiss turns frantic. Tension and heat coil at the base of my spine. My muscles flex, and I thrust harder.

“Yes,” she says against my lips. “Don’t stop.”

I push up onto my hands and hook her leg with my arm, opening her wider, sinking in deeper. She holds my wrists, hanging on, grounding herself while I pound her mercilessly into the mattress.

Stars explode behind my eyes, and my release comes barreling to the surface. My hips shoot forward, planted deep. My orgasm washes over me in unrelenting waves. I fall on top of her in a useless heap and bury my face in her neck.

“Good God, woman. You’re going to be the death of me.”

Her deep chuckle is sexy as fuck. She wraps her arms around me, and her legs do the same at my hips.

I roll to my back, taking her with me, and I fucking love the way she settles against my chest—nose to my throat, hair splayed over my shoulder, and her warm, sexy body all over mine.

Her stomach growls.

“Shit,” I say, smiling, because honestly, how could I not smile. I’m naked in bed with a woman I never thought I’d get a chance with. “I never fed you.” I slap her ass. “Come on, let’s eat.”

“In a minute.” She sounds more relaxed than I’ve ever heard her, and hell if that doesn’t make my chest swell with manly pride.

I press a kiss to her head and run my fingers through her hair. “Take all the time you need.”

I mean it. Even if she needs forever.