Page 16 of Devotion

“Yes. He’s really good at reading and writing. His mom taught him. She said it didn’t matter whether he’d ever need it in a job. He still should know how. He’s the one who taught Carrie and me. My sister.”

Gabriel nods as if he’s interested, but he doesn’t say anything else. And by the time I’ve put my gifts up and returned to my window seat, he’s deep into his papers again.

I read a new book I got from the palace library for a couple of hours until I realize that Gabriel has straightened up and is looking at me.

I put down my book, and my heart gives a silly jump when he makes a summoning gesture with his hand.

Rising to my feet, I’m unbuttoning my bodice as I come toward him. He’s scooted the chair away and turned it to line up with the small rug we added by the desk to cushion my knees.

He leans forward so I can massage his upper back as well as his shoulders, gradually moving my hands up until I’m pressing into the tense spots on his head. He’s still incredibly quiet as I work on him—the only signs of pleasure and relaxation are the long, raspy breaths he takes and the slow softening of his muscles. I spend almost a minute on that tender place at the base of his skull, digging my knuckles into it until he finally lets loose and groans.

I love when he groans like that. Thick and lingering and carnal. It might be soft, but it’s also helpless. Like there’s no way he can hold it back.

It’s only then that I move around to the front of his chair. He parts his legs as I kneel on the thick rug, rubbing his chest for just a minute before I slide my hands down to the buttons on his trousers.

He’s almost fully erect by the time I draw out his cock.

He’s not always. Sometimes he’s so stressed and distracted that it takes longer to get him all the way hard. But I’ve always been able to do it.

Today it’s obviously not an issue. I run a finger along the tip of his shaft to wipe away the drop of moisture there. Then I lower my head and take him in my mouth.

He holds my head in both hands, letting out textured sighs as I hollow out my cheeks and begin to suck. He fills my mouth. He smells warm and natural and familiar. His back arches slightly as I suck a little harder. His hands get more entitled, guiding my head with the rhythm he wants.

I love it. Love how he doesn’t question this anymore. That he knows it’s his—I’m his—whenever he wants.

One of his hands slides down to curve around the back of my neck. Then he groans again and leans back in his chair.

I’m throbbing all over, the way I always do when I get to please him this way. I’m acutely attuned to every detail and nuance of his body, so I notice immediately when something changes.

Slanting my eyes up toward his face, I see he’s closed his eyes, his face turned away from me. He’s still holding my head in place at his groin and guiding its speed and motion, but it feels like he’s drifting.

Sometimes he’s so stressed about his work that he has trouble focusing on reaching climax, but that’s not what this feels like. It’s more like he’s lost in vague sensations.

Maybe it shouldn’t matter, but I want him to be focused onme. So I moan around his cock. That always gets his attention.

His eyes open, angle down at me. Watch me sucking him intimately. “Oh fuck,” he breathes out. “Faster. Do it faster.”

I speed up my rhythm as his hands get tighter on my head. I love when he gives me instructions—that he knows he’s allowed—so a deep wave of heated pleasure washes over me.

“That’s right.” He shifts slightly in his chair like he can’t quite keep his hips still. “Now you’ve got it good.”

My jaw muscles are getting sore, but I’m barely aware of the discomfort in another wave of pleasure from the small compliment.

He directs my head more urgently. I take him deeper because I know that’s what he needs. He chokes on the word “Fuck!” as his body starts to shake.

I barely get my mouth off him before he’s coming with a series of guttural sounds and jerks of his hips. I manage to get my hand around the base of his cock so I can squeeze him through the spurts of his release.

His semen ends up on my chin, my cheek, my chest. I’m still squeezing gently when he’s finally finished since I’m not quite ready to let him go.

He’s slouched in his desk chair, flushed and visibly sated. He’s still holding my head.

When I meet his eyes, I smile at him. I’m hot all over and a little achy between my legs.

“Thank you, Jess,” he murmurs hoarsely, giving my hair a brief caress with one hand. “That was really good today.”

“You’re welcome,” I tell him, trying to hide how pleased and happy I am because he might find my reaction silly. “I’m glad it was good.”

I tuck him back into his underwear and button up his trousers before I get up. We used the entire fifteen minutes—it’s actually been sixteen—so I don’t rub his shoulders again the way I sometimes do. I head for the bathroom as he moves his chair back into position at his desk.

---