Page 3 of The Heiress's First Date

I slide my fingers into his hair and tug just enough to make him wince.

“I’m done with the toy.”

His eyebrows wiggle. Naughty, naughty man.

“Is that right?” He licks me again. “Hold your dress, Princess.”

I do as he asks, scrunching the skirt beneath my breasts so I can watch him.

His palms slide across my skin. “Do you need something,” he tugs the vibrator gently, “less mechanical?”

The silicone slides free, leaving me empty, pussy clutching at nothing. Tossing the toy aside, he groans and leans into me again. “You’re so flushed. Dripping. It’s sexy as fuck.”

If anyone else was giving me such a thorough inspection and a blow-by-blow of my lady parts, I might dissolve with mortification. But Gabe is such a scientist. So analytical. And right now, he seems thoroughly bemused, almost proud to have made my body react in such a way.

Spreading my lower lips with one hand, he presses his other arm across my hips, holding me to the wall.

I drop my head back and close my eyes. My senses are on overload. Every breath he takes teases me. But it’s not enough. Not nearly enough.

“Look at the mess you’ve made for me.” The pride in his voice brings another rush of moisture, which he, of course, notices and groans happily. He licks a straight line up to my clit, feathering back and forth, then slowly circles, driving me mad.

“Mmm.”

He hooks his hand beneath my leg and drapes it over his shoulder. I keep one hand speared through his hair. Those talented fingers dive back between my legs, holding me open for his mouth.

Then he eats me out like a man who hasn’t dined for a week. It’s messy and noisy and fucking perfect. He thrusts a long finger into me, curling it just right and a tiny firework zings through my veins, prepping me for what’s to come.

But then he leans back, taking those lips away from where I need them most.

My eyelids pop open. “Gabe?—”

He kisses my thigh and groans. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you say my name just like that.”

“I need you.”

“I know you do, honey. But we should wait for our friends.”

I hum in displeasure only because I was spiraling up that mountain of pleasure at breakneck speed. He’s not wrong, though. The idea of the four of us together sends a fresh burst of heat over my skin.

“You could always forbid me from coming,” I say, but it sounds like a plea. What can I say? I love having his mouth between my thighs.

“You really are a vixen, aren’t you?”

It’s not a no.

I smile.

“Is that what you want? Me teasing you until you’re begging for it? ’Til you’re boneless and growling my name? Can you promise you won’t come?”

Can I?

It sounded good at the time, but his pleasure is impossible to miss. It leaches into his voice, his touch, the throaty growls that turn me inside out.

He nips my hip bone and then kisses a path along the line between my leg and hip. Across my mound to my other hip. Everywhere but where I need him most.

“Please—”

“Promise me.” He pauses over my clit, and I feel his heat.

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