Page 14 of His Fantasy Bride (Things To Do Before You Die)

A groan of relief tore from his throat as his cock sprang free. She tugged his pants down over his hips and he kicked them off and was naked in front of her.

“So beautiful,” she murmured, her fingers trailing fire over his stomach and thighs, teasing over his cock so it jerked toward her with a life and a will of its own.

Finally, she wrapped her hand around him and squeezed. “I always wondered what you would look like naked. What your cock would feel like.”

The words niggled in his mind, something wasn’t quite right, but he pushed the doubt aside because the feel of her small hand gripping his shaft was making his blood boil. This was happening. He could worry about her words later.

Then she looked up into his face, lips parted, cheeks flushed as she slowly lowered herself to her knees at his feet. Leaning forward, she let her warm breath feather over his cock, and his every muscle clenched up tight.

She hesitated for what seemed like a year but was probably only a few seconds, and he reached out, his hands slipping into the silky hair at her nape. “Gabrielle,” he urged.

She lifted her gaze to him and backed away slightly. “Gabby,” she said. “Call me Gabby.”

At that moment he would have called her absolutely anything. “Please, Gabby.”

She smiled and lowered her head, and at the first touch of those soft lips, his world stopped turning. Everything vanished from his consciousness except the warm wetness engulfing him. She slid her mouth over him as far as she could go, then drew back.

He had to bite down a growl as she raised her head, but then her soft, wet tongue was stroking his balls, up the length of his shaft, circling the head. She took him inside again, her hand squeezing the base as she suckled the tip.

He had no clue how long it went on, as he gave himself over to the sensations of pure pleasure pouring through him, building at the base of his spine, his balls tightening. She must have sensed he was close, as the suction increased and her hand slid up and down his length. Then she cupped his balls, squeezed, and he crashed over the edge, pleasure shooting down his cock, flooding his balls, running up his spine so that he had to tighten the muscles of his legs so as not to crash to his knees.

Finally, the pumping of his hips slowed. His hand was still in her hair, and he loosened his grip as she gave the tip of his cock one last kiss.

She looked up at him and grinned. “Why the hell didn’t we do that before?”

His mind was clearing, and he didn’t want to think about that question, because he had no clue about the answer. But he was guessing Gabby knew. Only Gabby.

Right now, he felt too good to contemplate the question.

Something else for later.

He held out his hand to her. She raised a brow but reached up and slipped her fingers into his, and he pulled her to her feet. He had a favor to return, and his mouth watered at the thought. He was going to make her scream his name, and afterward they would talk—but that was a long way off.

He stood and looked at her for a minute, taking in the flushed cheeks, the nipples poking at the front of her T-shirt. He wanted to see them, and hooked his fingers in the hem and tugged the shirt over her head, leaving her in a pale pink satin and lace bra. He recognized it as part of a set he’d bought her as a present. He’d liked buying her underwear even if, back then, he’d never gotten to see her in it.

“Nice,” he murmured.

“You’re a man with taste.”

Reaching behind her, she unfastened the bra, peeled it from her shoulders then tossed it to the floor. Her breasts were exquisite, full without being too big, the skin pale, and the nipples deep pink with tight little nubs.

His dick came back to life at the sight, filling, stiffening. Time to move this on, and then… He remembered the feel of being deep inside her, and heat coiled in his belly.

He cupped her breasts briefly before sliding his hands down the deep indentation of her waist, over her denim covered hips. He bent slightly so he could shift his palms lower, to her bare thighs beneath the skirt, then glide them upward pushing the material out of his way to cup her ass through the satin of her panties. He glanced at her face—her eyes were half closed and her lower lip was caught between her teeth. Searching the room, his eyes settled on the mahogany dining table. It seemed appropriate. Stepping in close, he lifted her from the floor and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, clinging on as he walked her backward to rest her ass on the edge of the table. His hands shoved her skirt up further and her thighs parted, baring the pale pink panties.

He rested a palm on the soft skin of her belly, pushing her gently until she lay flat on her back. Lowering his head, he sucked a nipple into his mouth; she tasted as sweet as he remembered. Then he stood and reviewed his handiwork. She looked wanton sprawled out in front of him. All for him. To do with as he liked.

A wanton stranger.

He pushed the thought away. Yet another thing to consider later. He trailed a finger over the silk, where he could clearly see the line between the folds of her sex. He slipped one finger beneath the lace and found her slippery with desire. The knowledge that she wanted him twisted some need deep inside. Whatever her reasons for running, right now, in this moment, she wanted him. He’d make her come so hard that she’d never want another man. Never run again.

“Christo, you’re wet.”

She didn’t deign to answer, but her chest rose and fell with her rapid breaths.

The panties needed to go.

Hooking a finger in either side, he slid them down her legs, tossed them to the floor, and stared. She was almost cleanly shaved, with just a thin strip of golden curls covering her sex. Her lips were swollen and her clit pouted out from between, glistening with desire.

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