Page 19 of Scoundrel for Sale
Abbie found herself overwhelmed by this, the sign of Gabe’s still urgent need. She wanted to give him the same exquisite pleasure he had just bestowed upon her. She rolled onto her back, tugging at his shoulders, encouraging him to follow her. He instead rose and unbuttoned the falls of his pantaloons so roughly she was surprised the fabric didn’t rend.
Once the pantaloons were in a heap on the floor, he reached for the glass of water on the nightstand and fished out one of the translucent sheaths floating inside. Abbie watched him slide it over his straining shaft, which was significantly larger than her husband’s had been, and felt a pang of nerves. The lovemaking act had been uncomfortable enough with George. What if she simply wasn’t cut out for this kind of thing, in spite of Gabe’s legendary skill? She was still determined to try, but she found herself feeling uncertain, in spite of the pleasure he had given her moments ago.
Gabe secured the ribbon with surprising speed, given how much his hands were shaking. Grabbing one of the folded hand towels, he dabbed off the excess moisture, then took up the bottle of oil and poured a few drops onto his palm. His gaze roamed hungrily across Abbie’s naked body as he smoothed the oil up and down his length. She could see the pleasure in his eyes as he stroked his own cock, and heat rose in her cheeks.
Much to Abbie’s surprise, instead of entering her at once, the way George would have done, Gabe reached up and seized one of the pillows. He folded it in half and carefully positioned it beneath her hips.
It was on the tip of her tongue to ask what he was doing when Gabe slowly began to slide inside her. That was when she realized just how different tonight was from her prior lovemaking experiences. Thanks to the pleasure he had given her earlier, everything between her legs was deliciously slick, and much to her wonder, she felt no discomfort, none at all, even as he seated himself to the hilt. Slowly, lifting his head so he could watch her the whole time, he began sliding in and out.
Abbie had never much enjoyed this portion of lovemaking—or any portion, truth be told—at least, when her partner had been her deceased husband. But this felt… different. Maybe it was Gabe’s gorgeous body lying atop hers, perfect beneath her fingertips. Maybe it was the fact that her body was already humming with desire. Or maybe it was the angle created by the pillow.
But Gabe’s cock sliding in and out of her felt interesting in a way she had never experienced before.
She glanced up to find him studying her intently. A vein popped out on his forehead as he shifted his weight backward. Suddenly Abbie’s hands were grasping fistfuls of the bedclothes. Because that spot he was rubbing against, that felt… that felt…
A wolfish grin snaked its way across Gabe’s face. “Aha, there it is.”
Abbie’s breath was coming in pants. “There’s… there’s what?”
“The spot I was looking for.” Gabe rocked back another inch as he continued his thrusts, and Abbie gasped in pleasure.
The sensations built and built, a beautiful tide rising within her, the anticipation of it spilling over exquisite.
But then, Gabe surprised her by threading a hand between their bodies. “Gabe?” she asked as his warm palm slid across her stomach. “What are you d-do… Oh.”
Her head fell back as his fingers again found that magical spot between her legs, the same one he had used to bring her such exquisite pleasure earlier. All the while, he continued thrusting inside of her, and the combination was devastating. She lasted mere seconds before another climax overwhelmed her. Never had Abbie felt so out of control of her body as she was wracked with wave after unrelenting wave of pleasure, her body shaking like a rag doll upon the bed.
On the edge of her consciousness, she became aware of his strokes growing faster, more frantic. And then his body hardened to iron atop hers, and he cried out as he spasmed inside her.
Gabe collapsed on top of her, burying his face in the pillow next to hers. She stroked her fingers over the smooth skin of his back, which was slick with the barest sheen of sweat.
After a moment, Gabe raised his head and kissed her tenderly, then settled beside her, cradling her head upon his shoulder.
After a few minutes, Gabe’s heartbeat slowed beneath her ear. Abbie gave him a squeeze. “Well, that was worth every penny.”
The rumble of Gabe’s chuckle filled her ear. “Good. I just wish…”
He trailed off as if remembering himself. But Abbie suspected she knew what he had almost said—that he wished this would not be their only night together.
She felt precisely the same way. But it was impossible. He needed a great heiress.
And, barring a great miracle, she was going to have to marry her tormentor, Nigel Davies.
Gabe cleared his throat. “So, I think your latest letter and I must’ve passed each other in the night. Literally. How have you been?”
Abbie traced her hand over the firm planes of his chest, considering her answer. A part of her didn’t want to waste a second of their one and only night together on sad thoughts.
But this was Gabe, her last remaining confidant, and the temptation to unburden herself after months of carrying her problems alone was even stronger.
“Not so well, truth be told. Did you receive the letter I sent you in May? The one that mentioned the papers I found in the attic of the dower house?”
“The ones belonging to Carlotta de Noronha? Of course.” He rubbed her shoulder. “How did old Nigel take the news?”
Abbie settled her head more comfortably on his shoulder. “Even worse than I feared. You see…”
Chapter 8
Lymington, Hampshire
