He’d been so looking forward to that…he sighed, and smiled wickedly down at her. Things to look forward to. He could see that they were small, dark against her pale skin, and tightly budded.
He pressed her down into the bed; kissing her hard and fast. Her tongue darted out, bold, sure. It twinned with his and then retreated. It was exciting to know that he was kissing her, he was making love to her. It was different than having a woman make love to him, though he was certain, judging by her earlier fit of aggression, that they’d get around to that…perhaps when she called in one of her vouchers.
Imogen reached up and slid her hands into Gabriel’s hair. He had wonderful hair; thick and dark with a nary a curl to it. He was lying fully atop her, weight crushing her into the mattress, kissing her hungrily. His teeth clashed with hers in his urgency, and then he suddenly abandoned her mouth and began to work his way down her neck to her breasts, where his hands were already busy, stroking and rolling her nipples between his thumb and forefinger. He replaced his hand with his mouth. She gasped and arched.
Gabriel smiled, his teeth still lightly gripping her nipple. She could feel the smile against her skin more than she could see it. His hand slid down her stomach, and curved in along her inner thigh. Imogen moved her thighs apart, too eager to be missish, and he slid his long clever fingers into her cleft, lightly stroking her until he found the exact spot he was looking for, just as he had in the garden. He slid further down the bed, so that he was resting on his stomach between her thighs, watching his hand upon her.
Imogen studied him in the dim light. The lean torso, the sculpted perfection of his back, the solid muscle of his shoulders. He really was beautiful.
You weren’t supposed to say that about a man, but he was. He was more than handsome; or something other than merely handsome. Naked, he was glorious; smooth, and golden, in a thoroughly un-English way.
When her breathing hitched he stopped sliding his thumb up and down over the ridge he’d called her throne, and instead slid one long finger into her, and then another. Her whole body went rigid and she stared down at him.
Gabriel chuckled and pushed her thighs further apart, leaning in to lick her. Imogen clapped both hands over her mouth, barely cutting off the shriek she couldn’t prevent.
Perrin had never done anything her mother had not prepared her for in the rather startling speech she’d given Imogen the night before her wedding. This had certainly not been part of that lecture.
When she’d heard her friends mention this as one of their favourite types of bed sport, she’d always been vaguely repulsed. It just didn’t sound like the sort of thing one would enjoy. Now she understood their glowing reports. What Gabriel was doing was simply amazing.
He had an indecently talented tongue.
He slid one arm under her thigh and brought it up and around her hip, his hand splayed out on her belly, lightly holding her down. She couldn’t take much more, he was simply going to have to stop.
She tried to say his name, but couldn’t catch her breath enough to do so. She tugged at his hair, she pulled one leg up and put her foot on his shoulder and shoved, all to no avail; he had her fast. She bit the heel of her hand, forcibly cutting off a shriek she simply couldn’t stifle. She’d never been loud in bed, but somehow knowing she had to be quiet made everything feel more intense…or maybe that was just Gabriel.
Gabriel was more than a little amused by Imogen’s reaction to having his mouth and hands on her in such a delightfully intimate way. She could pull his hair all she wanted, he wasn’t about to stop until he’d driven her right over the cliff.
He’d been imagining and dreaming about doing this with his nymph for at least a month now, and he wasn’t going to be denied. She was holding her breath now, only occasionally taking loud, gasping breaths. Luckily the rooms on either side of hers were occupied by men who’d likely be downstairs for hours yet. When she began to whimper and thrash he knew she was close. The leg which she had been using to try and dislodge him had stopped pushing against his shoulder, and was now trembling against him, her thigh pressed hard against his shoulder.
Gabriel tore himself away, laughing as she whimpered in protest, and dug the box out from under the pillow. He flipped it open, the scent of brandy filling his nostrils.
Imogen stared at him, confusion writ plainly on her face. He pulled the brandy-soaked sponge from the box and held it up. ‘Simple whore’s trick.’ She frowned, then jumped as he circled her engorged flesh with the cold sponge. ‘And damned effective in my experience.’
He licked the brandy from her, moving the sponge down her cleft, guiding it up inside her as he sucked. She began to tremble again, hands clutching at him, legs moving restlessly. She gave one last muffled shriek, her whole body bucking and then going rigid.
Satisfied, Gabriel stopped, raising his head to watch her face. She looked dazed. Shocked. She looked thoroughly replete.
He wiped his chin with one hand. Imogen drew several gasping breaths, letting them shudder back out. Gabriel smiled, working his way up her torso, returning to her breasts to suckle and tease her out of her lethargy.
Imogen wriggled and gasped when he bit down on her breast with a little more force than he’d used before, arching her back and pressing her breast up towards him. He slid up a
