25. Gabriel

25

GAbrIEL

M aking her come on my hand in my Ferrari is another fantasy explored, but I need more room for what I want to do to her. I reach over, opening the door as I let go of her for a moment, and hold out my hand as I step out of the car.

Bella claps a hand over her mouth, stifling a giggle.

“What?” I look at her confusedly, and she glances down at my cock—still rock-hard, glistening from both of our arousal, and pressed nearly flat against my stomach.

“It’s just—a little weird,” she whispers. “We’re outside. And you’re half-naked. But it’s also—” She swallows hard. “It’s also really hot.”

I let my gaze rake over her, taking in her messy hair, her flushed cheeks, her swollen lips. Her dress, pushed up above her knees, fallen to one side so that I can just get a glimpse of the soaked strip of nude-colored fabric between her thighs.

I feel like a teenager again, trying to convince the girl I’m with to let me get to third base. And while it was frustrating back then—now, with Bella, it’s insanely erotic. Telling her what I want to do to her, moaning it against her lips as I spread her arousal over my cock and stroke myself, the taste of her still on my mouth with the promise of more—I’ve never known anything could be so good. Every sexual experience I’ve ever had fades in comparison to this, and I know I’m in trouble.

“So are you,” I murmur, and then I reach out, taking her hand and tugging her out of the car.

It feels good, to be able to touch her with ease. I wouldn’t have thought, less than a week ago, that I would ever be able to touch her at all. I’m impressed with how easily she’s moved forward with me, how much trust she’s placed in me. But I’ve always known Bella was tough.

And she’s determined. In this case, I’m glad to be the recipient of that determination.

Letting her go is going to be nearly impossible. Except?—

The novelty always wears off eventually. Always . Even when I’ve been in love, sex gets stale. It’s impossible for it not to, when it’s with the same person, over and over again. There are only so many positions, so many things to try, and most women are only interested in a handful.

But with Bella, I feel like I’d never get tired of exploring her. Never get tired of teaching her all of the pleasures that are possible—and I’m never frustrated with her when she wants to slow down or stop, either.

With her, everything feels different.

I lead her around to the front of the car, my hands falling onto her hips as I lean in to kiss her again. “I know how much you like the Ferrari,” I murmur, dragging my tongue over her lower lip. “How do you feel about getting eaten out on the hood of it?”

Bella’s soft, whimpering gasp is the only answer I need. I slide my hands up to her waist, gently leaning her back so that her ass is on the edge of the hood. I reach down, gliding my palm over one calf and then the other as I position her feet on the front bumper. And then I lean in, kissing her again, one hand on her chest as I lay her back on the car.

She moans as I slide my hand down her stomach, fisting the material of her dress in my hand as I slowly pull it up. Bella is an exquisite torment—with any other woman I would do this quickly, roughly, using that to show her how much I want her. I would let my desire set the pace, and nothing else. But I have to go slowly with Bella, touch her gently, ease her into it, and even though it means tempering my desire until we can both have what we want, it makes the pleasure at the end a thousand times better.

I never knew how fucking good delayed gratification could be until now.

When her skirt is up around her hips, I reach up, gently hooking my fingers in the edge of her panties. “I want these off,” I growl, my fingers pressing against her sharp hipbones. “But that’s up to you, Bella. Off, or on?”

She arches her back, her breath fast and quick. “Off,” she begs, and my cock jolts, aching for relief.

The feeling only intensifies when I slide her panties down her hips and over her legs, tucking them into my pocket. I slide my hands up her inner thighs, ignoring the steady pulse of my own need as I take in the sight of her bare and vulnerable, exposed to my gaze, soft and swollen and dripping wet for me.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” I breathe. “I can’t fucking wait to taste you.”

Bella laughs, a shuddering, breathless sound that devolves into another moan as I trail a finger down her folds. “Then—hurry up—and give me your tongue—Gabriel—” she gasps, each word cracking as I tease her with the tip of one finger, unable to tear my eyes away from her. She’s the most beautiful fucking thing I’ve ever seen, spread out on the hood of my Ferrari, her chestnut hair wild around her face and her hands above her head, her back arched as she begs for my mouth on her pussy.

I’m never going to jerk off to anything else for the rest of my life, except for this memory, right here.

“Good girl,” I murmur, leaning in to press a kiss just below her navel. “I love when you beg for it.”

And then I drag my mouth down, sealing my lips against her drenched pussy as I slide my tongue over her clit.

The sound Bella makes is one I’ll never forget. It’s a moan that crescendoes into a cry, sinking back down into a sobbing moan as I swirl my tongue around her clit, licking and fluttering over it as I reach up to push two fingers into her. She tastes so fucking sweet, everything about her as perfect as if I dreamed her into existence, and I want to tell her all of that—but I can’t drag my mouth away from her pussy long enough to say any of it. I suction my lips around her clit, still licking, devouring her like a starving man, and Bella’s cries turn desperate as I thrust my fingers into her, wanting her to come on my face.

“Gabriel!” She shrieks my name, arching up as her hand claws into my hair, one hand on the hood of the Ferrari as she half-sits up, her back bowing. “Fuck, Gabriel— fuck!”

Her arousal floods my tongue, her hips grinding against my face as she comes for me, the force of it almost bruising, but I couldn’t care less. She grips my fingers like a vise, clit pulsing against my tongue, and all I can think is that I’d fucking die for the chance to get inside of her. My neglected cock strains, pre-cum flowing down my shaft until I almost think I’ve lost control, and I can tell I’m on the edge. It won’t take long for my release.

Bella falls back against the hood, gasping, and I keep my fingers buried in her as I fumble in my pocket with my other hand.

“I want you to come one more time for me,” I murmur, raising my head long enough to look up at her, flushed and wrecked, spread across my car. “While I finish myself off.”

“I want to—” She gasps it, breathless, and I shake my head, my hand on her stomach as I hold her there, gently.

“I’m going to wrap those drenched panties around my cock, and use them while I come, Bella. And you’re going to come on my tongue again like a good girl while I do.” I lean down, dragging my tongue over her clit. “Can you do that for me?”

“Ye—yes—” She moans as I lick her clit again, lapping gently at it. “Oh god, Gabriel, how many times?—”

“At least once more.” I reach down, stroking myself once with my bare hand, spreading her arousal down the length of my cock. I suck in a sharp breath as I wrap the wet, silky fabric of her panties around my shaft, hot pleasure lancing down my spine at the sensation, and then I press my lips to her pussy again, rolling my tongue over her clit as I start to stroke.

It feels so fucking good. I want to fuck her so badly that I can hardly stand it, but I hold myself back. And the silky sensation against my cock, combined with the taste of her on my lips and the obscene thought that I’m going to come in her panties, is enough to have me clinging to the edge of my control within a few strokes.

“Gabriel—” Bella whimpers my name, her breathing fast and hard, her hands pressed flat to the hood of the car. “Oh god—I think—I think you’re going to make me come again?—”

A dozen different replies roll through my head, but I can’t stop for any of them. My hand around my cock and my mouth on her pussy are all I can focus on, and I moan against her as I wrap her panties over the tip of my cock and fuck my fist hard, my muscles winding tight in preparation to fill them with my cum as I suck her clit into my mouth.

Her scream of pleasure is what tips me over the edge. Her arousal drenches my mouth and chin, soaking me in her as she bucks up against my face, and my cock erupts, spurting hot cum into her panties as I thrust into my hand.

I rock forward, gripping the edge of the hood with my free hand as I groan, shuddering as my cock pulses again, and I feel her flutter against my tongue.

God, I can’t wait to come inside of her. The thought makes me throb, but right on the heels of it, it hits me what that will mean.

When Bella finally lets me take her to bed, that will be it. Those are the terms of our agreement—I teach her how to be comfortable enough to have sex, as friends, and then we’re done.

I should be fine with it. I’ve rarely assigned meaning to sex in my life, except with a few women—and ending with my late wife. Bella could never be only a conquest to me, but once I’ve slept with her, that should be enough.

The ache in my chest warns me that it won’t be.

I push the thought out of my head, looking up at Bella. She’s limp and breathless against the hood of the car, looking at me with glazed eyes as a tiny, tired smile twitches at the corner of her lips. “That was incredible,” she whispers.

“More than incredible.” I tuck myself away, giving her a hand to sit up. She looks around, her expression still slightly dazed.

“I forgot we were outside,” she says with a small laugh. “I can’t believe I did that.” She looks at me curiously. “Have you ever done that before?”

It’s not usually the best idea, in my opinion, to share past sexual experiences—especially when one partner is far more experienced than the other. But there’s no guile in the question—it’s not an attempt on Bella’s part to dig into my past. And in this case, at least, I think she’ll like the answer.

“No,” I tell her honestly. “Not like this. And never in—or on—my car,” I add with a laugh. “That’s actually a fantasy I’ve had for a long time,” I add, letting my gaze rest on her face, and Bella smiles softly.

“I like that.” She leans into me, easily, effortlessly. As if it’s no big deal, when not all that long ago, she flinched if I even tried to touch her hand.

She’s doing this so that she can have a normal life. Normal relationships. But I can’t help wondering if it’s really going to be that easy for her with someone else. I should want it to be. I should want her to have everything she wants, whether it makes me burn with jealousy or not to think of her with another man.

But I don’t want anyone else touching her. I don’t ever want anyone else to know what she looks like as she comes, to feel the velvet heat of her gripping their fingers or cock, to know what she tastes like. Right now she’s mine, and only mine, and a part of me wants to drag her into my arms, kiss her, and tell her that I want it to be that way forever.

I’ll only disappoint her.

Bella has enough baggage of her own. She doesn’t need mine. She doesn’t need a widower who isn’t sure if he has the capacity to really love again, who deep down is terrified of loving someone and losing them for a second time. I come with a mountain of baggage all on my own, and I don’t want to make any woman deal with that—but least of all Bella.

She deserves better than me, when it comes to the man who is going to love her forever.

But I can give her something to remember, in the meantime. And I can continue helping her put pieces of herself back together, the way she’s done for me.

I help her off of the car, and she slides in on the passenger’s side, re-knotting her shirt in the front and adjusting her skirt. I start the car, carefully getting us back out to the road and on the way home. Bella is quiet, sitting next to me, and I glance over at her after a few miles.

“Are you alright?” I want to reach over and touch her leg, but I have the sense that it might be better not to, right now.

“I’m fine,” she says softly. “Just tired.”

I start to say something in response, to make sure that she really is, when something catches my eye in the rear-view mirror. It’s a black car that I spied behind us two turns back, and it’s still there. Some gut instinct pricks at me, and I frown before I can stop myself.

“What?” Bella asks, seeing my expression immediately. “Is something wrong?”

“Nothing.” I glance in the mirror again, and she twists around, seeing the car as it turns with us once again.

“Gabriel—”

“I’m sure it’s nothing.” I keep my voice even, watching as we drive. This stretch of road is a long one, and there won’t be a turn for a while.

“I thought I saw someone watching us in the park, the other day.” Bella’s hands twist together in her lap, plucking at the material of her skirt. I can feel her tensing up next to me, hear her fast, nervous breathing.

My attention instantly snaps to her. “What do you mean?” I keep my voice as calm as I can.

Bella takes a shaky breath. “I’d seen a man sitting on a bench when we sat down for a picnic, but I obviously didn’t think anything of it—it’s a public park. I saw he was still there while I was taking photos. It seemed like he was looking at us. But I just thought I was paranoid.”

My pulse spikes at that, dread flooding me. But I keep my expression neutral, not wanting to frighten Bella. I don’t want her to think that anything is wrong, and undo all of her progress. The thought of her descending back into panic and fear, becoming that frightened girl hiding in her clothes and quivering at the slightest inflection of tone makes my heart wrench in my chest. She’s come so far, and I want to keep it that way.

“It’s probably just a coincidence,” I tell her, letting out a slow breath. I look back up at the rear-view mirror as we reach a turn, and the black car keeps going past us, further down the road. “See? I was the one being paranoid.”

Bella manages a small smile, nodding. But I can tell that she’s not entirely convinced.

Neither am I. Later that night, after Bella and the children have all already gone up to bed, I send Gio a text message.

Gabriel: I need you to look into hiring a few more guys. I’d like to have some security on the grounds. Just for a little while. Three men should do it.

Gio: Sure thing, boss.

I slide my phone back into my pocket, reaching for my glass—cognac tonight, instead of wine. After the incident with the car and Bella’s confession about the park, I needed something a little stronger.

Gio will take care of it. A precaution, nothing more. It’s not the first time I’ve temporarily hired a few extra guys, just for added safety while a particularly precarious deal was going on, or underworld men that I had business with on both sides were feuding. Nothing has ever come of it, in the past.

Nothing will this time, either. Or so I tell myself.