Gabriel's Rapture Reynard, Sylvain (literature books to read TXT) 📖

hands as he held her aloft. She danced on the very edge of satisfaction, breathless with anticipation that the next movement would push her over. Building, building, building, building…

“Are—you—okay?” He was breathing hard, his last word leaving his mouth as a cry as the slightest turn of her ankles pressed her sharp heels into his flesh.

Julia threw her head back and let out a few incoherent sounds as she climaxed, intense waves radiating out from where they were joined and speeding along her nerves until her entire body vibrated. Gabriel felt it, of course, and followed soon after; two deep thrusts and he cried her name into the crook of her neck, his body shaking.

“You worried me,” he whispered afterward. He lay on his back in the center of the large, white bed while his sleepy beloved curled into his side, her head resting over the surface of his tattoo.

“Why?”

“You wouldn’t open your eyes. You wouldn’t speak. I was worried I was too rough.”

She moved her fingers along his abdomen to the few hairs that trailed down from his navel, tracing the texture lazily.

“You didn’t hurt me. It felt different this time—more intense. Every time you moved, the most incredible feeling passed through me. I couldn’t open my eyes.”

Gabriel smiled to himself in relief and pressed his lips to her forehead.

“That position is deeper. And don’t forget all our foreplay at the museum. I couldn’t keep my hands off you during dinner.”

“That’s because you knew I’d lost my panties.”

“That’s because I want you. Always.” He offered her a half-smile.

“Every time with you is better than the last,” she whispered.

His expression grew wistful. “But you never say my name.”

“I say your name all the time. It’s a wonder you haven’t come up with a pet name you’d rather I use, such as Gabe, or Dante, or The Professor.”

“That’s not what I meant. I mean you never say my name—when you come.”

She lifted her chin so she could see his face. His expression matched his tone, wistful and momentarily vulnerable. The confident mask had slipped.

“For me, your name is synonymous with orgasm. I’m going to start calling them Emgasms.”

He laughed loudly, a hearty, chest-bouncing chuckle that required Julia to sit up. She joined him in his laughter, grateful that his moment of melancholy had passed.

“You have quite the sense of humor, Miss Mitchell.” He tilted her chin upwards so he could worship her lips once more before relaxing into the pillows and drifting off to sleep.

Julia stayed awake a little longer as she contemplated the anxious, insecure little boy who revealed himself at rare and unexpected moments.

The following morning Gabriel treated Julia to her preferred breakfast at Café Perseo, a fine gelateria in the Piazza Signoria. They sat inside because normal December temperatures had returned and it was rainy and cool.

One could sit by the square all day, every day, and watch the world walk by. There were old buildings on the perimeter—the Uffizi was around the corner. There was a tremendously impressive fountain and beautiful statues, including a copy of Michelangelo’s David and a statue of Perseus holding the dismembered head of Medusa in front of a lovely loggia.

Julia avoided looking at Perseus as she ate her gelato. Gabriel avoided looking at the legions of beautiful Florentine women in order to watch his beloved. Hungrily.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like a taste? Raspberry and lemon are great together.” She held out a spoon where the two flavors commingled.

“Oh I want a taste. But not of that.” His eyes glinted. “I prefer something a trifle more exotic.” He nudged his espresso aside so he could take her hand in his. “Thank you for last night and this morning.”

“I think I’m the one who should be thanking you, Professor.” She squeezed his hand and busied herself with her breakfast, such as it was.

“I’m surprised there isn’t an outline of my body vaporized onto the wall of our room.” She giggled, holding out a small spoonful of the frozen treat.

He allowed her to feed him, and when his tongue darted out to lick his lips, she found herself light-headed. A bevy of images from earlier that morning flashed through her mind. And one remained.

O gods of sex-god boyfriends who enjoy pleasuring their lovers, thank you for this morning.

She swallowed hard. “You know, that was my first time.”

“It won’t be your last. I promise.” Gabriel licked his lips provocatively, eager to make her squirm.

She leaned over to give him a peck on the cheek. But he was having none of that. He snaked a hand to the back of her neck and pulled her closer.

Her mouth was sweet with gelato and the unique taste that was Julia. He groaned when he released her, wishing he could take her back to the hotel for a repeat of last night’s performance, or perhaps to the museum…

“Can I ask you something?” She busied herself with her bowl so she didn’t have to meet his gaze.

“Of course.”

“Why did you say that I was your fiancée?”

“Fidanzata has multiple meanings.”

“The primary meaning is fiancée.”

“Ragazza doesn’t express the depth of my attachment.” Gabriel wiggled his toes in his new, tight shoes. His mouth twitched as he contemplated what to say next, if he should say anything at all. He elected to remain silent, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

Julia noticed what she perceived to be his physical discomfort. “I’m sorry about my heels.”

“What’s that?”

“I saw the marks on your backside when you were getting dressed this morning. I didn’t mean to injure you.”

He grinned wickedly. “Occupational hazard for those obsessed with high-heeled shoes. I wear my love scars with pride.”

“I’ll be more careful next time.”

“No, you damn well won’t.”

Julia’s eyes grew wide at the sudden flash of passion in his eyes.

He captured her lips with his before whispering in her ear, “I’m going to buy you a pair of boots with even higher heels, then I’m going to see what you can do with them.”

As they strolled across the Ponte Vecchio under a