Robin Schone Gabriel's Woman (best pdf ebook reader for android .txt) 📖

back down the

slippery lips of her sex.

He gently probed.

Her muscles contracted.

Victoria bit her lip. “What do you see when you orgasm?”

“Darkness,” Gabriel gritted.

Darkness. Death.

“What do you see now?” she hurriedly asked.

“I see you, Victoria, your lips red and swollen and glistening. I see my finger, swirling in your desire.

Your portail is a darker red. I see my finger sinking into your portail.. .”

Oh...

It burned.

Victoria jackknifed upward, legs snapping together.

His hand was buried between her thighs.

Victoria jerked her gaze away from the white cuff and shirtsleeve that stuck up above a thatch of dark

pubic hair.

Silver eyes were waiting for hers.

And you won’t touch me... regardless of the pain or pleasure that I bring you, rang inside her ears.

I won’t touch you, she had promised.

Victoria fought the bed to find a grip, arms stiffly holding up her weight.

His hand was buried between her thighs. It felt as if it penetrated her with a burning poker.

Slowly, slowly Victoria unclenched her muscles and accepted his finger.

Relief flickered inside Gabriel’s eyes. Or perhaps it was the overhead light that flickered. Victoria was

not familiar enough with either Gabriel or electric light to judge.

“Open your legs for me,” Gabriel murmured, “and I’ll tell you what I see.”

He had said he had penetrated a woman with his entire hand. Victoria did not know if she could take

another finger.

She licked her lips. “What is ... portail?”

Gabriel’s finger continued to burn and throb. “Portal. It is a French term for a woman’s vagina.”

Victoria’s body had a will of its own. It bore down, taking more of his finger.

Gabriel’s face hardened.

In desire? Disgust?

“Do you always refer to a woman’s anatomy in French?”

“No.”

“What word do you use?”

“Cunt.”

An English street term.

“But you don’t use that term now.”

“Non.” There was nothing soft about the French negative.

Her vagina clenched and unclenched about his finger, as if milking it.

She struggled to understand. “Why?”

For a second Victoria did not think Gabriel was going to answer her. “I spoke French before I spoke

English.”

Before he became a whore.

Before the man had taken away the control he had valued so much.

Before Gabriel’s need had been turned against him.

Victoria opened her legs.

Dark eyelashes shielded his eyes.

Victoria followed his gaze. All she could see was her dark pubic hair and the white cuff marking the

hand that was between her thighs.

“I see . .. my finger appearing ... It’s wet and slippery .. .”

Victoria felt Gabriel’s finger easing out of her... slowly. ... In her mind’s eye, she visualized it... long,

pale, slippery wet...

Contrarily, her body clenched to keep it inside her.

“Calme-toi,” he murmured huskily.

Relax.

“I remember the first time I saw a woman like this.”

Gabriel’s gaze was intent on Victoria.

“How old were you?”

“I was thirteen.”

The same age he had been when the madame had sold his services.

Gabriel’s finger reversed its journey, slowly ... slowly . . . sinking inside her until it filled her.

“What did you think, when you saw her. .. like this?” Victoria managed.

“I thought that if a man had a soul, it existed inside a woman.”

Victoria’s chest constricted; then her vagina constricted.

One finger became two.

Stretching her. Opening her.

She sharply inhaled. “Gabriel...”

His dark lashes slowly lifted. “I like the way you say my name.”

Slowly his two fingers slid out of her while he watched her face for signs of pain .. . pleasure.

“How is that?” she asked, voice catching.

“As if you believe I have a soul.”

He curved his fingers, as if they were a hook, and gently raked the inner wall of her vagina. “Come for

me, Victoria. You said you’d share your pleasure with me. Share it.”

He held her gaze, hooked fingers sliding, twisting, searching . . . Electricity shot through her body.

It felt as if she had a second clitoris inside her vagina, or as if her clitoris were accessible from within.

Gabriel stroked. Fingers hooked. Holding her gaze.

Fire raced through Victoria’s veins, shimmied down her spine.

There was no fire inside his eyes, just calculated intent.

She wanted more than his expertise.

“I can’t,” she choked.

A smile flitted across his face. “You can. You will.. . You are.”

Victoria’s body bore down. She exploded. Voice crying out.

When her gaze focused, Gabriel waited for her. “What did you see?”

“Light,” she panted.

Shaking. Inside. Outside.

Two fingers became three.

Her body was wide open; she could not squeeze him out. Victoria’s orgasm fluttered around him— three

fingers.

“I feel it,” she gasped. “I feel myself... fluttering around your fingers ...”

“Yes.” A curious expression crossed his face. “I feel it.”

Victoria couldn’t draw in enough oxygen. “I said I wouldn’t touch you.”

His gaze sharpened. “Yes.”

“But I didn’t say I wouldn’t tell you what I want.”

“What do you want, Victoria?” Gabriel asked, sudden remoteness coming into his eyes.

How many had told him what they wanted . .. and never asked him what he wanted?

“I want you to taste me. I want you to remember my taste.”

Not a rape of the senses . ..

“And then I want you to do what you want. Anything. Everything.”

His dark lashes blocked her gaze.

She could feel moisture oozing out from her vagina. Did he see it?

Perhaps he did not like the taste of sex ...

Gabriel sank down between her thighs. Three fingers sliding ... out... in ... out... in. Deep. Hard.

Riding out one orgasm. Creating the need for another.

Silvery-blond hair merged with dark pubic hair.

When Gabriel’s breath whispered across her vulva, Victoria thought she would die. When Gabriel’s lips

closed around her, she knew she would die.

When Gabriel’s tongue touched the hard tip of her clitoris, Victoria did die.

There is always pain in pleasure, Gabriel had said.

Darkness glittered inside the light, but still, only, light.

Victoria opened her eyes. And stared up at white enamel.

She did not