Rock Hard (Rock Kiss #2)(89)

No, no, no.

Her body wouldn’t obey her mind, panic a trapped bird inside her skull.

“I think,” Gabriel said, his voice rough, “this’ll work better.”

Charlotte was still trying to process the words when he shifted them both. He was still behind her, but she now faced the other side of the room and the full-length, freestanding mirror that stood beside the vanity. In that mirror was an image of a blond woman who had a big male hand at her throat, another on her breast; those hands with their blunt tips and square nails were hands she knew, the eyes that held hers a familiar steel gray.

“Gabriel,” she said on a rush of air.

“I like my name on your lips.” He moved his hand in a petting motion but didn’t take it off her throat. With his other one, he continued to mold and shape her breast, tugging at the nipple that pushed at her dress through the lace of her bra. “My pretty Charlotte,” he said, each word spaced out with a kiss on her jaw, her cheek, her throat. “You have no idea the ways in which I want to f*ck you.”

She jerked at the harsh word, but her thighs clenched at the same time.

“I used to dream about bending you over my desk, shoving up those ugly skirts you used to wear, pulling down your panties, and using my hand to push you to orgasm before I drove my cock into you.”

All she could hear was his voice, all she could feel was him, the images he painted flashing on her retinas. “Th…that’s—”

“Inappropriate, I know.” More kisses. “But a man can be inappropriate in his mind, especially when his balls are turning blue.” Another kiss, this one on her nape.

It wasn’t, she realized, the first one. He’d distracted her with his words, seduced her with his mouth, was teaching her body that a touch from him in that place wouldn’t mean pain and humiliation. “Gabriel.” She moved restlessly. “Let me take off my dress.”

He tightened his grip on her throat the slightest fraction. “No.”

Her breath sped up, her heart rate rocketing as her chest squeezed in panic.

“Shh.” Easing his grip, he kept kissing her. “We’re just playing, Charlotte.”

Playing.

It was such an unthreatening word that it cut through the grip of fear. “Playing,” she whispered.

“Yes.” He reached across to torment her neglected breast. “Pull up your dress.”

Mouth dry, she did as he asked, to reveal panties of black lace. She’d bought three different lingerie sets, all in his favorite shade on her flesh.

He traced the waistband of her panties with a single finger, brushing over the tiny pink rosette in the center. “Is this for me?” A pleased sound against her ear. At her nod, he said, “Such good behavior deserves a reward, don’t you think?”

“Yes.”

Chuckling, he used his hand on her throat to urge her to bend her head back toward him. The instant she did, he kissed her. The position left her intensely vulnerable and yet feeling intensely protected. Breaking the kiss after a long, deep taste, Gabriel allowed her to straighten. “Keep holding up your dress.”

Charlotte’s fingers tightened on the fabric as he slid his free hand into her panties. A whimper escaped her; that got her kissed once more in that painfully vulnerable position as he touched her with possessive confidence, tugging at her clit, stroking through her folds, thrusting a finger, then two, into her body.

“Come for me, Ms. Baird.”

The low, deep, rough order sent an electric surge through her body. Gasping, she tried to fight the rising edge of need, but it was coming too fast, too hard, Gabriel’s sinful fingers playing her body like a favored instrument. Pleasure arched her spine hard enough to snap, and through it all, Gabriel kept his hand on her throat, his grip gentle but firm.

She shuddered into boneless limpness afterward, held upright by his body and by the hand he’d kept between her thighs. Cupping her damp heat, he kissed her nape again, licking over the spot before saying, “On the bed.” When he removed his hands from her, she would’ve stumbled to the bed, but he took her hips and nudged her out the door.

“My bed. That’s where you belong.”

She thought maybe she should protest his high-handedness, but since she wanted to be in Gabriel’s bed anyway, that particular idea stood no chance of success. Her knees were so weak she didn’t know how she made it to the master bedroom. Climbing onto the sprawling bed, she would’ve turned over onto her back but he said, “Stay there.”

Her stomach knotted, the pleasure of a few moments ago buried under increasing strain. “I don’t know if I can take your weight,” she said, his earlier statement stark in her mind: she would not hurt Gabriel by freaking out. Better to warn him in advance.

“Why are you always trying to rush?” The bed dipped. “That’s graduate level, and we’re at the freshmen stage.” A tug on her dress told her he was pulling down the zipper. “Now you can turn.”

When she did, he slid her dress off her shoulders and down her body to strip it off. Coming down beside her, he braced himself on one arm and stroked his hand from her chest down to the tops of her thighs. His skin was a little rough, his palm big enough to easily span her breastbone. It felt good, but…

Gripping his wrist, she brought his hand to her throat. “There too.”