The Billionaires’ Prize (The Heiress Merger #2)

8. Gabe/Katherine

8

GABE/KATHERINE

GABE

Gabe

There’s a nine-hundred-ton elephant in the room. We should talk about that. The reasonable, responsible adult in me says yes. But the man who wants Katherine in a bubble, without the world interfering, says hell no. There’s no use dragging up old feelings. And right now, in this universe, I’m happy. Content. Satisfied. Selfishly, I don’t want anything to change.

But if she’s bringing it up, she probably wants to talk, right?

So I nod. “Later.”

She reaches for me, her expression softening. “Later.”

Katherine

I watch the indecision in Gabe’s eyes, his thoughts warring. He doesn’t want to talk about anything. I don’t blame him. I definitely don’t blame him for not wanting to think about his past or my family in the middle of sex.

He leans into my touch, then pulls his fingers from my pussy, trailing them up my middle. Why is that so hot?

“You’ve come in my lap,” he says. “And on my tongue.”

He rubs the tips of his fingers over my lips, and I breathe in the heady scent of my arousal clinging to his skin. I open my mouth and suck them inside, licking them clean.

Gabe groans, and my pussy clenches.

This man is gonna be the end of me. It’s like I can see every naughty thought in his head. He’s far more experienced than I am, and I’m eager to learn whatever he wants to teach me. In fact, my skin is on fire for it. Every wicked word, every fevered touch, I want more. I want all of it.

“I think it’s time you come on my cock.”

I hum my agreement around his fingers, nodding. The confidence of this man. Gracious.

His fingers pop free, and he hooks his hands beneath my knees, tugging me toward him. I shiver as his fingertips glide up and down my legs, awakening my senses on a different level. It’s like he’s savoring every inch of me.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to get my hands on these stems.” His voice is rough and adorable. Clearly, he’s been a little frustrated. Pent up?

With him kneeling, my ass is practically in his lap. His cock points at me hard and proud, as if to say, ‘I want you, and I’m going to have you.’ Yes, please.

I smirk, and a giggle bubbles up my throat.

“Are you ticklish?” he asks, lifting my right leg until my calf is propped against his shoulder. He kisses the inside of my knee, and my clit tingles.

Who knew those two areas were connected?

“A little bit,” I admit.

He lifts my other leg and kisses that knee, too. “I’ll have to find all your spots. Later.”

“I like the way you think.”

His smirk makes my ovaries explode. No lie.

“Then you’re going to love what I’m thinking now.” He pulls me tighter to his lap.

I feel like I’m upside down, but I don’t care. He’s got a hold of me. I won’t fall.

He reaches between us, takes hold of his shaft, and taps the head of his cock against my slit. I grip his thighs, moaning as he hits my clit just right.

“Like that?”

“Mmhmm.”

He’s creative, I’ll give him that. There’s an element of the forbidden as well as fun, and he makes me want to try new things. It’s dangerous, too. These feelings I have for him. Knowing who he is and what it could cost me.

But I’m only going to think of the here and now. Everything else will be sorted later.

I flex my nails into his thighs, and he turns his head, gently biting my leg.

“Ready for more, Princess?” He presses between my pussy lips, coating the head of his cock as I moan my agreement.

He’s hot and hard, and the first inch stretches my tender tissue.

Gabe must feel me take a deep breath because he immediately holds still. I stare into his brilliant blue eyes, sure I’m looking at a unicorn. Men aren’t perceptive on their own. At least not the men that I’ve known.

They have to ask lots of questions and be directed like you’re a stage manager for Broadway.

But not Gabe.

No.

He’s watching.

Feeling.

Listening.

And it’s freaking amazing.

Overwhelming even to be on the other side of all that focus.

That’s what skyrocketed him to the top of the world stage. I’d bet my favorite Louboutins.

“Good?”

And he checks in with me?

Okay, I’ve died. Definitely dead. Definitely in heaven. And he’s an angel.

I nod, and he eases forward a little more. And a little more. All the while, his hands glide over my legs, making me so glad I opted for laser hair removal. Best idea ever.

He slides home, hitting a spot inside me that makes my back arch. I cup my breasts, and he groans.

No. Maybe this is the best idea ever.

When he braces his arms over the front of my legs, holding me aloft, and then pulls his hips back, I see the brilliance behind this position.

I’m at his mercy.

He’s in control and control me he does. All I can do is cling to the couch and hang on as he pistons in and out of me. It’s like every nerve, every cell focuses on the sensations he brings as he fills me. I’m bereft every time he pulls his hips back.

Soon, I’m panting with need, consumed by the desire to come. My body coils tight, but I don’t tip over. I just hang there, on the side of the mountain.

“You’re so fucking hot, Princess.”

I used to hate that nickname, but right now, it feels special. The way it rolls off his tongue is an actual endearment. Like he can’t believe his luck.

I brace a hand above my head, needing leverage. Needing release. But he’s still in complete control.

He chuckles, obviously reading my mind.

“Need something?”

“Yes,” I whine, pride gone. It dissolved somewhere along with my self-preservation. The only thing that matters now is shattering.

“Not yet. I’m enjoying this too much.” His thrusts turn shallow and slow.

I cover my face with my hands, letting out a little scream of frustration.

He stops.

I drop my hands.

“What did I say?”

I rack my lust-saturated brain.

He likes my ass. My legs. My lips.

“Let me hear you, Princess. Every.” He pushes deep, and I gasp. “Little.” Pulls out. “Sound.”

He slides a hand down my leg, across my belly, pausing between my breasts. Flames lick every inch of skin he touches. He’s that warm, and I’m that turned on. It’s not going to take much to get me off. I love the feel of his hand splayed over my skin, like he’s memorizing the feel of me beneath his palm.

When he coasts his fingertips down my torso, making a quick detour around my belly button, and zeroes in on my clit, I know I’m a goner.

A few gentle flicks, and I’m soaring up the mountain again, skin going tight, muscles aching for release.

He finds a new rhythm. Cock and fingers work in brilliant synchronicity, and I can’t do anything but lie here and enjoy it. Moan on repeat.

He’s playing me like an instrument where he’s the musician, composer, and conductor all in one.

Stepping on the gas. Easing off. Driving me wild. Letting my orgasm abate. Then he’s back at it, stroking so deep.

“Gabe!”

“Yes, Princess?”

Who knew tech tycoons had so much stamina?

“I need—oh!”

He bottoms out, holding there, stretching my pussy.

“What does this pretty little cunt need?”

His dirty words make me melt around his dick.

“Oh, you like that, don’t you? Are you in your slut era, Princess?”

My what?

His hips pull back, almost all the way out, and then he shuttles inside, lighting up my nerve endings. My legs are on fire as I reach for his thighs again.

“I’ll be in whatever—” My voice breaks. “—era lets me—come.” Gosh, I sound breathless. A fine sheen of sweat covers my skin.

I use what little energy I have left to squeeze his dick with my inner muscles. His head drops back, and he groans again. Such a sexy sound. I really do love making this man want me. He’s so aloof. So smart with his head in the clouds and the world at his feet.

It’s nice to feel on the same page. Even if it is the dirtiest book ever written.

“Such a good girl.” He kisses my leg again, just a quick peck, which is so unlike him. Or the him I thought I knew.

And then he lets me have it. Pounding so freaking deep.

And it’s all over. I’m done for. The combination of his hips fucking me like he means to break the sofa and his talented hands clutching my thighs sends me off.

I’m so turned on I shatter. Blow apart. And let out a cry of pleasure that echoes off the walls.

Gabe leans forward, bringing my knees to my chest, his eyes blazing into mine. His jaw is tight and I reach up, cupping his cheek. Through the glow of my orgasm, I squeeze him again, my inner muscles ringing him, begging for something I didn’t even know I needed.

He bites out a curse, hips halting against mine.

“Want my cum, Princess?” he grinds out.

I nod. But I can’t put words together in a coherent sentence.

“Is that what you want?”

Desire sizzles through me, hot and seductive. It’s like he knows me better than I know myself. But I’ll worry about that later. For now, I nod.

“God. I knew it. Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll give you every drop.”

The moan that rumbles from his chest is transcendent. Rich and throaty and needy. His hips go to town, driving that talented cock into my orgasm-slick pussy.

Miraculously, I feel my body tightening again. Another orgasm shimmers on the horizon, and then I’m falling. My muscles tighten and bliss pours through me, filling every corner.

Gabe grunts above me, his movements stalling as he spills inside me. One pump. A second. Slow and sure.

I reach for him, needing to be close. Needing to wring every drop of pleasure. It’s like I’m floating on a cloud, and everything has gone blissfully numb.

He collapses at my side, between me and the back of the couch. “Amazing,” he mumbles.

I snuggle into the circle of his arms and sigh, thoroughly sated.

“Can’t wait to do that again.”

“Me too,” I whisper.

He presses a kiss into my hair and laces his fingers with mine. This is the perfect lazy Sunday afternoon. I could get used to it. Except there’s something missing. Someone. Or rather, two someones?

The haze of my orgasm blots out the errant thoughts. “Thought you were going to your place,” I murmur.

I squeeze his fingers and tangle my legs with his. He reaches over our heads and grabs the blanket, draping it over us, then reaches for my hand again.

“Doesn’t seem so important right now.”

He sounds sleepy, and I wish I could see his face.

Who would have thought Gabriel Rothburn was a snuggler? I sure didn’t, but I’ll happily fall asleep in his arms.