Page 87 of The Naughty or Nice Deal

I stand on unsteady legs, hyperaware of Ford discreetly slipping the candy cane into his pocket like some kind of perverted trophy. My panties are drenched, and I can feel the lingering pulses of my orgasm with every step toward the doorway.

“I’ll walk you up,” Ford offers, but I shake my head quickly.

“No, stay and finish the game. I’ll be fine.”

As I head toward the hallway on shaking legs, I catch Hayden’s piercing stare, and I know without a doubt that he’s figured it out too. Even after I escape down the hall, I can feel all three of the men’s gazes following me. My body is humming with residual arousal, and it takes all of my concentration to make sure my legs don’t visibly shake.

38

MAEVE

My legs are still unsteady as I make my way down the hallway, each step sending little aftershocks rippling through my oversensitive body. I can’t believe what just happened at that table—I can’t believe I just came with Liam sitting right across from me, oblivious, while Ford’s skilled fingers and that damn candy cane brought me to the most earth-shattering climax of my life.

I never came that hard when I was with his brother. Not even close.

The wetness between my thighs is a constant, slick reminder of what just occurred, my panties thoroughly soaked and clinging to my still-swollen flesh. I’m grateful for the dim lighting in the hallway, because I’m sure my face is still flushed with arousal, my lips probably still swollen from biting them to stay quiet.

I need to get to a bathroom, need a moment to collect myself and clean up so I look like I haven’t just been thoroughly debauched at the family game table.

But just as I reach for the ornate bathroom door handle, a large, warm hand covers mine, fingers threading through mine with possessive intent.

I look up and find Gabriel standing right there, his eyes burning with so much heat that it takes my breath away. The amber flecks in his irises almost seem to glow in the low light.

“Going somewhere, petit oiseau doux?” His voice is low, his French accent thicker than usual.

Before I can even attempt to answer, he cups my face with both hands and crashes his mouth against mine. The kiss is fierce and almost feral, all tongue and teeth and barely restrained control that makes my knees go weak all over again.

He pushes me backward into the bathroom, his hard body pressing against mine. I hear the door slam shut behind us, followed by the sharp, decisive click of the lock sliding home.

“Do you have any idea,” he growls against my lips, his breath hot and demanding, “how fucking hard it was to sit there and watch Ford touch you? To see you come apart right in front of me and not be able to do anything about it?”

His large hands slide down to grip my hips, fingers digging into the soft fabric of my skirt as he pulls me flush against him. I can feel exactly how hard he is through his expensive dress pants, the rigid length of him pressing insistently against my stomach.

“Gabriel,” I breathe, but he cuts me off with another searing kiss.

“I could smell you.” His voice is a rough rumble against my skin as his lips trail hotly down the column of my neck, making me shiver. “Even from across that table, I could smell how wet you were getting for him. It was driving me fucking insane, sitting there pretending to care about some stupid game when all I wanted was to throw you over my shoulder and claim you myself.”

One of his hands slides down between my legs, cupping me boldly through my skirt. I gasp at the contact, my body still so sensitive from Ford’s thorough attention that even this light touch makes me tremble.

“Still soaked,” he observes, his palm pressing more firmly against me. “Look how wet you are for us. Even after Ford made you come, you’re still dripping.”

He slides his hand under my skirt, fingers finding the edge of my damp panties and slipping beneath the soaked material without hesitation. When his fingertips make direct contact with my bare, swollen flesh, we both groan—him with satisfaction, me with overwhelming sensation.

“Fuck, you’re drenched.” His voice is strained as he explores my pussy with his fingertips. “And so swollen. So sensitive. Ford got you nice and ready for me, didn’t he?”

His fingers tease through my folds with expert precision, collecting my arousal before he slowly pulls his hand away. I watch, transfixed, as he brings his glistening fingers to his mouth and licks them clean.

“Jesus,” he breathes, pupils dilating until his eyes are almost black. “You taste even better than I imagined in all those fantasies. So fucking sweet, like honey and sin.”

Heat floods through me again at his filthy words, my clit throbbing in time with my pulse. There’s something so primal about the way he’s looking at me—like he could devour me whole and still be hungry.

“I need more,” he says, voice dropping to a rough whisper. “I need to taste you properly. Need to make you fall apart on my tongue.”

Before I can respond, his strong hands are on my waist, lifting me effortlessly onto the cool marble counter. The cold surface makes me gasp, but Gabriel’s warm hands on my thighs distract me from the shock almost immediately.

“Spread your legs for me,” he commands, an authoritative edge to his tone.

I do as he says without hesitation, feeling reckless and dirty, and so incredibly turned on by his dominance. He pushes my skirt up around my waist with deliberate slowness, and the way he’s looking at me—like I’m the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen—makes me feel powerful despite my vulnerable position.