Harry's hands clamped tighter around Gabrielle's waist as their kiss turned wild, raw and needy in a way that neither of them could—or even wanted to—rein in. Her lips were plump, pressing hard against his, and parting with an intensity that hit him like a freight train.
She tasted like the wine they'd had earlier—sweet, sharp, and dizzying—and it mingled with that vanilla-jasmine perfume of hers, dragging him deeper into the haze. Her fingers twisted in his hair, yanking just enough to rip a low, gritty groan from his throat, the sound swallowed immediately by her wanton mouth.
Gabrielle squirmed in his lap, her thighs squeezing his hips as she sank down fully against him. The chair groaned under them, but they couldn't care less. Her body was all heat and soft curves, pressing so close the flimsy dress she had on barely hid how she melted into him.
Harry's hands roamed up from her waist, sliding along the curve of her spine through the thin fabric, feeling her muscles twitch as she arched into him like she couldn't get enough. She broke the kiss for a second, gasping for air, her lips hovering over his—swollen, wet, and begging to be claimed again.
"You're not stopping me," she purred, her voice a sultry taunt, that French accent slipping out and kicking his pulse into overdrive.
"Didn't even cross my mind," he fired back, his voice rough and jagged, like he'd been shouting all night. His hands moved fast—one shot up to grip the back of her neck, dragging her back down to him. Their mouths slammed together again, fiercer now, all messy tongues and nipping teeth, nothing but pure desperation fueling it. She bit his bottom lip, a sharp and playful glint in her eyes, and he fired back by sucking hers into his mouth, pulling a soft, needy whimper from her.
Her hands weren't messing around either. They slid from his hair, trailing over his neck, then raking across his bare shoulders, her nails scraping just enough to sting. His shirt still hung half-off, stuck around his elbows from earlier, and she took it as a dare.
With a quick yank, she tore it free, letting it crumple to the floor in a heap. Her fingers splayed wide over his chest, digging into the hard ridges of his muscles, tracing the faded scars she'd mapped out before. But this time, there was no holding back.
She dragged her nails down his torso, a slow and wicked smirk playing on her lips, leaving hot, red streaks behind. Harry sucked in a sharp breath, his abs flexing under her touch.
"Merlin's bloody beard, Gabrielle," he muttered against her lips, half-laughing, half-growling. She smirked into the kiss, clearly loving how she had him unraveling, and rocked her hips in his lap—just enough to make damn sure he realized how much he wanted her.
The friction was torture, sweet and unbearable, and his hands flew to her thighs, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh through her dress, gripping like he'd lose his mind if he let go.
She pulled back again, just enough to lock eyes with him. Her gaze was dark, her pupils blown out with lust, and her cheeks flushed a soft, filthy pink that made her look like trouble wrapped in a promise.
"You're so into this, huh?" she teased, her voice dripping with heat, playful but thick with want. Before he could toss a comeback, she leaned in again—not for his mouth this time, but to kiss the edge of his jaw, then that spot under his ear where his pulse hammered. Her lips were hot and slick, every brush of them making his breath hitch like he'd been sucker-punched.
Harry tilted his head back, giving her all the room she wanted, his hands slipping higher up her thighs, shoving the hem of her dress up as he went. The fabric bunched under his palms, peeling back to show off smooth, pale skin that practically shimmered in the low light. She was radiating heat, and it was frying his brain.
"You're gonna be the death of me," he rasped, his voice low and wrecked, as her teeth grazed his neck, sending a shiver racing through him.
"Not yet, I won't," she whispered against his skin, her breath hot and ticklish.
Her hands slid lower, skimming over his stomach, her fingers dipping just under the waistband of his trousers before sliding back up. It was a tease, plain and simple, and she knew she had him hooked. He let out a frustrated growl, snatching her wrists and pinning them to his chest for a second, feeling her pulse thrum under his grip as she gazed deep into his emerald orbs.
"Two can play dirty," he said, flashing a smirk up at her. He let her wrists go and slid his hands fully under her dress, pushing it up past her hips. Underneath? Barely anything—just a wisp of lace that didn't even deserve to be called panties. The sight hit him like a freight train, his throat going dry as he stared. He hooked his fingers into the waistband, but instead of yanking them down, he let his thumbs glide over her skin, slow and teasing, watching her squirm under the lightest touch.
Her breath hitched, a little gasp slipping out as she shifted against him, her hips rocking like she couldn't help it. That dress was a goner now, bunched up around her waist, leaving her thighs bare and trembling under his hands. He could feel the heat pouring off her wanton pussy, he could smell that vanilla-jasmine mix clinging to her skin, and it was messing with his head in the best way.
She leaned in close again, her lips brushing his ear this time, her voice a low, husky whisper. "You're too good at this," she said, nipping his earlobe just hard enough to make him twitch.
"Good?" he shot back, his voice rough and raspy. "I'm just getting started."
His hands tightened on her hips, pulling her down harder against him. He ground her pussy against his cock, letting her feel every inch of what she was doing to him. She moaned softly, the sound vibrating through him, and it took everything he had not to flip her over right there on the creaky chair. Instead, he slid one hand up her back again, his fingers tangling in her hair, tugging her head back just enough to expose her throat. He kissed her there, open-mouthed and sloppy, tasting the salt of her skin as she shivered against him.
Gabrielle's hands were back at it, clawing at his shoulders, then sliding down to grip his biceps like she needed something to hold onto. Her nails dug in, sharp little pricks that only stoked the fire in his gut. She rocked her hips again, rolling her pussy over his cock slower this time, dragging it out, and he swore under his breath, the pressure building to a point he could barely stand.
His hands dropped back to her thighs, squeezing hard, then slid inward, brushing against that lace again. He didn't pull it off—not yet—just let his fingers linger, teasing her right back, feeling her tense and melt all at once.
She was panting now, her chest rising and falling fast, and when she looked at him again, her eyes were pure heat, daring him to push it further.
"You're a bastard," she breathed, half-laughing, but the way her voice cracked gave her away. She wanted more, and he was damn well going to give it to her—just not too fast. He grinned, wicked and unapologetic, and let his thumbs skim over her skin again, brushing closer to her wetness, watching her unravel bit by bit.
Gabrielle's breath caught in her throat, her thighs quivering against him like she was already on the edge of losing it.
"Harry…" she whispered, his name slipping out like a needy little whimper, the first sign her cool, cocky vibe was cracking. He loved that—loved knowing he could strip her down to raw want, just like she was doing to him. He leaned in close, his lips brushing her collarbone, then dipping lower, kissing along the top of her dress.
Her dress was this tight, sleeveless number that hugged her curves, but right now, it was just pissing him off, blocking what he wanted. He yanked at the side zipper, and she threw her arms up, letting him rip it off her in one quick move.
The dress hit the floor with a soft thump, and there she was—clad in nothing but skimpy lace panties and a bra so sheer it was basically a tease.
"You planned this from the start, didn't you?" He asked, his voice gruff with want.
Gabrielle merely grinned unabashedly.
Harry's hands were on her in a heartbeat, sliding up her sides, feeling her ribs shift with every fast, shaky breath. She was fucking stunning—long, lean lines mixed with soft, plush spots that begged to be touched, her skin hot under his greedy palms. He dragged her closer, his mouth finding the swell of her tits just above the bra, and she arched into him, her fingers diving back into his hair, pulling hard enough to sting in the best way.
"Get these off," she growled, her voice all husky and demanding, yanking at his trousers. He wasn't about to argue. Shifting under her, he popped the button and zipper with one hand while she shoved the fabric down his hips, all eager and messy. They got stuck around his knees, and he kicked them off in a rush, leaving him in just his boxers. The hard-on tenting the fabric was obvious as hell, and Gabrielle's eyes dropped to it, a dirty little grin spreading across her face.
"Well, damn," she purred, her hand sliding down his chest, over the tight muscles of his stomach, and stopping right above the waistband. Her fingers teased there, light and maddening, and Harry's hips jolted up without his say-so. "Someone's ready to play."
"Keep teasing, and you'll find out how ready," he fired back, but his voice was rough, cracking under the heat she was stoking. She laughed, this low, sexy sound that hit him like a shot of lust straight to the veins. Then she stopped messing around. Her hand slipped lower, cupping his manhood through the boxers, and he groaned, loud and raw, the pressure so good it made his head spin—firm, but nowhere near enough to satisfy. She watched him, soaking up every twitch, every noise he couldn't hold back, loving the power she had over him.
"Gabrielle," he rasped, half a warning, half him begging her to keep going, and she took the hint—or maybe she just wanted to crank it up a notch. She hooked her fingers into his boxers and tugged them down, letting his cock spring free. The air was cool for a split second before her hand wrapped around him, warm and confident, and he cursed under his breath, his head dropping back against the chair as heat roared through him.
She started slow, her grip tight and her strokes lazy, like she was savoring every inch of him. Her thumb swiped over the tip, spreading the slickness there, and Harry's hands clamped onto her plump rear, his fingers digging in hard enough to bruise.
"Fuck," he grunted, and she let out this smug little hum, leaning in to kiss his neck again as her hand picked up the pace, stroking him furiously and driving him wild.
"You're still so wound up," she murmured against his skin, her voice thick with fake worry that only made him hotter. "Let me take care of that."
Before he could even catch his breath, she slid off his lap and dropped to her knees between his legs. Harry's eyes flew open, locking onto hers, and holy shit—the sight of her down there, hair all tousled, lips wet and parted, staring up at him with those dark, starving eyes—nearly made him lose it right then and there.
She didn't look away as she leaned in, her breath scorching against him before her lips wrapped around the head of his cock. Harry's head slammed back, a deep, filthy groan tearing out of him as she took him deeper with an instinctual expertise that only a veela could boast of, her tongue flicking and swirling in ways that turned his brain to mush. Her hand stayed busy at the base, pumping him with a steady grip, while her mouth set a rhythm—slow at first, then faster, wet and sloppy and so damn good he couldn't think straight. He couldn't keep quiet—grunts, swears, her name all mashed together in a desperate mess—and his hand found her hair, his fingers tangling in the soft strands, not forcing her, just hanging on for dear life.
"Gabrielle—fuck, you're—" He couldn't string the words together, too lost in the slick heat of her mouth and the way she moaned around him like she was getting off on it too. Her free hand slid up his thigh, her nails biting into his skin, and the mix of it all—pain, pleasure, her—had him racing toward the edge way too fast.
"I'm gonna—" he choked out, his voice a total wreck, but she didn't pull off. She just sucked him deeper, her eyes flicking up to pin him with that wicked stare, and that was game over.
Harry came hard, his hips jerking as a guttural groan ripped out of him, and she stayed right there, gulping down every bit of his release as she kept working him through every pulse until he was a panting, boneless mess.
She eased back slowly, licking her lips clean with that cocky little smirk of hers as she rocked back on her heels.
"Feeling better?" she teased, her voice all rough and playful, and Harry let out a shaky laugh, still reeling.
"You're a fucking menace," he said, reaching for her. He hauled her back into his lap, crashing his mouth against hers, tasting himself on her tongue and loving how filthy it felt. His hands roamed her again, sliding over her back, popping her bra clasp with a quick twist of his fingers. It fell away, and he pulled back to drink her in—those perfect, soft tits, large enough to fit snugly in his palms, with pebbled, puffy nipples that were already peaked and begging for his mouth.
"My turn," he growled, his voice low and full of promise.
He flipped their positions, lifting her like she weighed nothing and plopping her on the edge of the chair where he'd just been. She let out this surprised giggle that melted into a gasp as he dropped to his knees between her legs, mirroring her move from before.
"Ready?" He smirked, and didn't bother to wait for a response.
His hands ran up her thighs, spreading them wide, and he tugged at the lace still clinging to her hips. It came off in one smooth yank, leaving her bare, and he just stared for a second—her pussy all flushed and glowing, dripping wet with her arousal, and every inch of her screaming for him to dive in. Her breaths were coming hard and fast as he gazed at her pulsing womanhood, her supple tits rising and falling hotly as she stared at his face.
Harry leaned in, pressing his lips to the inside of her thigh, taking his sweet time, letting his stubble drag rough and slow against her soft skin. She shivered hard, one hand clamping onto the armrest like it was her lifeline, the other diving back into his messy hair, tugging with a needy pull.
"Harry…" she breathed, his name spilling out all shaky and raw, and he grinned against her, loving how she was already unraveling for him. He kissed higher, inching closer, until his mouth grazed her core, and she jolted like she'd been shocked, a little moan slipping free that echoed hotly in the suite.
He didn't mess around too long—not after the way she'd just blown his mind. His tongue flicked out, tasting her, and fuck, she was sweet and hot, so slick it made his head spin with want. He licked her slow at first, teasing her open, figuring out what made her gasp and what had her hips bucking up off the chair, chasing his mouth. Her fingers tightened in his hair, pulling with a sharp sting that only fired him up more, and he dove in deeper, sucking her clit just hard enough to make her squirm.
"Oh—Harry, fuck, yes," she whimpered, her voice cracking like she was losing it, and he went all in, one hand gripping her hip to keep her pinned as she started wriggling under him. His other hand got in on the action, his fingers teasing her entrance, circling there for a hot second before sliding inside, curling up to hit that spot that made her cry out—loud, wild, and totally unfiltered. The sound shot straight through him, stoking the heat still simmering in his veins from her earlier work.
He worked her like he was on a mission, his mouth and fingers moving together, relentless, chasing every filthy moan and tremble she gave up. Her thighs shook hard around his head, her breaths coming in short, messy bursts, and he could feel her tightening up, her whole body winding tight under his touch.
"Don't you dare stop," she begged, her voice high and dripping with desperation, and no way in hell was he stopping—not when she was falling apart like this, all hot and needy just for him.
When she came, it hit her like a damn freight train, a sharp, sexy cry tearing out as her hips jerked against his face. He didn't back off, letting her ride the whole thing out, his tongue still working her until she was a trembling, boneless heap slumped back in the chair, her tits heaving. He kissed his way up her stomach, over the soft swell of her tits, until he hit her mouth again, and she dragged him into a wet, breathless kiss, tasting herself on his lips just as he had earlier and moaning into it like she couldn't get enough.
They stayed tangled up like that for a bit, panting hard, their naked bodies pressed flush, and the air thick with sweat and that faint, buzzing hum of her veela magic still hanging around, making his skin tingle.
"You're… fucking insane," she finally said, a soft laugh bubbling out, and he grinned, brushing a sweaty strand of hair off her flushed face.
"Worth every second," he shot back as he leaned forward again, and they both knew this was just the warm-up.
Gabrielle's lips met his eagerly, her taste still mixing with his as they kissed, slow and sloppy, their breaths syncing up in the hazy afterglow. She was still perched on the chair, her thighs spread wide around his hips, and her large, bare tits mashed against his, all warm and slick with sweat. The heat between them wasn't dying down—if anything, it was cranking up again, a slow burn turning into a full-on blaze. Her hands roamed his shoulders, nails digging in with a teasing scrape, and when she pulled back, her eyes were dark and wild, like she was ready to eat him alive.
"Harry," she purred, her voice low and thick. She rocked her hips against his, just a little grind that brushed her gushing pussy right up against his throbbing manhood, and he groaned deep in his throat, already getting hard again despite how she'd wrecked him not ten minutes ago. "I've been dying for this—for you—for fucking ages."
He stared up at her, thrown for a loop by how real she sounded, all raw and stripped bare. He'd picked up on her crush a long time ago, knowing she wanted him even now, despite the years that had passed—those little looks, touches that lasted too long had made it quite evident—but he'd always figured it was mostly her veela allure messing with him after he'd saved her. But now, with her naked and panting against him, it slammed into him hard.
His hands clamped down on her waist, his fingers sinking into her soft, warm skin. "Yeah?" he rasped, voice rough as gravel. "How long we talking?"
She smirked, a mix of shy and downright filthy, leaning in to drag her lips along his jaw, her breath hot and teasing. "Truly speaking? Since I was sixteen," she confessed, all husky and shameless, her teeth nipping at his earlobe until he shuddered, his cock jumping against her thigh. "Long after watching you at the Triwizard, all badass and reckless. I was basically a kid back then. But as the war went on, and whatever little I'd hear back then—I'd lie awake dreaming about you, about getting you like this."
She licked the shell of his ear, slow and wet, and he groaned, his hips twitching up without him meaning to. "Now I've got you, and I'm not letting this end quick."
Harry's laugh came out rough, a little unsteady. "You're making it damn near impossible to turn you down."
"Damn right," she fired back, crashing her mouth against his—hard, hungry, all teeth and tongue like she was marking him as hers. Her hands slid down his chest, her nails raking over his nipples, sending a jolt through him that had him moaning into her mouth, his hips bucking up on instinct. She broke the kiss, sliding off the chair and onto her feet, grabbing his hand with a wicked glint in her eye. "Come on. Bed. I want you properly. None of this chair business."
He wasn't about to say no to that. She yanked him up, and he stumbled after her across the room, shedding the last of his clothes—his shirt still dangling off his arms—until he was buck naked. The bed was neatly made up, but they all knew it'd be a mess soon, sheets all twisted from what they were about to do.
Gabrielle didn't waste a second. She spun around, her hands flat on his chest, and shoved him down onto the mattress. He hit it with a soft grunt, propping up on his elbows as she climbed over him, her bare, flushed body glowing in the low light, every curve screaming for his hands.
She swung a leg over his thighs, straddling him like she owned him, her hands roaming his chest, and her fingers tracing over his old scars and the light fuzz of hair.
"Goddamn, you're hot," she whispered, almost like she didn't mean to say it out loud, and leaned down, kissing him slow and dirty, her tongue sliding against his. Her hair spilled around them, brushing his skin like a tease, and he reached up, twisting his fingers in it, kissing her back with just as much heat. His other hand slid to her hip, steadying her.
Gabrielle sat back, her eyes glued to his as she wrapped her hand around his cock, stroking him slow and tight. He was rock-hard now, throbbing under her touch, and she smirked, loving how his hips jerked up into her grip like he couldn't help himself.
"Ready for me, huh?" she teased, her voice all low and husky.
"Been ready since you started this," he growled, lunging up to kiss her again, his hands grabbing her ass, squeezing hard enough to make her moan into his mouth. She ground down against him, and fuck, she was still dripping wet, slick and scorching against his thigh. "Get over here."
She didn't waste a second. Lifting up, she lined him up with her entrance and sank down slow, taking him in bit by bit. Harry groaned loud, his head dropping back as her tight, wet heat swallowed him whole—fucking perfect. Gabrielle gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders as she took him all the way, her hips slamming flush against his. They froze for a hot second, just breathing, soaking in how insanely good it felt to finally be locked together like this.
"Shit, you feel amazing," he rasped, his hands clamping onto her hips, nudging her to move. She grinned down at him, a little winded, and started rocking—slow at first, finding her groove. Her walls gripped him tight, and he cursed again, the sensation frying his brain. She leaned forward, her hands braced on his chest, and kicked it up a notch, her hips rolling in this filthy rhythm that had his eyes crossing.
"Like that?" she purred, her voice cracking on a moan as she rode him harder, her tits bouncing with every slam. Harry couldn't even form words—he just groaned, his hands sliding up to grab those bouncing orbs, and his thumbs flicking over her hard nipples. She arched into him, her head thrown back, and watching her lose it on top of him was almost enough to finish him right there.
He sat up fast, one arm snaking around her waist, and flipped them without pulling out. She yelped, then laughed, wild and sexy, as he pinned her under him, her legs hooking around his hips like a vice.
"My turn now," he growled, kissing her hard and messy as he thrust deep, setting a pace that was all heat and hunger. The bed groaned under them, the headboard smacking the wall, but they didn't give a damn. Gabrielle moaned loudly, her hands clawing at his back, and her nails carving hot lines into his skin as he pounded into her.
"Harry—oh, fuck, yes—" Her voice was trashed, that thick accent coming out stronger, and it lit him up, pushing him to go harder. He hitched one of her legs up higher, pulling it upright and resting the back of her thigh against his chest as he sank in deeper, and she cried out, her walls fluttering around him like she was about to explode. He could tell she was close, her breaths all short and frantic, so he eased off just a bit, dragging it out to keep her on the edge.
"Not yet, babe," he muttered against her neck, kissing the sweaty skin there, tasting the salt. "Wanna feel you like this longer."
She whined, half-laughing, half-begging. "You're a bastard."
"And you're eating it up," he shot back, grinning as he ramped up again, slamming into her so hard she gasped, loud and sharp. She did love it—her moans got wilder, her hips bucking up to meet every thrust, and when she came, it was with a raw, shuddering scream, her body locking down around him so tightly he nearly blew right then. He slowed, letting her ride it out, kissing her sloppy and deep as she shook under him.
When she caught her breath, she shoved at his chest, flipping them again until she was back on top.
"Ain't done with you," she panted, her eyes flashing with that naughty spark. She slid off him, spinning around to get on her hands and knees, and threw a hot look back over her shoulder that was pure sin. "Fuck me like this."
Harry didn't need to be asked twice. He scrambled up, kneeling behind her, his hands gripping her hips as he lined up and pushed in, groaning at how tight she felt from this angle—hotter, wetter, like she was sucking him in. She moaned loud, shoving back against him, and he started slow, watching her back arch, her ass bouncing with each thrust, all plump and perfect. In no time, he lost it, speeding up, pounding into her like he couldn't get enough. The room filled with the sound of skin slapping skin, her gasps, his grunts—raw, nasty, and so damn hot. His vision was filled with the sight of her plump ass jiggling as he pounded her hard and fast.
"Harder," she demanded, her voice muffled as she buried her face in the sheets, and he gave it to her, slamming in deep until she was trembling, her hands twisting the bedding into knots. He reached around, his fingers finding her clit, and started rubbing fast and rough to match his thrusts. She screamed his name when she came again, her whole body seizing up, pulsing around him so hard it dragged him over the edge. He buried himself to the hilt, groaning loud and guttural as he came as well, his hips jerking as he spilled inside her, the heat of it leaving him dizzy.
They crashed together, a sweaty, panting mess of tangled arms and legs on the trashed bed, the sheets twisted up like a war zone. But Gabrielle wasn't anywhere near tapped out—hell no. She rolled onto her side, her lips finding his for a slow, sloppy kiss, and her hand sneaking down to wrap around his cock, stroking him with this lazy, teasing grip.
"One more round. Come on," she whispered, her voice dripping with filthy promise, and he laughed, a rough, wrecked sound, already twitching to life under her touch.
She didn't wait for him to catch his breath. With a wicked little smirk, she let that veela magic hum through her, a warm, electric buzz that sank into his skin, lighting him up from the inside. He felt it hit—his dick hardening fast, like she'd flipped a switch, and he groaned, half-amazed, half-desperate.
"Fuck, you're unreal," he muttered, but she just grinned, all smug and sexy.
Gabrielle swung a leg over him, flipping around to face away—reverse cowgirl style—and sank down slow, letting him watch every inch of her take him in. Her hips rolled in these lazy, torturous circles, teasing the hell out of him, and he grabbed her ass, his palms full of her soft, bouncy curves, guiding her as she started to move faster. The view was pure porn—her back flexing, the muscles shifting under her skin, her hair spilling down like a wild cascade, and the way her tight, wet heat stretched around his cock, gripping him like she never wanted to let go. He couldn't peel his eyes off her.
She leaned forward, her hands bracing on his thighs, her nails digging in just enough to sting, and started riding him hard, bouncing with this raw, hungry rhythm that had his head spinning. Every slam of her hips sent a jolt through him, her ass jiggling with each thrust, and he couldn't resist—his hand came down with a sharp smack, cracking against her cheek. She gasped, a filthy little sound, and he did it again, harder, watching the skin flush pink under his palm.
"Fuck, yes," she moaned, grinding down even dirtier, clearly loving the sting.
Harry's hands slid up her sides as he tugged her toward himself, reaching around to grab her tits, and squeezing them rough and greedy. Her nipples were hard, begging for attention, and he pinched them between his fingers, rolling them as she bucked against him. She arched her back, pushing her chest into his hands, and he tugged harder, making her whimper—a high, filthy sound that shot straight to his groin.
"You like that?" he growled, his voice scraped raw, and she just nodded, too lost in it to talk, her hips never slowing.
He let one hand drift lower, his fingers brushing where they were joined, feeling how soaked she was, slick and messy from all they'd already done. He teased her clit with quick, light flicks, and she jolted, a loud "Oh, shit—" spilling out as her pace faltered for a second. He kept it up, circling faster, pressing harder, and she leaned back against his chest, her head lolling on his shoulder, giving him better access. Her breaths were ragged now, all hot and uneven against his neck, and he nipped at her earlobe, sucking it into his mouth as he worked her over.
She reached back, one hand tangling in his hair, pulling hard enough to make him hiss, and he retaliated with another smack to her ass, the sound echoing in the room.
"Harry—fuck, keep going," she panted, her voice a wrecked, sexy mess, and he grinned against her skin, loving how she was falling apart on top of him. Her hips rolled wilder, chasing that edge, and he matched her, thrusting up to meet her every time she slammed down, their bodies slapping together in a rhythm that was all heat and need.
When she came, it was quieter this time—a soft, shuddering moan that shook her whole body—but it hit her just as hard, her walls clamping down around him so tight he saw stars. He wasn't far behind; the feel of her pulsing, the sight of her trembling ass still bouncing on him, dragged him right over.
"Gabrielle—shit," he groaned, his hands locking onto her hips as he thrust up one last time, spilling deep inside her with a low, guttural sound that ripped out of his chest.
They stayed locked like that for a minute, gasping for air, her body still twitching around him, before she finally slid off, collapsing beside him in a sweaty heap. She curled into his side, one leg slung over his, her head resting on his chest as she caught her breath.
"Worth the wait?" he asked, his voice hoarse and rough, barely above a whisper.
She laughed, soft and sated, and pressed a lazy kiss to his chest, right over his pounding heart.
"Every damn second," she murmured, and they just lay there, totally spent, tangled up in each other.
Both knew what happened was just the beginning.
TBC.
Visit patreon.com/TheBlackEarl if you'd like to access chapters in advance. Chapter 28 of this fic is already up over there.
Also, check out my other fics if you like this one.
Thanks for reading!