Fingers massaged her flesh, feathering away all of the aches until Celia could think of nothing but the building pleasure. When his mouth suddenly moved over the curve of one full cheek, his tongue swiping the satiny expanse in a lavish caress, Celia gasped in shock.

A tiny whimper escaped her throat when Gabriel gripped her hips. He kept her in place, the brutal tenderness of his fingers biting into her skin. “Stay, Celia.” His whisper skated across her flesh, chasing the goosebumps that popped up.

Then she sensed him crouching down lower and lower still, until his mouth was suddenly between her legs. Hot and invasive, his tongue traced the outer folds of her sex as he nuzzled deeper into her.

“Gabriel!” Celia cried out, her fingers digging into the edges of the table. Everything inside her, every emotion and the pulsating of her veins pooled where his wicked mouth was centered. “Oh, God. Please… please… more.”

“You will not beg God for your pleasure. You will beg me.”

A thousand needles of pleasure encroached all at once. Gabriel growled, his tongue sweeping through the moisture seeping from her body. He sucked at it with a greedy hunger, his teeth grazing her button of nerves until Celia nearly screamed from the intensity of it. Before she knew what he was about, Gabriel’s tongue sharpened into a point. He speared it at that little button over and over until Celia was shattering into a million pieces. Flung through the universe and all the stars as if she were a flaming arrow.

Gabriel feasted fully on her, never letting up as she rode the waves and trembled with the aftershocks. Only when she whimpered did he show mercy. The caress gentled into a slow, intense worship.

The climax left her shaken. Weak. Delirious. Never had she gone through such an experience before. She did not know how she remained upright. Her legs were as wobbly as a newborn filly.

One of his hands left her hip, and a second later there was the sound of fabric rustling as he stood to his full height. Celia knew what it meant, but she could not bring herself to move away. She could not even muster the strength to close her legs. Instead, she remained draped across the table in languid contentment.

“I cannot wait any longer to claim you, my sweet Celia. Thorns or no, I’m taking you now.” Gabriel’s arm inserted itself between the tabletop and her abdomen. He lifted her from the desk, and Celia instinctively braced herself with palms flat on the wood.

Their eyes met and clashed in the mirror’s reflection. Celia could not look away from the half-crazed desire she saw in Gabriel’s features. He looked wild. Savage. Feral.

And she looked the same.

There was no other sound in the room than their harsh breathing until Gabriel spoke.

“Will you be mine at last, Celia Rosenthorne?”

The question was unexpected.

Celia’s heart twisted with that surprising pang of tenderness. Once again, Gabriel was on the verge of madness, and yet he asked permission before claiming what was his.