He shoved his own plate and wine glass aside as Celia sidled between his legs. Her back was to the table, and because she was standing and he remained seated, her breasts were at the perfect height for his mouth. He could kiss her there if he wanted, and suddenly that was all Celia could think of. Gabriel’s wet, warm mouth worshipping her breasts. The scrape of his stubbled chin against her aching nipples. The sting of his teeth when he nipped her flesh before soothing it with laps of his tongue.

“I cannot seem to get enough of you, Celia. You’ve invaded my shadows, and now I want to keep you there with me forever.” Gabriel did not touch her as he spoke, his hands resting casually on the arms of his chair, but Celia vibrated with his words, regardless. “Pull your skirts up for me.”

Her hands shook, but she did as commanded and then stood waiting, great drifts of fabric clutched in her fists.

“Such a good, obedient girl when it suits you.” His low laughter made her blush. “Up onto the table, pet.”

“Gabriel…”

Her hesitation had his scarred eyebrow rising high. With a hard swallow of trepidation, Celia obeyed. Still clutching her skirts, her undergarments exposed to his fiery gaze, she moved onto the table and then sat with her legs dangling. The way Gabriel stared made Celia feel like she was indeed a confection for devouring.

“How pretty you are. My own little sugarplum waiting to be consumed.” Moving his chair closer, Gabriel’s hands roamed up the inside of her legs and spread her wider. His long, broad fingers found the opening in her flimsy undergarments, and with a sudden movement, they were ripped apart.

Celia gasped in shock, her legs automatically closing, but Gabriel prevented that. One hand gripped her thigh, holding her open, while the other swept against her sex. Celia trembled. She clutched her skirts with such violence the silk might never recover.

“Already so wet for me,” he murmured, trailing a finger down her seam in a teasing manner. “And so fucking sweet.”

Celia watched as he plucked a plum from his dessert and dipped it in the cream. She thought he would plop it into his mouth, but instead, he ran the piece of fruit over the lips of her vagina and nestled it into the folds.

She gasped for air, and when his eyes met hers, the darkness she saw made her a little afraid for her own sanity.

“You asked if I would eat my dessert, Celia. And I will. I’m going to devour the sweetness of your hot little quim now, and you will refrain from reaching your climax.”

“I don’t… I don’t understand,” Celia muttered, distracted because her body was so heated. Her inner channel was already clenching with need. Her thighs were slick with a wave of moisture just from his words.

Why did he not seem to experience the same wild desperation she did? How did he maintain this cool composure when she was already on the edge of exploding? It wasn’t fair.