Celia could not help herself, even with the threat of being gagged. She let out a strangled cry of delight, her body no longer her own. Every heartbeat, every drop of blood, every nerve and vein belonged to Gabriel. The climax washed over her without warning. Ecstasy wrung quivering moans from her throat, and Gabriel’s response was instant and instinctive.

His hands slipped to her bottom. Cupping the cheeks of her buttocks within his large palms, his fingers dug into the plumpness thorough the fabric. Her hips were slightly elevated until the core of her body was more easily devoured.

Then he sucked all of her wet, swollen flesh into his mouth, drinking in her release. Demanding everything. Taking all without mercy.

Celia trembled. She hovered in a state of suspended pleasure. Orgasmic tendrils curled and invaded every inch of her body and soul. She was flung to the stars beyond the moon while plummeting to land in a cloud of feathers at the same time.

Gabriel’s moan of possession echoed in the room. He continued feasting as he appeased his hunger.

His mouth softened as the peak receded, but he continued tenderly licking all her aching, yet satisfied parts. Lassitude crept over Celia until she could barely open her eyes. She sagged against the cushion of the chair, breathing deep, trying to still her racing heart. As she slowly floated back to earth, she became aware of Gabriel murmuring words against the skin of her thighs and the quivering flesh between them.

“Ma douce fille. Ma dragee piquante.”

The love words spoken in French made Celia’s heart clench with something dangerous. Something wild and unknown. Something she’d never felt before and had no idea how to manage.

My sweet girl. My prickly sugarplum.

Gabriel lowered her until she was once again completely seated in the chair, his hands sliding away from her bottom. Then he moved up her body by incremental degrees, straightening her undergarments and pulling her skirts back into place so her legs were once again properly covered.

With a smile, Gabriel pried her hands off the chair, lifting them until they looped around his neck as he bent over her. He braced himself, his hands mimicking her grip on the chair arms. There was a glint of satisfaction in his molten gaze as Celia stared at him in wonderment.

He pressed a lingering kiss on her mouth, his firm, warm lips brushing over hers and breathing in her tiny pants of air.

Celia tasted herself on his mouth. It was both strange and exotic. Intimate and inappropriate. Her arms tightened around his neck as longing overcame her.

Oh, how she wanted to taste him in the same manner he’d tasted her. She began to tell him so, but he brushed another kiss across her mouth and she remained silent.

Gabriel did not straighten his form, nor did he remove Celia’s arms from around his neck. He maintained his stance with a certain degree of arrogance and said, “Shall I pleasure you once more before your mother arrives and attempts trapping us into marriage?”