After a very enjoyable time in the hot tub, Gabriel prepared an Umbrian dinner. Bruschetta con pomodoro e basilico, tagliatelle with olive oil and black truffles from the villa’s estate, and a cheese course with local artisan cheeses and bread. They ate their fill, laughing and drinking a fine white wine from Orvieto in the candlelight. After dinner, Gabriel made a nest of blankets and pillows on the floor in front of the living room fireplace.
He plugged his iPhone into the sound system so they could continue enjoying his Loving Julianne playlist. Then he took her into his arms as they sat on the floor, finishing their wine, while the sounds of medieval chant swirled around their heads. They were naked, wrapped in blankets, and unashamed.
“The music is beautiful. What is it?” She closed her eyes as she focused on the female voices, which were singing a cappella.
“‘Gaudete’ by The Mediaeval Baebes. It’s a Christmas song.”
“That’s quite the name for a music group.”
“They’re very talented. I saw them live the last time they came to Toronto.”
“Oh, really?”
Gabriel smirked at her. “Are you jealous Miss Mitchell?”
“Should I be?”
“No. My arms are full. Completely.”
Their talking ceased against the backdrop of celestial voices as their kisses began. Soon their bodies were tangling naked next to the fire.
In the glow of the orange flames, Julia pushed Gabriel down on his back and straddled his hips. He grinned as he let her lead, welcoming her newfound confidence. “It isn’t so scary, being on top, is it?”
“No. But I’m more comfortable with you now. I think the wall sex back at the hotel shook loose my inhibitions.”
He wondered silently what other inhibitions he could shake loose with various kinds of sex—shower sex, for example. Or perhaps, the holy grail of domestic coupling—kitchen table sex.
Her voice interrupted his thoughts. “I want to please you.”
“You do. So much.”
She reached a hand behind her and lightly touched the top of his groin. “With my mouth. I feel badly that I haven’t been able to reciprocate. You’ve been so generous.”
His body reacted to her low whisper and hesitant hand. “Julianne, there’s no quid pro quo here. I do things with you because I want to.” His lips curled up into a half-smile. “But since you’re offering…”
“I know men prefer it.”
He shrugged. “Great sex will always be better. In comparison, everything else could only be an amuse bouche.” He winked at her wickedly, squeezing her hip for emphasis.
“Is this position okay? With you lying down or…?”
“It’s fine,” he whispered, his eyes suddenly alight.
“I suppose it’s better than me on my knees.” She watched his reaction from the corner of her eye.
“That’s right. I, on the other hand, am happy to kneel before my Princess in order to pleasure her. As I have already demonstrated.”
Julia laughed softly. Then her smile disappeared. “I need to tell you something.”
He gazed up at her expectantly.
“I have a gag reflex.”
A furrow appeared between his eyebrows. “I’d be worried if you didn’t.”
Julianne avoided his probing expression as her hand slipped lower. “Mine is kind of strong.”
His hand closed over hers.
“It won’t be an issue, darling. I promise.” He squeezed her hand.
She moved farther down, and he began to weave her hair around his fingers, tugging playfully.
Julia froze.
For an oblivious moment, he toyed with her long, silken hair. Then he realized that she wasn’t moving. “What’s wrong?”
“Please don’t hold my head down.”
“I wasn’t going to.” He sounded perturbed.
She remained perfectly still, waiting. For what, he didn’t know. He let go of her hair so he could lift her chin. “Sweetheart?”
“Um, it’s only because Idon’twanttothrowuponyou.”
“What was that?”
She ducked her head. “I’ve—thrown up—before.”
He stared at her incredulously. “What…after?”
“Um, no.”
Gabriel was silent for some time, then his eyes narrowed. “Were you sick because of a gag reflex, or because that bastard held you down?”
She cringed, her head moving in the slightest of nods.
Gabriel swore, his anger burning blue. He sat up swiftly, rubbing his face with his hands.
In the past, he hadn’t been tender with his sexual conquests, although he’d prided himself on maintaining some vestige of good manners. Less so when he was doing cocaine. Despite the Bacchanalia that he’d participated in, parties that had approximated the decadence of Rome on occasion, he’d never, ever held a girl’s head down until she vomited. Nobody did that. Not even the drug dealers and addicts he used to hang around with did that, and they had no boundaries or moral compunctions at all. Only an incredibly sick, twisted, misogynistic motherfucker would get his kicks from humiliating a woman that way.