by J A Wynters
“Gabriel,” My name a strangled moan. Her body shook under my touch, and I released her.
I sat back onto the bed, my erection painful and swollen. Her short breaths and lost composure threatened to push me over the edge.
“Ask me.” Mia’s breathless voice begged me.
“Question number three. Are your parents alive?”
Her eyes welled with tears, and she shook her head. I couldn't tell how raw the pain was—how fresh or deep—because she stood up and pushed my torso onto the bed, my legs hung over the side.
“My reward.” Her mouth sank around my cock, and it was all I can do not to fall apart.
I groaned at the warmth. Her tongue flickered over me, and I shuddered at the sensation. “I won’t last long.” My voice was gritty and drenched in need.
She pulled away for an eternal instance. “I’m counting on it.”
My hands clutched the sheet, and my knuckles turned white as her head dipped and her lips sucked. The heat of her mouth sending shivers down my spine. Her head bobbed and her breast danced around as she sank deeper and deeper around me. I groaned as I could feel the tension build up in my spine. Everything became harder, tighter, more desperate. And then she popped me out of her mouth. I growled in desperation, and Mia flicked her tongue over the head. I was feverish with need and tortured with the ache in my cock as she kept me on the edge. But the edge was coming. It was riding in like a wave, fast and furious, and there would be nothing that could stop it.
Her full, pouty lips closed on me once more, and this time there was no reprieve. Long and deep, she took me in and stroked my shaft. Electricity zapped in the head of my cock as her teeth grazed my skin.
“I can’t hold on.” I warned her, expecting her to retreat. Instead, she sucked deeper, harder, and faster. My entire core coiled, and my spine shuddered as I released myself into her mouth. Want and need, desire and hunger poured from me as I jerked and clutched and twisted. Still, she sucked and licked and remained in total control of me, my body, my undoing. I had never been so turned on and so exhilarated.
My heart raced and thumped as I reached for Mia. I wanted her on my mouth and on my body. I needed to share this with her. But instead, she pulled her hand away and licked her lips.
“Not till question number four.”
I groaned in frustration.
Elation.
Confusion.
My senses frayed, my mind reeling.
“Mia…”
“Question four.” She ensnared me with her brown eyes. “What did you mean last night? Why do you need to protect me? What is so dangerous? Where is all the pain coming from?”
My head fell back onto the bed, and I clenched my jaw. She asked and I would need to answer.
“Those are four questions.” I stalled.
She bit her lower lip, and her eyes travelled the length of my body. My cock twitched at the heated look. Mia straddled me. The heat of her arousal against my groin.
“You’re stalling.” She slid along me, a slow measured movement, my cock responding.
“One question.” I groaned.
“I need to know.” Her hips rolled above me again. I reached for them, and she pushed my hands away.
“You’re cheating,” I growled as she clawed at my abdomen.
“So are you.” I placed my hands back on her thighs, and this time she allowed me to guide her as she moved above me again. My cock rigid once more, I groaned at the feel of her against me.
“Answer me.”
“Why? What difference would it make?”
“All the difference.” She slid herself along my length, and my hand grazed her inner thigh.
She sucked in a breath but was undeterred.
“Pick one.”
She bit her lower lip, and her body sank onto my hardness as she slid herself against me in a slow measured movement.
“Who are you afraid of?”
“You’ve changed the question.”
“I’ve changed the rules.” She rolled above me, pulling from me another agonised growl.
“That’s not fair.”
“Who said anything about being fair?” With another movement, my stomach coiled and the ache and need grew once again.
“I don’t play with cheaters.” I hissed and bucked, grabbing her arm and pulling her onto the bed. In a fluid motion, I was above her with my hips pinning her to the bed.
She yelped and bucked, but I pinned her hands beside her body and watched as her pink nipples danced; and her hair flew in frenzied waves; and her mouth rounded; and her cheeks flooded with pink. I wanted to sink so deep into her that I would embed myself there permanently. Leave a mark so deep, so feral that she would never be able to get rid of it.
“Gabriel, get off me.”
“No.”
“Gabriel.”
“You cheated.” My voice was so husky, she froze. I kissed her neck. “You bent the rules.” I flicked a tongue over her nipple. “You’re driving me insane.” I ground my hips against her wetness and she moaned.
“Pick one question, Mia. That’s all you’re going to get out of me, because after I give you my answer I am going to claim my reward.” My voice ached with want.
Mia’s body trembled beneath me, her ragged breathing hissing through her mouth. “What pain, Gabriel? Tell me.”
Shit.
Why did she pick that one?
Why did she ask any of them?
But, right then it didn’t matter. She needed an answer, any answer, because I needed her.
“The pain of losing everything. Losing you.”
“You can’t lose me, Gabriel.”
“I can’t have you, Mia.”
I didn’t explain. I allowed myself to plunge into her, and she made the sweetest sound.
My mouth found hers and the sweet kisses were forgotten as heat seared through us both. Teeth clinking and tongues warring, our lips mashed together in a battle we both wanted to win, and we both needed to lose.
As she clawed and dug into my skin, I realised that sometime in the last few weeks she had become mine. Losing her would be the biggest pain I’d have to endure—harder than all of my shit-ass childhood, harsher than being at the mercy of Tony, more difficult than piling bodies and digging up graves. Losing Mia would scorch the very last pieces of humanity I had left. She would leave me bitter and angry and totally wrecked.
But keeping her was impossible. I would become obsessed by her, crazed and unhinged; and when they come to hurt her, so they could hurt me, I knew I would take desperate measures to keep her, to expose myself to her. And if I did, if I truly showed her what I was capable of and all I had done to possess the little I had, would she want to stay? If I showed her the monster, would she cover her eyes? Would she run?
Pain.
Wracking, agonising, torturous pain. Beautiful, infuriating, soft, angry pain.
I pushed into Mia again and again, her soft moans soothing the rising desperation.
“Gabriel.” She called to me as her whole body writhed and shivered beneath me.
I pulled out and grabbed her waist, flipping her on to her belly. I didn’t have to use words. Her body knew what mine needed, and she rose on her knees with her head thrust into the sheet.
I plunged into her depths, my fingers seeking out her wetness as the seed of our desire grew. The twisted ache sprouted into salacious urgency, and I could feel that her desire matched mine—the need—in the way that her mouth pouted, and soft moans spilt from her lips. In the way her hands clawed at the sheet, white-knuckled. In the desperate way her hips crashed into my thrust, grinding against my finger—opening, bending, pushing, smashing, clashing.
Her body seized and screamed and, in a fit of moans, her pussy clenched and gripped and tugged at my cock. The ball of white-hot sensation lingered in my core, forcing me to pound against her, into her, through her. I reeled in the sound of her voice, battered against the feel of her skin, thrashed against the grip of her or
gasm and, with a final hammering pulse, I groaned my release. The waves of her pleasure draining from me the last of my own as my insides already constricted with heartache.
I fell onto her back, my body smothering hers, covered in hot sweat and insatiable need.
I clutched onto her, clutched on to the idea of having her, and then I let go. I rolled over onto my back and tried to remember how to breathe.
Mia turned to me, her head resting on my chest her hand twirling in the patch of hair there. We lay silent.
Absorbing.
Accepting.
Sinking.
Drowning.
“Gabriel?”
“Yeah.” My hand found her spine, and I trailed the delicate skin.
“What do you mean you can’t have me?”
I took a galvanising breath. My hand plunged into her hair and tugged at the strands, forcing her to look at me. But instead of talk, I found her lips—red and raw, soft and inviting, sucking and tugging.
When I pulled away, I feared it might be for the last time.
“There are people who don’t like the fact that I’ve come to acquire this place or the method by which I did. There are people who question how and why I’m here and, these people, they’re not good people.”
“Gabriel…” I raised a hand to silence her.
“They’ve tried to hurt me before, and they’ll probably do it again. And if they know,” I raked a hand through my hair, “If they sense, if they think, if they get a whiff of the feelings I have for you, you will become a weapon to use against me. You will be in danger because of me. You will get hurt, and I won’t be able to bear that mark.”
“Gabriel…”
“Don’t.”
“I’m not afraid of them.”
“Then you’re being stupid. This isn’t a game where the rules can be bent. This isn’t a game at all. It’s real and it’s fucking petrifying.”
“My feeling for you are also real.” Her voice raged with anger and hurt.
I rolled off the bed and stood up, running my palms along my face.
“You said everything was legal, above board.” Her tone was scathing, broken.
“I didn’t lie”
“So why are they after you?”
“The game is over, Mia. No more questions.”
“I thought this wasn’t a game.”
“It’s not!”
“Then why won’t you answer me?”
“Because it’s none of your fucking business.” I sighed. My chest rose and fell with angry breaths.
“Don’t.” It was so soft, so full of anguish.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t shut me out. Don’t believe that you’re not good enough. You are. You are good, I’ve seen it. You deserved to be loved.”
I scoffed at her. “I’m not looking for love. I’m not looking for anything.”
She stood from the bed and reached for me, her neck craned and her swollen eyes searching mine. “Why are you doing this?”
Why?
Because I knew how much she meant to me already, how dangerous it was, how much I needed to be entwined in her and never let go. Like a vine that climbs a fence and grows and spreads until it suffocates it, that’s what I would do. My love would be all consuming. I would be selfish, and all I would want is to possess her, to own what’s mine, to protect it at all costs. Loving her would be the most exquisite form of self-destruction.
The silence of my thoughts stretched as my heart ricochet in my chest.
“You put up walls, thinking you’re strong. But, really, they just hold you back from experiencing so many beautiful things.” Her voice cracked. “I can’t fix you, and I don't want to; that’s an inside job, Gabriel.”
She placed her hands on my chest, pushing against the skin, searching for a heart that was already in pieces.
She searched my face, maybe for softness, maybe a crack in my resolve. “I’ll stay if you just say that you’ll try. Let me over your walls.”
“You don’t want to see over the wall. You want to break them all down.”
“And, what’s wrong with that?”
I ran my hands over my face. Everything—why couldn’t she see?
“We can’t be together.”
“Yes, we can.”
“I won’t put you in danger.”
“That’s not your call to make.”
“I’ve already made it.”
“Fuck you, Gabriel.”
“You just did.” I smiled at her, a cocky asshat grin
The slap came out of nowhere; I can’t say it was unexpected, but it stung deeper and longer than it should have.
Her wild hair swayed about her as she pulled on her shirt and found her underwear. She slammed her legs through the holes and retrieved her skirt. She was dressed too fast. Everything was happening too fast. Her angry eyes stared blankly, cold and swollen with humiliation. Her face red, and her hands shaking.
I went too far. Or maybe not far enough.
She marched out of my room, letting the door slam shut followed a few seconds later by the reverberating bang of the heavy iron door.
My body already ached at the memory of her touch, as I was swallowed by the silence. Drenched in sweat and guilt, my fists pounded the bed. I raked slow fingers across my face, my teeth grinding as they held my screams captive.
She just told me her parents died, and I sent her home crying, telling her all I was after was a cheap fuck.
I fell back onto my bed, lying there like a dead man—a corpse whose heart had stopped beating, a ravaged, collapsing carcass of a man. She deserved so much better.
Everything slowed as I fell from the bed and dressed. I didn’t want to shower or brush my teeth. I didn’t want to wash away what she had left behind—her smell, her taste, her echoing warmth—I may never shower again, not until the musk would turn into a stink. As always, I took something beautiful and crushed it.
By the time I reached Simone’s, I had rebuilt the walls—cold, hard, and impenetrable. Spots came rushing over and stopped as if sensing a change, a break; a sorrow buried so deep that only his nose could find it, like a corpse buried six feet under.
He didn’t leap or run home. Spots walked by my side, his head turning up at me, his watery eyes flickering questioning looks.
“She’ll be back on Monday. For work.” He wagged his tail.
My head throbbed and the light seared through my retinas. I swung my legs over the side of the bed kicking the cold glass. It clinked and rolled.
I fell to my knees and dug the bottle from under the bed. I fumbled with the cap and sipped on the last few drops of whiskey. The drink sloshed down my throat, burning all the way down. I tossed the empty bottle away and pulled myself up.
My stomach lurched in protest, and I ignored it. I’ve been hungry before. Anyway, a liquid diet was still a diet. Substituting alcohol with food was a real thing. Beer had yeast and bread had yeast; by that comparison I’d had over twenty-four sandwiches in the last twenty-four hours. The whiskey was just the dessert.
I pissed, barely holding myself up and ran a hand over my face. A day and a half of growth bristled against my palm. I washed my hands and splashed some water on my face. Nothing was going to fix the dark circles or sunken skin.
I ran my wet hand over my bed hair and brushed my teeth. I had already washed away her taste. The alcohol like a disinfectant eroding her away from my system. I pulled on my work jeans and a black shirt and stepped into the workshop. Everything was too bright and too loud. The boys were already working. I looked at the time. Just after ten. Shit.
I looked up at the office. Mia wasn’t there. My jaw clenched as the shrill of the phone cut across the workshop. It must have rang twenty times before it fell silent again.
My eyes wrenched themselves from the office windows. Maybe they thought that by staring Mia would appear. I could feel eyes on me, and I turned to see Romeo and Leo staring at me.
“She didn’t come
this morning.” Leo’s tone was cautious.
“Yeah, no shit.” My voice was gritty and coarse and the alcohol leached from every pore. “Get back to work.”
I wobbled up the stairs and went into the office. Everything was untouched since Saturday night. The chair pushed against the wall. The desk meticulous, minus a singular whiskey tumbler that held an inch of water.
I grabbed the glass and threw some ice into it. I poured a generous portion of whiskey from the decanter and gulped. The alcohol rushed through my veins and steadied my nerves. The phone rang again.
I let it.
When it had fallen silent, I picked up the receiver and called Mia’s number.
Voicemail.
I tried again.
And again
And again.
After the sixth time, I threw the phone across the room. It exploded against the tempered window, which imploded in veins that spread across the length of the pane. I stared at the cracks like I was looking at a window to my soul. I stormed down the stairs. “I’m going out,” I called after me, as I exited through the open roller door.
I arrived at her apartment and knocked on the door. Nothing.
I pounded on her door. “Mia,” I called as I continued pounding. “Open the door.” Alcohol and rage were not a good mix for me
I waited. Listened. Wondered.
But she was gone.
I sank to the floor, leaning against the door, my stomach growling, and suddenly I was six again and waiting to wake the fuck up.
To be continued…
Acknowledgments
A Word from Jane:
I would like to start by thanking you, the reader, so much for reading! If you enjoyed the story, please leave a review and recommend the book to any friend you think would love Gabriel’s story. You will have my eternal love and gratitude. Even a few short words go a long way.
As always, I would love to thank my wonderful friend and beta Dawn, her enthusiasm knows no boundaries, her genuine love for books, reading, and helping authors is contagious and humbling. I have loved having her in my corner. Thank you.