Falling For The Forbidden

by Hawkins, Jessica

  “Thank you,” I say awkwardly. “You didn’t have to.”

  “Yes, I did.” He lifts Oscar from the covers and puts him in his cat bed in the corner. “He doesn’t need to see this.”

  I’m not sure if he’s joking or serious, but the insinuation behind his words makes my underwear damp. I don’t want this reaction, but I’m helpless to stop my body from wanting what he gives.

  He drums his fingers on my wrist. Whatever is going through his mind, he’s giving it deep thought. Finally, he breaks the silence with a single command.

  “Undress.”

  I can fight and argue, cry and plead, but it won’t make a difference. It never does to men like him. Sitting up, I take the hem of the nightgown and pull it over my head. My underwear follows next. I don’t want to drag it out. The quicker we get this over with, the quicker I can go back to pretending I don’t want him to touch me like this.

  Gabriel doesn’t hide his arousal from me. He’s comfortable with it, like he is with his body and clothes. His erection strains under the fabric of his pants, but he doesn’t touch it or go for his zipper. He tucks my hair over my shoulders with a gentle brush and continues with his orders.

  “On your knees and open your legs.”

  Heat creeps up my neck as I take the posture that opens me up for his gaze, but I lift my chin and face him squarely. I won’t surrender to my shame, not with him in the room. For a long moment, his eyes fix between my thighs, seemingly pleased that I obeyed his order to shave.

  He tests the weight of my breasts, sending an uncontainable shiver over my skin. I can’t prevent my nipples from hardening.

  “Shoulders back, tits forward.”

  I give him what he wants and wait.

  A rare smile tugs at his lips. “You’re so brave, Valentina.” Without warning, his hand slips between my legs. He cups a broad palm over my sex. “I love your cunt bare. Do you know what

  I want to do to you?”

  He doesn’t wait for my answer, but flicks the forefinger of his free hand left and right over the tip of my breast. The movement is firm and fast, and it makes my already heavy breast turn even more swollen. While he’s toying with my nipple, he pushes his middle finger against the opening of my vagina. He doesn’t penetrate me, but runs the tip of his finger up and down my slit. The rasp of the rough skin of his pad feels more intense on my shaved skin. Strangely, his touch on my breast echoes in my clit. The nub between my folds swells and throbs with aching need. Wetness coats his finger. I can feel the moisture as he slickens the outer walls of my opening with my arousal. Determined not to give him a sound, I gasp nevertheless when he grips my nipple between his thumb and forefinger with a pinch.

  Satisfaction bleeds into his expression. For some reason, he’s happy with my reaction.

  He’s happy that he has this effect on me. Another cry leaves my lips as he rolls my nipple.

  “Valentina,” he says with a moan, “you’re everything I want.”

  Alternating between pinching and rolling my nipple, he works my body into a state of desperate need. The bite of pain followed by the softer caress is too much to bear. No man has ever touched me like this. There’s so much wetness, his hand is covered. It takes everything I have not to grind into his palm. I don’t have to. He presses the pad of his thumb down on my clit, massaging in circular movements. His deft fingers abandon my tormented breast to start working on the other one. When he gives the curve a soft smack on the side, making it bounce, a gush of liquid heat spills from my body and coats his fingers.

  His eyes widen, and his pupils dilate. “You like that.”

  My lips part, and sounds I don’t want to make tumble from my mouth. Nerve endings in my lower body spark with electricity, and an invisible band of fire draws tight around my womb. It implodes, drawing all my feminine parts tight in my core before it snaps and explodes from my clit outward. All the while, I watch his face. I hold his eyes as much as he holds mine. For the briefest of moments, he’s exposed, and I understand why he’s enjoying this. My pleasure gives him power.

  With a hand on my back, he presses my upper body to his chest while he holds my sex in hand, applying gentle but unyielding pressure to my clit while aftershocks from my orgasm wrack my body. I shake in his hold, my energy spent, and my pleasure his. Only when my body turns quiet does he stop his assault on my clit. He keeps his hand between my legs still while he brushes a broad palm over my hair and down my back. His lips are warm and dry as he plants kisses from the arch of my neck down to my shoulder. His breath is a mist of heat on my skin. His erection is a steel rod that presses against my stomach from the difference in height with him standing and me on my knees, but he doesn’t pay it any attention. Slowly, he pushes me back on the mattress and straightens my legs. Kneeling on the floor between my legs, he kisses first my clit and then my folds, running his tongue over the wetness and lapping it up until I’m only wet from his tongue, but no longer slick.

  When he finally gets back on his feet, he wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. A flush burns on my cheeks.

  He smirks and bends over me to plant a firm kiss on the corner of my mouth. My scent is musky on him. He continues to plant kisses down my body, turning rougher. I’m still soaring from my orgasm when he starts nipping my nipples and pinching my clit. It takes him a long time to bring my body to a quick, but intense, second orgasm. His roughness, in contrast to the first orgasm, feels like punishment, but I can’t think of a single reason why. His house is spotless, and I stay away from the kitchen. By the time he’s done with me, he’s panting as hard as I am. He doesn’t angle his face away from me like I’m used to, but pulls me into a sitting position on the edge of the bed while his hands go for his pants.

  The air squeezes out of my lungs.

  He’s going to fuck my mouth.

  Chapter Six

  Valentina

  Visions of me on my knees in the middle of the road for anyone to see make my throat tight. I close my eyes, trying to visualize a black hole in space, anything so I can escape into a dark corner of my mind.

  “Open your eyes,” Gabriel commands.

  I obey. I don’t have a choice.

  “Unzip me.”

  He has undone the button of his pants. A trail of hair peaks out from under the open flaps. My hands shake as I pull down the zipper. I’m on eye level with his crotch, and he’s towering over me. The difference in strength between us chokes me. He can easily make me swallow him, and there will be nothing I can do.

  “Take me out.” His voice is quiet and calm. There’s nothing threatening about it.

  Slowly, I push the elastic of his briefs down his hips to free his erection. He’s impossibly big. Free from its constraints, his cock twitches and hardens more. The crest is broad and smooth. Manly veins run over the thick shaft to where the root is cushioned by heavy balls.

  He doesn’t grab my hair and force himself into my mouth, but simply stands there, watching me as I study his cock. I’ve never seen one from close-up. I’ve had Tiny’s down my throat, but I deliberately never looked at it. Gabriel’s is beautiful, a work of art.

  He doesn’t object when I slide a finger over his length from the bottom to the top, so I carry on with my exploration, caressing the velvety head. I’m rewarded with a drop of moisture that spills from the slit. In response, liquid heat gathers between my legs, even if I’ve just had two orgasms. When I wrap my fingers around him, he groans. Loudly. He’s not afraid to let me see the power I have. The deep lines that cut from his hips to his groin fascinate me. I abandon his cock to trace them with my fingers, surprised at how hard the muscle is underneath. A white scar runs across his hip, covering bone and flesh. He grits his teeth when I trace it, but doesn’t say anything. His cock jerks when I run my hands down to his inner thighs and cup his balls.

  They’re soft and heavy, contracting in my palm.

  “Valentina,” he moans, “suck me already or zip me up.”

  He’s giving me a
choice? Emotion clogs up my chest. I swallow and look up to catch his expression. He’s looking down at me with something like hope and acceptance. He’ll take whatever I’m prepared to give.

  He strokes my hair, his big hand cupping the back of my head. “Take only what you want.”

  At the verbal confirmation, my fear vanishes. He’ll let me stop. He won’t hold it against me. I lick my lips to moisten them, uncertain how to proceed. I’ve never done this without force.

  “However you want,” he whispers. “There’s no right or wrong way.”

  I inch to the edge of the bed, taking his cock in both hands. Holding him close to my mouth, I flick out my tongue to taste him. A strangled grunt escapes when I lick over the crest. He tastes of earth and sea, a mixture of fertile soil and salty air, and I love it. I lick down to the base to see if it’s the same, and when I suck a testicle into my mouth the heady taste intensifies.

  “Fuck. Goddammit.”

  He threads his fingers through my hair, but he doesn’t pull. He’s holding onto me for support as I take his control. The knowledge gives me more power, and it makes me brave. I slicken the whole shaft with my tongue, using my saliva as a lubricant for my hands. I grip his girth firmly, one hand above the other, and move my fists down while pushing my lips over him.

  “Ah, fuck.” Air wheezes through his teeth. “Yes.”

  I suck him into my mouth, hollowing my cheeks, and running my tongue over the head.

  He buries his fingers deeper in my hair. “Yes, beautiful, just like that.”

  When I glide my hands up and down his length where my mouth doesn’t reach, he grows even thicker in my mouth. His hold on my hair tightens, and his ass clenches. “Pull out if you don’t want to swallow.”

  I don’t want to give my power away, yet. He’s letting me do what I want with him, and his cock is jerking in my mouth. He’s close. I want to take him all the way. There’s agony in his eyes. I recognize the look, know the depth of that kind of pleasure. I felt it at his hands, lips, tongue, and teeth. I open my throat and take him deep, breathing through my nose.

  His jaw clenches as he grunts out his pleasure while warm jets coat my tongue. He holds my head in the gentle vice of his palms as he empties himself. Keeping his hips still, he lets me suck him dry rather than moving between my lips. I take every drop like I earned it, drinking down the dizzying cocktail of male ecstasy and feminine power.

  Looking spent, he bends over and leans our foreheads together while he catches his breath. I’m still floating on a cloud of warm satisfaction knowing I pleased a man like him, when he tilts my head and crushes our lips together. He kisses me fiercely, tangling our tongues, and sucking my bottom lip into his mouth. When he finally lets go, I’m breathless.

  His eyes crinkle in the corners. “You taste good with my cum on your tongue.” A wave of heat creeps up my neck and spreads to my cheeks.

  He chuckles and kisses my forehead. “Zip me up.”

  I bend to pull up his underpants and pants. There are more scars on his leg, but I don’t linger there. For now, I’m concentrating on adjusting the clothes over his cock. He’s still semihard. The velvet feel of his warm skin is pleasantly erotic. He catches my hand and moves it away, finishing the task of zipping his pants up himself. He plants a warm, wet kiss on my mouth and pushes me down to the mattress with a hand wrapped around my neck. For a second he stays like that, watching me, and then he lets go.

  “Not yet,” he says, as if to himself. “Good night, Valentina.” Then, like last night, he’s gone.

  * * *

  It’s ten when I go up to Gabriel’s room to make his bed. By now, he’d have finished his morning workout and shower. He’d be working in his study. As I’m pulling the sheets over the mattress, the bathroom door opens, and he steps out with a towel tied around his waist, his hair wet and droplets running down his chest.

  I gulp and almost choke on my saliva. Heat gathers in my underwear as my imagination completes the picture hidden under the towel. A slow smile spreads over his face. He twists his head, hiding the scars from me, and walks to the dressing room.

  “Shall I make the bed?” I ask in a small voice.

  He turns to watch me, letting his eyes slide over my dress, making me feel naked. “Unless you have other ideas?”

  His smile broadens as a flush heats my cheeks.

  I clear my throat. “I meant I could come back later.”

  He drops the towel, flashing me with a full frontal of his glorious, naked body.

  “There’s nothing you haven’t seen,” he says, “so don’t let me keep you from your work.”

  He’s wrong. The white, embossed line running diagonally across his knee is new to me. So is the circular mark surrounded by finer lines, like a spider’s web, on his foot. He looks like a perfect Frankenstein specimen, angrily stitched together and magnificently hard. There’s not an inch of him that’s not one hundred percent man, in every right and every wrong way possible.

  For an utterly embarrassing moment, I’m frozen to the spot, staring at him like an idiot. It’s Gabriel who breaks the spell by walking to a rack of shirts. His ass looks like it’s chiseled from marble.

  My breath flutters as I force my eyes away and continue the task of making his bed. All the while, I’m aware of him. He pulls on a white shirt and buttons it up. Next follow briefs, black slacks, and silver tie. He sits down on a stool to pull on socks and expensive looking shoes. He opens a drawer and selects a pair of cufflinks, which he fits without difficulty.

  I’ve never watched a man’s grooming. There’s something intimate about it. It’s like a privilege he’s given me, allowing me to watch. All dressed up, he leaves the room, trailing his palm over my backside on his way out. The caress is so light, maybe I imagined it. Alone, with no one to see, I fluff out his pillow and push my face into it. I inhale his scent, remembering the taste of him in my mouth. What is it like to be a woman from his world, treasured and respected, and not a maid or sex toy? We’re worlds apart, and our worlds don’t mix.

  * * *

  For the remainder of the day, I keep a watchful eye on Oscar. His frequent urination stops in the late afternoon. It’s safe to let him out of my room. Besides, he can’t stay here all weekend when I leave.

  Gabriel is out when my weekly shift comes to an end. I’m nervous to leave the grounds even if Magda was clear on the rules, but I’m also anxious to see Charlie and Kris. I shove a change of clothes and the container of food remains into a grocery bag and check that Oscar has enough food before I go. Outside, I find Rhett on the porch.

  “Hi.” I clutch the bag in my hands. “I’m off until Monday.”

  “I know.”

  “I’ll need the new key to my flat.”

  “You’re going back there?”

  “I need to tie up loose ends.”

  “Wait here.” He disappears inside and exits a short while later with a set of keys he places in my hand. “The big one’s for the main lock, and the two small ones for the top and bottom deadlocks.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Are you going there now?”

  “Probably tomorrow. I’m first going to see my brother.” I also want to visit Puff’s grave.

  “Where did you bury Puff?”

  “You don’t want to know.”

  “I want to put flowers on his grave.”

  “You don’t want to put shit out there. In fact, I’m not sure you should go anywhere near that neighborhood.”

  From the look he gives me, I’m scared he’s going to prevent me from leaving, so I say quickly, “See you Monday.”

  He doesn’t reply, but doesn’t stop me either. When he presses a code on his phone that opens the gate, I rush through with relief. There are no public busses in this area, but if I walk far enough, I’ll eventually hit the off-ramp to the highway where I can catch a minivan taxi. I flag one down after a fifty-minute walk. I’m the only white girl in the van and receive nasty remarks about the color of
my skin from the other passengers, but the driver is kind and lets me sit up front until he drops me off in Orange Grove.

  A Jewish community mostly populates the area because of the synagogue. In Rocky Street, I pause to feed the food remains to the street dogs before hurrying the last two blocks to Kris’ house. I enter through the adjoining clinic. A few clients are waiting in the reception area. Kris runs an honest to God good practice for the love of it. She charges way less than what she should, and I know she treats a lot of animals for free when the clients can’t afford the medicine or consultations. She barely makes ends meet, and I feel bad for saddling her with my problems, but I have no one else.

  There’s no assistant. She hasn’t replaced me yet. I knock on the consultation room door and push it open.

  Kris lifts her gaze from a Yorkshire Terrier and shoots me a smile. “Get me a vaccine shot while you’re here, will you?”

  I scrub my hands in the basin and enter the small backroom where she keeps the vaccines.

  She’s in over her head, so I stick around and help out where I can.

  After seven, she pats my shoulder and jerks her head toward the door. “Go on. Charlie’s in the house. I know you’re anxious to see him.”

  “Thank you.” I offer her a grateful smile and hurry through the back to the house.

  Charlie sits in front of the television in the lounge, wearing a Superman T-shirt and shorts, his fringe falling into his eyes.

  When he sees me, his eyes light up. “Va–Val!”

  He jumps up and grabs me into a hug, almost crushing my ribs. Sometimes, he forgets his strength.

  “Hey.” I brush the hair from his face. “How are you? Is Kris taking good care of you?”

  “Loo–look.” He points at a stack of comic books on the coffee table. “Kri–Kris gave me money to ex–exchange th–them.”

  “That’s great,” I say, even if I worry. The comic store is across the road. Charlie has to cross a very busy street to get there. “Have you eaten?”

  “Kris is a good coo–cook. She’s making ma–macaroni and chee–cheese to–tonight.”