2005
My new book was launched a week ago. My fourth in a series of five. The publisher released one every six months. I had one more to go, but I didn't have to think about it, well not for another day or two. For now, my work was done.
The publisher had what it wanted, the ink was dry on all the contracts, and much like its predecessors, book number four shot to the number one slot in a day and a half after its release.
Clarice, my most beautiful and strange agent, invited me for a celebratory lunch. She always celebrated everything. She celebrated the first time a publisher asked to read more, and when a fifth one actually picked it up. When it went to number 10 in the bestselling list and then as it crept to number one. She wanted to celebrate when my contract was bought out by a bigger publishing house and when we signed a future six-book deal.
There were so many celebrations with her. It was amazing and exhausting. Amazing my liver still functioned that is. Her belief in me was almost as bottomless as Grish’s, and her appetite for alcohol, much the same.
In the last year, I ditched her a lot. I told her I had to write, and I did. I probably didn’t have to write the first two books at once, but they just poured out of me like a torrent, like a delicious endless dream that came true on paper, and everywhere else.
But this time I wasn’t getting away, so when she called, I went out. We laughed, a lot which was a given when you mix Clarice with alcohol. We ate and joked and she was already asking about a new series.
I hadn’t talked to Gabriel about anything new yet. Would there be anything new? Would there be more of Gabriel? Or would I have to release him? The thought made me uneasy and so I told her I was still planning, she let it go easily enough. She just got a very big payday.
When I arrived back at my building, a car was parked in my parking spot. Well, that’s not entirely true. Only half a car was in my parking spot. A stunning, slick, charcoal Maserati parked in its own parking spot, yet it went over the white line which meant the driver I paid to get me home, could not squeeze my Honda into it. I frowned and huffed. I had no time for this shit. It was interfering with my good mood.
I called up to the front desk and explained the problem, requesting they call the tenant down to move his car. A few minutes later they called back explaining he was not picking up his phone.
It took my driver twenty minutes to find a parking spot which charged by the hour. I stormed through the lobby and up to my 37th floor. My foot thumped the carpet on the elevator as I watched the lights take their time pushing up. I burst through the door barely waiting for it to open, and marched to the only other door on the floor. Just two.
I pounded on the door. I don’t know how long I pounded for, but after a while when the pain began to set in, I heard a man’s voice echo into the apartment.
“I’m coming.” It was angry but not urgent.
The door swung open and I swallowed all the words that were about to fly from my mouth.
The man filled the doorway with his broad shoulders and muscular upper body. His body still peppered with water droplets that were casually falling from the tips of his wet black hair.
He looked like a tiger that had just been swimming and interrupted during a hunt. The towel hung around the narrow V of his hips and for a second all I wanted to be was that towel.
“How did you get up here?”
He had a slight accent and his lip curled in a scowl; his icy blue eyes frozen.
“I live here.” I could smell the alcohol from my breath and wished I had gotten a mint.
He ran a hand through his dripping hair and brushed his wet hand on the back of his towel. I pried my eyes away from his hand and back to his eyes. “You have the wrong apartment.” He growled something in a different language. It sounded both guttural and melodic, then tried to close his door.
I stuck my foot in the way and pushed it open unsuccessfully against his much bigger body. “Hey. Don’t you close your door in my face.”
“Listen here lady,” he opened the door wide again and took a step toward me, closing the distance, so that I had to take a backwards step into the hallway. I could smell his shampoo and soap, he smelled like a place I could get lost in. “This isn’t your apartment, you’re obviously drunk and confused, and I was in the middle of something.”
I wondered if that something was a someone, then pushed the thought from my head.
“You’re in my parking spot.” I crossed my arms and stood my ground.
“What?”
“Your car. You parked it across the line and I can’t get my car in. Please go and move it.”
His mouth curved into a smile. A beautiful delicious smile that I hated. His oh so thick lips that seemed to have been carved out by an artist were mocking me.
“This is why you are howling at my door like an animal?” Yup, definitely a Scandinavian accent.
“Excuse me -” I huffed, but he interrupted me.
“What is the problem? Did you park your car?”
“Yes? But -”
“And is it safe?”
“Yes, but -”
“So why are you here knocking on my door?”
“Because it’s my parking spot and now my car is on the street in a paid parking area.”
“If you can afford to live here you can afford to pay, no?”
I think I may have actually growled and I saw his eyes twinkle, that bastard. “That’s not the point -”
He interrupted me again, “What kind of car is it?”
“It’s a Honda…”
Before I could finish my sentence his mouth split into a full grin, he was actually laughing at me. “It will be fine, no one steals those.”
With that, he retreated backwards and slammed the door in my face.
I stood there stunned, waiting for the vapour of his aftershave and shampoo to evaporate and for the rage to dissipate slightly so I could think.
I stormed into my apartment. Closed my eyes and took a long breath. When I opened them, I spotted Gabe standing by the window looking down onto the city.
“Lunch was that good then?”
“It wasn’t lunch.” I snapped at him and he was by my side in seconds.
“What is it?”
“Our neighbour is a dick.”
Gabe smiled. He liked it when I hated other men. “What happened?”
I told him. He got that look in his eye. That angry brooding look, his shoulders squared and his back straightened. “Do you want me to take care of him?”
“No,” I huffed.
“Do you want me to take care of you?”
“I’m not in any kind of mood.” I pushed by him, but he grabbed my wrist pulling me back to him. I pushed against him but he pulled me closer holding my body against his, locking me with his strong hold. He slipped his hand under my shirt and pushed the bra up. His fingers found my nipple. And he pinched ever so softly.
“Gabriel –”
He cut me off with another pinch. He pulled and tugged, swirling it between his soft fingers. Pushing his hips into mine, I could feel him growing. I could feel my need growing.
“Gabe…” his mouth was on mine, thundering, possessing, soothing.
He let me go and I pushed away from him. He stalked towards me, the couch halting my escape. He wound his hands around my waist and spun me around, one hand on the small of my back. Pushing me over the couch. My voice muffled by the soft cushions.
He pulled my underwear off and pushed my knees apart. His hard cock grinding against me, teasing me, soaking me, stroking along, languidly. “Gabriel…” his name was muffled as I tried to lift my head to him. He pushed me down and continued his slow torture. The need for him to fill me growing. My legs began to shake, I reached for his hand but he cupped it between his fingers and held it on my back. I was helpless against his powerful body. And all I wanted was that he take me, sate me, fuck me.
I ground my hips against him, pushing needing wanting.
He s
topped moving and backed away. The tingling between my legs a throb, an ache, a need.
He bent over me, his breath at my ear. “You will not move, or you will not cum,” he whispered it and bit my shoulder. I moaned, a frustrated desperate thing.
He waited.
I froze.
I anchored my feet into the ground and surrendered myself to him.
He stood behind me, his heat radiating into me. His hand pressing mine into my back. His hold tightening.
A reminder.
He pushed my legs further apart with his feet, and once again began his dance. His cock sliding along, leisurely, deliberately tormenting, delighting, igniting.
I was a melting puddle of need and desire. I could beg. He wanted me to beg. I bit the pillow, sucking in breath.
“Do you want me?” his voice scratched in his throat.
“Yes.”
He continued his slow torture.
“Do you need me?”
“Yes, I need you so much.” I fought the urge to move, to grate, to pulse.
He stroked me again, my edge so near, so far.
“Do you love me?”
He didn’t wait for the answer.
There was none.
Gabriel slipped inside me, his hardness filling me. His body glued to mine as he moved, his hips rocking behind me, thrusting, pushing, breathless, harder, faster.
Our bodies slammed together, skin slapped skin. His hand slipped between my legs, swirling, moving, gliding.
It was my undoing. I unravelled like a piece of string against him, as he pumped faster and faster into me. His hands biting into my skin, his breath hot and heavy on my shoulders. He grunted, like an animal, wild ferocious, dangerous and with two final jerks he stiffened, then his body relaxed, sagging against mine, soaked and slippery. He pulled out of me and left the room leaving me ruined against the couch, possessed, claimed, reminded.
During dinner, Gabriel looked up at me. “You shouldn’t let him get away with making you park the car in the street.”
“Don’t worry, I have no intention of letting him get away with anything.” A smile spread across his face like sunlight across a dark sky, beautiful and golden.
I winked at him and set my alarm clock for 5 a.m.
“I can’t believe I’m up this early.”
“When you write it’s not even bedtime yet.”
I shrugged, Gabriel was right. Often, I would lose entire nights submerged in my writing, lost in his eyes and body as I knew my readers would be. Any time I wasn’t, I knew the material wasn’t any good.
I tugged at my jumper trying to suck whatever warmth was available and slipped into my car. The street was empty and dark. The engine’s roar seemed to echo and expand across the whole street. The silence was sliced by my acceleration. I pulled away from the curb into the parking structure of my building. The tyres screeched as I rounded corners going deeper into the ground.
I stopped in front of my parking space. The asshole from 37B had all afternoon and evening and in fact all night to move his car. He didn’t. Not even a fraction. Well, fuck him.
I parked the car in front of both spaces sealing his exit and switched off my engine.
I knew it would end up with an inevitable call from the lobby and a fine from the body corporate but I just didn’t care. Some things were worth paying for. Revenge of assholes was one such thing.
I left the car and made my way to the elevator. I sauntered back into my apartment and returned to bed. The duvet still having an echo of heat. I fell asleep grinning.
It was 6.45 a.m. when I registered the banging on the door. I pried my eyes open and wondered what sort of people were up at that ungodly time of day. Of course, then I remembered. I could feel my mouth stretching in a satisfied grin. I couldn’t wait to see those blue eyes.
I shook away the thought. What I should have thought is that I couldn’t wait to see those angry blue eyes and scowling face. I clucked my tongue in satisfaction and counted to twenty before I went to the door.
As I opened it, I was confronted with a storm. A force of nature so beautiful, so powerful, completely deadly.
37B stood above me, a menacing tower of beauty. He wore a navy suit that forced his eyes to work harder to be noticed. And so they did. They were piercing and bright, like shimmering pools. His strong jaw was freshly shaved, his spicy aftershave wafting into my apartment uninvited. His jaw was clenched. His nostrils flared as his tirade began.
“You are blocking my car lady.” His accent was thick and sticky on his tongue.
“Your car? This is why you are howling at my door like an animal?” I kept my cool, but all I wanted was to pat myself on the back.
“What did you say to me?” he was like a volcano, about to erupt. I could feel the hot anger as it spilt from him.
My body coiled. Suddenly all it wanted was to curl up and hide while watching the show from afar. I anchored my legs and stood my ground. “What is the problem with your car?”
“You know what it is.”
“Do I?”
He clenched his jaw. “You are blocking me; I can’t go to work,” he hissed at me
“So, take a taxi.”
“Why would I do that when I have a car?”
“Will a taxi get you to work?”
“Yes, but – ”
I cut him off, “Is it safe?”
“Yes -” His hands were balled into fists by his side, the knuckles white. I held my ground.
“So why are you here knocking on my door?”
“Because I need to get to work and I don’t want to take a taxi when I can take my car.”
“Well seems to me you might be in a bit of a pickle then.” I gave him a nod and tried to close the door in his face. Seemed fitting.
A large paw held the door and forced it open against me. He didn’t step inside, but his eyes flashed around the entryway and took in my appearance. I tightened my sleeping robe against me realising I hadn’t brushed my hair or caked my face with anything. I was au naturel with all the trimmings, bad breath and morning hair.
Shit.
“I think you look fantastic,” Gabriel whispered in my ear.
“Thanks.”
“Who are you talking to?” 37B’s eyes flashed with white smouldering heat.
Shit, did I just talk to Gabriel out loud?
“No one.” I shook my head.
“No one?” I could hear the sulk in Gabriel’s voice, the hurt, the anger. I would have to deal with him later.
“Listen here, Lady – ”
“Jane.”
“What?” the interruption irritated him.
“My name is Jane, not lady.”
“Whatever. When are you planning to leave for work?”
“I am at work.” I folded my arms around my chest and cocked my head. I was going to show him.
“When will you move your car?”
I shrugged. “Later I guess.”
“But I need to go to work now.” It was a roar, the exploding volcano shuddering the earth, covering all in its path with molten lava and ash; hot, beautiful, deadly.
I held on to the door finding the last of my courage. “Well, if you can afford to live here you can afford a taxi, no?”
Without thinking or waiting for further response I slammed the door in his face.
I leaned against it, my body sagging. Then I pushed off and high fived myself. I knew the phone would ring shortly. The guys at reception would have to call a tow truck, there would be penalties and a fine. But I didn’t care. Watching that eruption was worth every cent, and every word written acquiring those cents.
I waited all morning for the phone to ring.
It didn’t.
2003
Work was a drainer. It paid well, but it was killing me slowly. It wasn’t the hours, or the men who found it hard to keep their hands off my ass and their money in their pockets. It was Leon. The man was making my life a misery.
He would come dow
n almost every night and his eyes wouldn’t leave my body, my face, my every move. I could feel the intensity of his eyes even as I cleared glasses from outside. The heat of them bore holes into my back, my front, my everywhere, sending shivers and tingles straight between my legs. I was wading in a pool of my own wetness for months.
I would watch his thick lips move as he talked to everyone but me. His strong hands clutch a bar stool or the lip of the bar. I could see his taut muscles as he shifted on a chair or stalked around the room, following me with those hooded, smoky eyes.
But most of all I could feel his reaction to me. How much he wanted me. Probably as much as I wanted him. I didn't know if we could ever have a relationship, but there was animal lust and desire that would burn cities. I could imagine sitting on his face and melting into him, his skin becoming my own as he thrust his cock into me, his fingers exploring, touching, gliding, his mouth wet, hungry, foul.
He would often visit me at the dishwasher. He would stand and let my ass swipe against his erection. Like he was punishing himself, me. It was all he would allow. I had tried just once to reach for him but he flinched away.
He bent down over me and inhaled, like a predator sniffing its meal. I could hear the purr that emanated from his throat, his hands balled into fists. “I don’t want to fire you.” It was tender and sweet. “You make me too much money,” he added, his cold demeanour back. He straightened and walked away from me. He didn’t come back to the dishwasher for a month after that. But his damn eyes were always there, everywhere I looked.
The Hot Bird had a birthday tradition. At the strike of ten, the girls would line up and sing the birthday girl her happy birthday song and present her with a Flaming Finch. A concoction of various alcohols designed to make your heart beat faster and your body want dirty things. When I asked Sammy about it, she said Leon insisted on ensuring every man in the house knew it was the birthday girl’s special day. For one, everyone should be the centre of attention for one day a year but more importantly, he wanted all his customers to know, so they would tip better and the birthday girl could go out and buy herself what she deserved.
Guarding Gabriel Page 5