Touched

by Sabre Rose

  “Come,” he pleaded, and with an urgent thrust he grunted and stayed deep inside, as my body obeyed his request and I shuddered. His eyes stayed glued to my face, his body rigid as wave after wave of pleasure rippled through me and I clenched against him. When I finally began to breathe again, his release came quickly. He cried out with one final thrust and his hardness pulsated inside. He stayed still, eyes closed until the last ounce of him was done. Slowly, he pulled out and flopped down beside me, his arm flung over my chest.

  He grinned lazily, and the side of his mouth twitched. “That wasn’t so bad now, was it?”

  I couldn’t help but laugh and slid out from under his arm, standing to reach into my drawers and pull out a night shirt to slip over my head. Gabe reached for his boxers and pulled them on, having discarded the used rubber. I tried to read the tattooed ink running down his left side but his arm was in the way.

  “Want that glass of wine now?” he asked.

  I moved toward the doorway but he stopped me, grabbing my arm and planting a soft kiss on my shoulder. “I’ll get it. You stay here.”

  I flicked back the covers on the bed and hopped in. Moments later, Gabe returned, bottle in hand.

  “Do we really need the glasses?” he asked as he moved to the other side of the bed and climbed in. I watched him, coveting every inch as he pressed close to my side. Even though I had just had him, I wanted him again. He lifted the bottle and took a large gulp before handing it to me.

  “Cheers,” I said and tipped the bottle back.

  “Easy there, tiger. We don’t want a repeat of last night.”

  “Hey! I’ll have you know that was after numerous bottles of wine, not one sip.”

  “I wouldn’t call that a sip.” He took the bottle and brought it to his lips, tilting it slightly. “That was a sip.”

  “That’s what I did.”

  Gabe rolled his eyes. “Sure it was.” He took another swig of the bottle and winked at me.

  “What does it say?” I took the bottle from him and took a polite sip.

  “What?”

  I nodded to his side. “Your tattoo.”

  He rolled over and tossed the covers off, exposing the flesh under his arm. I put the bottle down on the bedside cabinet and studied the words. They were in a thick, old fashioned calligraphy and a little hard to decipher.

  “Don’t die wondering,” Gabe said. “It was Clark’s favourite saying.”

  “So Clark, the one that helped out after the earthquake, he was the one that died?”

  Gabe nodded. “He had just come home from university and he and Dad got into this big argument. It was really late at night, and despite the fact that he had not long arrived, he took off and drove back. He never made it though.”

  “So the last thing he did was fight with your dad? That’s got to be tough on him.”

  “On Dad? He’s a prick. He probably blames Clark. Clark wanted to quit studying law and go overseas to help with some charity thing. You know, save the kids, clean the water, build a house, something goody-good like that. He hadn’t told Dad yet, but when he got home, Dad had already opened some letter saying he had been accepted into the programme. Dad blew his lid and Clark took off.”

  I reached over and traced over the ink with the tip of my finger. The skin beneath was raised and it tightened under my touch. Goose bumps dotted his skin. Gabe reached out and pulled me to him.

  “Must have been horrible,” I said as he wrapped his arms around my waist and I buried my head into his chest. His smell was heavenly.

  “I haven’t lived at home since. I pretty much spent the next six months drunk and living on people’s couches. Then one day I woke up and remembered Clark saying to me, ‘don’t die wondering’. It was like one of those things in movies where people suddenly realise something they should have known all along.”

  “An epiphany?”

  “Yeah, that’s the one. Anyway, I got the tattoo, took off overseas and the rest is history.”

  “Are things okay with your dad now?”

  The stubble on his chin rubbed against my scalp as he shook his head. Within minutes, his heavy breathing told me he was asleep.

  12

  LAUREN

  I woke entangled in Gabe’s embrace. I stirred and found him watching me, his eyes dark and burning. Gently, I ran my finger over the swell of his chest, tracing each ridge of his stomach and along the line of his boxers. Gabe sucked in his breath as I explored before letting it out with a low groan.

  His groans were glorious. I had never heard such a delightful sound. And, when I ran my hands over the tops of his thighs, he moaned so quietly I strained to hear it. Pulling the covers back, I marvelled at his body. It was so tight, so firm, but at the same time so soft and smooth. I wanted to touch every inch.

  Lifting myself off the bed, I rose and hooked my leg over him until I was sitting above him, feeling the pressure of him rise against the nakedness beneath my shirt. He locked eyes with me, his gaze scorched with desire, and I bent down to kiss him. He rose to meet me, urgent to embrace, but I pushed him back down onto the bed. I wanted to relish the moment, take time discovering his body. It was too new, too foreign not to explore.

  I kissed him fully and he responded passionately and deeply, straining against where I had his hands pinned against his sides. Placing a trail of kisses across his skin from his jaw line down his neck and over his chest, he leaned his head back into the pillow and sighed loudly. I kissed each nipple and he rose up on his elbows to watch. But I pushed him back down and continued to kiss him, ignoring his desperate groans of frustration. They turned more urgent when I kissed the soft flesh between the band of his boxers and his belly button. Slowly, I ran my tongue all the way up his torso, to the little dip between his collarbone. He reached up and gripped my arms, digging his fingers into my flesh.

  “Want me to stop?” I asked.

  “No.” It came out a guttural whimper.

  I pressed my breasts, hidden beneath the thin material of my shirt, to the naked flesh of his chest and kissed him fully on the mouth again. Cupping my face, he kissed me fervently, and clung to me as I pulled away.

  “My god, let me have you,” he hissed between breaths.

  I shook my head and grinned seductively as I kissed my way down his chest and over the ridges of his hard stomach. His skin quivered when I slid lower down and kissed the line of the muscle that led to his pelvis and dipped under his boxers. Lifting his head off the pillow, he propped himself up on his elbows, eyes burning with hunger as he watched. I tugged on his boxers and pulled them down until they popped over his erection. As I kissed the soft flesh of his inner thigh, drawing closer and closer but never satisfying, he closed his eyes and rolled his head back, letting out a tortured and ragged breath.

  When I took the tip of him in my mouth he tensed. I pushed deeper, feeling bold and daring, something I hadn’t felt in years.

  “Careful,” he said. “I won’t be able to handle that and I need to be inside you.”

  I climbed my way back up his body and couldn’t help smiling at the way he watched me. His pupils were wide, his expression dark. His desire was extremely obvious. And I drowned in it.

  “Let me get a rubber.” Frantically, he searched through the pockets of his jeans lying on the floor and slipped on the protection. I sunk onto him and he let out something guttural, almost animalistic. He grabbed for the hem of my shirt but I shook my head and held his wrists in place so he couldn’t lift my top.

  “I want to see you,” he groaned.

  I moved slowly, distracting him by grinding back and forth and feeling every inch of him inside me. His hands moved up and over my hips until they found the soft flesh of my breasts. He started to take control of our movements, his hands falling to my hips as he dug in his fingers. I held onto his shoulders as he rolled us over and hovered over me.

  “God, you’re sexy,” he breathed.

  Then he was inside me again. Slower this time, rocki
ng back and forth, sucking on my neck and nuzzling into my breasts under the shirt. We came together and he slumped over me.

  “Wow,” he breathed in my ear. He stayed pressed heavily on me until I nudged him with my shoulder. “Sorry,” he rolled over onto his back. “Wow,” he said again.

  I climbed out from beneath the covers and walked into the ensuite. When I came back Gabe had rolled onto his stomach, his arms spread wide over the bed. He looked glorious. He grinned and lifted the covers back, patting the space beside him. Once I climbed in, he snuggled against me, sighing deeply.

  I looked over at the clock. It was late and I was due in at work in a couple of hours. I sighed. Work seemed like another world from where I was.

  “What’s the matter?” he mumbled, his words slurred with relaxation.

  “Work.”

  “Do you have to go in soon?”

  “Yeah.”

  Gabe untangled himself from me and hopped out of the bed. “Guess that’s my cue.”

  “You don’t have to leave now. You can stay a little longer if you like.”

  Gabe shook his head as he pulled on his jeans. I watched him from the cover of the bed, once again marvelling at the design of him. He smiled but there was something awkward about it.

  “You coming into work later?” I said, suddenly feeling nervous and pulling the covers close to my chest.

  Gabe shook his head as he pulled on his t-shirt. “Day off.” He bent over the bed and placed a chaste kiss on my cheek. “Thanks for last night.”

  I smiled. What was I supposed to say? ‘You’re welcome?’ ‘Thank you, too?’

  “And this morning,” Gabe added. He hovered at the door. “Catch you later?”

  “Later,” I replied and then he was gone.

  * * *

  I didn’t hear from Gabe for the rest of the day. That was normal though, wasn’t it? I considered calling him but I didn’t want to seem needy or desperate or too keen.

  When Peta said he called in sick for his shift the following day, I began to worry. I had that dread in the pit of my stomach again. I began to replay our time together over and over in my head but each time I did, it seemed less and less romantic and more like I was too eager. I could just imagine him retelling the tale to his friends, laughing and making fun. ‘You should have seen her. She was all over me.’

  I barely slept, not being able to get rid of the weight on my chest and the sickness in the pit of my stomach. I felt so foolish, so dumb. Again. Everything I had worried about had come true.

  Peta noticed something was wrong at work but I just lied and said I was coming down with something. “Perhaps it’s the same thing Gabe has,” I offered.

  She shook her head. “Something strange is going on with him. He came in this morning and said he needed a couple of days off to, ‘sort some shit’, as he put it. And then he asked for an advance on his pay. Strange boy.”

  I swallowed the lump at the back of my throat. He was avoiding me, plain and simple. I guess he was hoping that if he gave me enough space, I would see our time for what it was. Nothing but a tumble in the sheets. Nothing more than one of the many. Nothing more than an amusement.

  He was a challenge which I had failed miserably.

  13

  GABE

  I was an arsehole.

  I was every name I had ever been called and worse. I didn’t expect to feel so guilty. The lead up was a game, a challenge, but when it was all said and done, I felt guilty as hell. She didn’t deserve to be treated that way.

  It didn’t hit me until I woke the next morning. It took me a few moments to figure out where I was, as I usually always woke up in my own bed. Regardless if I had shared a bed, a couch, or the backseat of a car with someone earlier, I always dusted myself off and returned home. I don’t know what was different that made me stay. I didn’t even decide to spend the night, I just woke up there. There was something so satisfying, so rewarding about having sex with Lauren, that I must have fallen asleep.

  When I woke, her body was entangled in mine and the feel of her breasts, so soft, so full, pressed against my skin, meant I instantly got a hard on. I didn’t realise she was awake until she started running her fingers over my chest. I couldn’t ever remember being so hard. It didn’t normally work like this. Usually, I woke with a hangover and alone, having had a drunken and sloppy fuck the night before, well, at least on my end. I'd never had this. I tried to stay still, tried to force myself to resist as she ran the tips of her fingers over my flesh, but in the end, it was simply too much and the urge to fuck her won.

  As I said, I was an arsehole. I should have never taken that stupid bet. I should have never gone near her.

  I couldn’t face her. One look at me and what I had done would be written all over my face. Instead, being the coward that I was, I called in sick and then begged for an advance on my wages. Technically, I had won the bet. I just wished I hadn’t. Mark was surprised when I handed him the money. I didn’t offer any explanation, just shoved it in his hand and walked off.

  Three days later and I still hadn’t faced her. I spent my time playing x-box in my room and beating the shit out of the boxing bag. I had callouses on my knuckles to prove it.

  She called once. I cursed myself for not answering but she deserved so much better than a jerk like me. The message she left was casual but forced. She had heard I was sick and was just checking to make sure I was okay. I never called her back. And she never tried again.

  My flatmates assumed I was pissed because I didn’t score, but I knew Drew, at least, suspected there was more to it. He usually did.

  Sleeping with her had changed things for me. I couldn’t think about that night, or rather, the next morning, without getting aroused. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that she was the first person in recent history I could remember making love to when I wasn’t shit-faced.

  Or, maybe it was the fact that I had just referred to it as making love.

  Whatever it was, I needed to stay away. I knew how these things worked. Even if I ignored the guilt I felt, she would find out eventually. Mark would open his trap or Drew or Stefan would blurt it out one drunken night. And then she would look at me with those lonely eyes and I wouldn’t be able to stand it. Of course, I would have to face her eventually, but I would prefer it if she thought of me as a general arsehole rather than a specific one.

  Pulling myself up from my bed, I walked into the lounge. Drew was there, watching some crap on TV.

  “Hey man,” he said as I passed.

  I grunted and reached for the bottle of bourbon on the bench. The one in my room was empty, not that it had done its job. Getting drunk was supposed to make me forget what a jerk I was, not make me think about it more.

  “So, everything’s good?” Drew turned down the volume a couple of notches. He obviously thought we were going to talk.

  “Yep,” I replied gruffly and flopped down on the bean bag. I lifted the bottle and took a long drink.

  “Nothing you want to talk about?”

  I glared at him and took another swig. “Nope.”

  “Fine.” Drew nodded and turned the volume back up. We sat and watched the investigation of some dude who chopped up people for fun. I couldn’t understand why people watched that shit. Zombies, sure, but not real stuff. Not reality. Then, the volume turned back down and I looked over to Drew, preparing for another question.

  “What?” I said when he said nothing.

  “So you lost?”

  “Lost what?” Then, it dawned on me. “The bet? Yeah, I lost.”

  “And you’re dark about it.”

  “I’m not dark because I lost the fucking bet.” I lifted the bottle to my mouth. “Seriously? You think I’d be sore about that?”

  “Well, something’s eating at you. What did you expect me to think?”

  “I’d expect you not to assume I was so fucking shallow.” I was highly pissed off. Blood pulsed through my veins. I needed to use the boxing bag again
.

  “Sorry, man. Just thought you might want to talk about it.”

  I ran my hand through my hair and looked at him. The volume went down some more. “It didn’t go down how you think.”

  Drew didn’t say anything. He just lifted his beer and drank.

  “I won,” I snapped.

  “You fucked her?”

  “I wooed her.”

  “You’re really going with that?”

  “Whatever. The point is, I won the bet. I just didn’t want Mark knowing.”

  Drew shook his head. “I don’t get it.”

  “I won and it made me feel like shit. I just don’t want her to find out and hate me, okay?”

  “So you’re planning on ‘wooing’ her again?”

  “No,” I scoffed. Why couldn’t he understand? I just needed to not be hated by her. I wanted her to smile when she saw me, not scowl. “I just feel guilty or something. I shouldn’t have done it. It was stupid.”

  “You like her,” Drew said, smirking.

  I took another swig of bourbon. I guess I liked being around her. It felt good. I liked watching her as she talked. Her face was so expressive, so animated and when she laughed she threw her head back and laughed properly, not all fake and giggly or hiding behind her hair. And it wasn’t just when she was doing the talking, either. When I spoke, she looked at me as though I was the only person that mattered. When I was around her, I felt like she saw me in a different way than other people did.

  “Shit,” I said and stared at Drew. “I think I do.” Somewhere along the line, things had changed. I was just too fucking stupid to see it. Now I just had to hope she would forgive my stupidity.