by Bethany-Kris
It was.
Even the street seemed like it was lights out for everyone around. There wasn’t even a jogger coming down the street, or someone to walk a dog. That was uncommon for a city. Someone was always around, it seemed.
Gabbie shrugged one delicate shoulder under the jacket Michel had offered for her to take when it seemed like it might be getting cold. “Da rents this place for me—closer to the college. I wanted to be in a dorm, but he decided differently.”
He didn’t miss the bitterness in her words. His parents hadn’t exactly decided where he was going to live, but his mother had been quick to veto every apartment. The dorms were no-go for Michel from the jump because he liked his space. Eventually, he settled on a bungalow tucked away between the city park, and a row of brownstones.
Gesturing at her door, he said, “So, what happens now?”
She arched a brow. “I thought that was obvious.”
Michel grinned, letting his tongue peek out to touch the corner of his upper lip. “I never assume, Gabbie. You could have changed your mind between the club and here. It’s better to ask.”
“Well, I haven’t changed my mind.”
“Oh?”
Look. There was his cock again.
Ready to go.
“Good,” Michel murmured, shifting so that his shoulder rested against the brick as he looked down at her. “Then, I suggest you get the door unlocked, so we can get off your front steps. Otherwise, I can’t be held responsible for what happens out here where anyone can see after watching the way your ass looks in that dress.”
She drew in a quick breath. He didn’t miss the way her pupils blew wide, either. Those fingers of hers curved around the keys in her hand, making them jangle in the darkness. He wouldn’t pretend like that didn’t have his cock perking all over again, straining against the line of his zipper to remind him he hadn’t gotten what he wanted yet.
Which was to be buried balls deep in this woman.
Soon.
Michel simply winked, and nodded at the door again. “Whenever you’re ready.”
Gabbie turned to the door with the key already ready to slide in the lock. “You sound confident.”
“That your neighbors are going to know my name by the time I’m done with you here? Probably.”
Her first step inside the brownstone nearly missed the ledge leading into the house from his statement as she pushed open the door, but Michel was quick to catch her with one arm sliding around her waist. He took that chance to press a kiss against the back of her neck, too, as he dragged her closer to his chest at the same time. She fit into the fold of his body perfectly as he learned forward.
The first taste of her skin wasn’t nearly enough for him, either. Gabbie’s head fell to his shoulder as he slammed the door shut behind them, and they moved further into the hallway. She dropped her clutch, and his bag went with it. The fucking jacket he’d given her to cover up with was in the way, and all that served to do was send a shot of frustration racing through his gut.
He wanted more.
Another taste.
And the jacket was stopping him.
Gabbie sighed a happy sound when Michel dragged the jacket down her arms roughly, not caring a bit that he’d probably wrinkled the blazer something terrible when it fell to the floor. He had other things to think about now. Like all the freckles dotting the line of her shoulder, and disappearing down her throat to the deep V neckline of her dress. There were too many, and he couldn’t possibly kiss them all, but fuck him if he wasn’t going to try.
He started with her shoulders, his tongue striking out to get a taste of her skin with every kiss he dotted along her body. A shiver raced through Gabbie when his hands drifted over the shimmery, slinky dress. He wanted to feel her curves—find where his hands fit, and where she liked to be touched the very most.
Sliding his hands lower as his teeth grazed the racing pulse point on her throat, he asked, “Are you wet for me already?”
Gabbie let out a quiet sound. “You should definitely find out.”
He agreed.
Letting his hands rove down over the hemline of the dress, he pulled the fabric up as his palms slid higher. There was no mistaking the way her legs trembled the closer his fingers drifted toward the apex of her thighs.
That heaven.
He bet it would taste like that, too.
Heaven, but sin.
Now, he just wanted to know if his theory was correct. But first … His knuckles skimmed over the hood of her sex, the lace-trimmed cotton of her panties soft against his skin. The next stroke went a little lower, right over top of her clit. Her hips jerked a bit from the touch, and he grinned against her skin.
“Sensitive,” he told her. “This is going to be fun for you, then.”
“I feckin’ hope so.”
Michel laughed, dark and husky. His throat just felt thick, now, because he felt like he’d been playing with her for too long. Teasing, and testing the waters just to see … and now he wanted something more.
A lot more.
“Where is your bedroom?”
“Upstairs,” Gabbie murmured.
“Undress as you go.”
He loved that she didn’t even question that demand. There was no hesitation in her decision to leave his embrace, and move forward. Peeking over her shoulder as she headed for the stairs at the end of the hall, he realized there wasn’t actually very much that she had to take off. The dress dropped to the floor first, leaving creamy skin to his appreciative gaze. Those freckles of hers were all over. He didn’t know what to look at first on her body.
How about the curve of her waist, and where it melded into hips that swayed with each step she took? Or even the roundness of her ass that had his hands clenching at his sides with the need to dig his fingers into that supple flesh—or fuck, even his teeth? Maybe the two dimples at her lower back, or the way her eyes glittered when she peered back at him again?
There was a lot about her to discover.
So much.
Michel didn’t move until all he could see of Gabbie as she walked up the stairs was her legs from the calves down. She stopped for a second, and he wondered what in the hell she was doing. Then, he watched her legs shimmy a bit before those lace-trimmed, cotton panties dropped down around her ankles. Stepping out of the fabric, her walk continued.
His pants became tighter.
Yeah, fuck.
Michel went after her, and he wasn’t quiet about it because he could hear Gabbie’s sexy laughter echoing from the upstairs as he climbed the stairs as fast as he possibly could. He made sure to pick up those panties she left behind, too.
All the while, he shredded his dress shirt, and unbuttoned his slacks before pulling the zipper apart, too. He kicked his shoes off outside of a bathroom—the same spot she had apparently dropped her bra to the floor.
The next room was a spare bedroom.
The one at the end?
That’s where he found Gabbie.
Naked on the end of the bed, red hair spilling over her shoulder, she sat there with her head cocked to the side like she was waiting for him. A sinful smile curved her lips as she tipped her chin up—a silent challenge, he thought.
Her words confirmed it. “Still want to find out if you made me wet?”
A harsh sound ripped from Michel’s throat—he wasn’t even sure where it came from, but it felt raw coming out. “You have no fucking idea.”
She widened her legs for him, her heels resting to the edge of the bed. No shame, he thought, and he loved that. He didn’t have time to chase a woman’s insecurities, but especially not when it came to her body. All women were beautiful, and all women were different. He got off on a woman who knew that about herself, and wasn’t afraid to show off everything she had.
And right now, Gabbie was flashing him a pink pussy that glistened under the dim lighting in the bedroom provided by the lamps on either side of the bed. She wasn’t entirely bare—a small patch o
f trimmed hair above her pussy led down to the promise land. His mouth watered because what did she taste like?
Tart, and hot?
Sweet, and heady?
He wanted to find out.
Michel stalked closer.
Not yet close enough, though.
“I want a taste,” he said, “but I can’t promise how long that’s going to last before I bend you over and take what I really want.”
Gabbie eyed the panties hanging from his fingertips. “And what did you bring those for?”
“Maybe I’ll stuff them in your mouth to make you taste yourself while I’m fucking you. Or hell, maybe I’ll wrap them around your hands to keep them still. All that matters right now is that you say yes.”
Again, she didn’t hesitate.
“Yes.”
Michel moved forward until he was standing at the end of the bed just in front of her. Gabbie’s gaze drifted over his naked chest, and down his torso until her stare lingered at the black waistband of his boxer-briefs peeking out over the edge of his opened slacks. She liked what she was looking at, and he felt that in his bones. That grin of hers deepened, and Michel chuckled.
“Stroke my ego more, please.”
Her stare snapped back up to his. “I thought you looked good with your shirt on, but …”
Michel leaned forward, then, his hands landing to the bed before his mouth found hers. There was a hunger in their kiss—a need he’d not felt in a long time. He found her kiss was as addicting as anything that felt good for you, but was probably also bad. Her fingernails dragged down his chest as his tongue slashed against hers before he nipped the bottom of her lip. It was her sweet gasp that sent him spinning, and moving faster.
Once he got her back to the bed, his hands were already at her thighs, widening them more. He gave her no warning before he was right where he wanted to be, and so was his mouth. His lips encased her clit, first, teasing and coaxing the throbbing bud with gentle flicks of his tongue before he’d suck on it again. Her trembling increased when one of his hands slid down, and he pushed a thumb deep into her sex to massage the wet, swollen flesh as he worked her clit with his mouth.
Once he found the spot that really had her arching on the bed, and made her fingers twist into his hair as her hips grinded against him, he kept that up. A steady, firm beat with his thumb, and the same pressure with his tongue until she was gasping.
Almost there.
And shit, did she ever make beautiful noises.
Loud cries.
Shaking moans.
More.
His name sounded the very best, though.
“Michel, I’m gonna—”
He knew it already, even if she hadn’t been able to finish before the orgasm came down on her. If it were possible to watch someone break all apart before your very eyes, that was the beauty of Gabbie when she came.
Michel pulled away from her, the heady and tart taste of her still lingering on his lips as he found the condom he always kept in his pocket just in case. Tearing the foil packet apart, he let her resituate herself on the bed to come and help him tug his pants down until his erection was straining against the line of his underwear. Her fingertips drifted over his length as he sifted his fingers through the mess of her curls.
“Get on your knees,” he heard himself say.
Was that even his voice?
It sounded too … hoarse.
It made sense, though. There was a desperation coursing through his body like he’d never felt before, and he was not going to abate it until she was shaking underneath him while his dick was coated with her cum.
Simple as that.
Gabbie’s gaze flicked up to his, but just as quickly, she did as he told her. He got rid of the pants and boxer-briefs before sliding the latex down his length. She was too high up on the bed for him because he wanted to be steady. As much as he could to fuck her as hard as he could. Plucking up the panties he’d discarded before he went in between her thighs to get a taste, he also wrapped an arm around her legs to drag her back to the edge of the bed.
“What—”
She looked over her shoulder, but he already had those panties waiting for her. He decided, after hearing those noises she made, he didn’t want to gag her. Not this time, anyway. Capturing her wrists with one hand, he used his other to wrap those panties around her wrists just tight enough that when he or she pulled, it was going to sting, and there was no way she’d get free. But it wasn’t going to leave marks.
Her skin was too pretty for that, anyway.
“Oh, my God,” Gabbie mumbled when Michel fitted in behind her, and wrapped two fingers around the panties holding her wrists at the small of her back, too. “I can feel you.”
Just for good measure, he grinded the length of his latex-covered erection against the crack of her backside, feeling the way she pushed back against him. All it took was the slight shift of his hips, and the head of his cock rested against her slit.
Gabbie stilled, and dragged in a shaky breath. “Do it.”
Michel’s grip tightened on the panties, and his other came to gather her hair in his fist so that he could see her face as he fucked her, too. One flex of his hips, and he was buried deep into her pussy. She flexed all around him, every tight muscle hugging him all the way in, and then grabbing tighter when he pulled back out.
“Fuck,” Michel swore, the words ripping from his chest.
She echoed the sentiment.
But breathy, and higher.
His hips snapped back against her ass again, and he felt that in his marrow. The way her body took him in, and stretched open. He couldn’t help but watch her pussy take his cock, and when he pulled back out, how she coated him.
The pace between them became brutal, and frantic. Her fingernails dug into the side of his hand where he was keeping them pinned at her lower back. The line of her delicate shoulders strained the harder he fucked her, and she backed into every thrust.
She took him so well.
Perfect, really.
He didn’t know when her cries melded into something more frantic, but he loved that, too. Every single sound that came out of her just urged him on more until he could feel that tightening in his spine, and the heat in his balls. Gabbie trembled through a second orgasm, her head falling down as she sobbed into the sheets. The sight alone was enough to push Michel over the edge, and two thrusts later, he was spilling into latex.
Silence echoed in the dark bedroom.
For all of five seconds.
Gabbie shook with her laughter as she turned her head on the bed, and eyed him over her shoulder. He was still trying to catch his fucking breath. “Can we do that again?”
Michel smirked. “Maybe.”
But hell yes.
They stayed like that for a bit, his cock still semi-hard inside of her still flexing pussy. Gabbie let out a soft exhale before asking, “Why do they call you doc?”
Michel groaned. “Most of them don’t know why they say it—they’ve just heard it, and ran with it.”
“But those who do know?”
“I just finished my first year of pre-med.”
Gabbie smiled a brilliant sight. “A doctor.”
“Someday, yeah.”
“Huh, I could see that. You’d look good in a lab coat.” Crazy woman, he thought, but he liked it. Her randomness kept him on his toes. She sighed another one of those happy sounds, and her ass wiggled against him. “Don’t leave as soon as you wake up; I make a mean breakfast.”
Michel wasn’t the type to even stay the night, but hell, if she asked … “Agreed, donna.”
FOUR
The smell of turkey bacon egg muffins baking in the stove had Gabbie’s stomach twisting with hunger. That was the thing about this disease of hers—very rarely did she get to a good place with her weight. She was either tipping the scales of too much, or too little. And when she was in the underweight category, like now, eating and making sure it was the right foods was almost c
onstant.
Her entire day could sometimes revolve around what she was going to eat, when she was going to eat it, and recording everything about it from the calories to her sugars before and after eating. It was made harder when she had to go out to eat because everyone else wasn’t like her. They didn’t have to watch everything they put into their mouth because it wouldn’t send their sugars out of control like it did hers. Not to mention, not every place in town was exactly diabetic friendly.
It never ended.
Wiping her hands on a dishtowel to rid any remnants of the juices from the apples she’d cut up, she grabbed the glucose monitor she’d left on the counter the night before for easy access. Turning it on, the machine beeped as a score of zeroes for the day crossed the screen, ready to record the fifteen checks, at least, she would do throughout the day. Quickly, she scanned through the last three days of her testing to see if there was any pattern the device wanted her to know about that she should monitor.
Usually, it leveled out during her exercise periods—twice a day, once in the afternoon, and then again later in the evening when she was alone. She did a mixture of yoga, and HITT training with high intensity aerobics to counteract the amount of calories she had to consume daily, and added in a high protein and fiber diet to help, too.
She slipped one of the one-time use lancets from the bottom of the machine after she’d inserted a test strip into the top of the device, and pricked the tip of her finger. A good drop of blood came out, and she turned her face away as it still made her queasy after all these years, and placed the strip where it needed to go to do its thing for the machine.
A few seconds later, the machine beeped again.
Gabbie read the number.
A little high, she thought.
Not too high, but edging there. Getting a bit too close. She set the items aside on the counter. If her father was standing over her shoulder to see the number, he’d probably tell her to cut the apples from her breakfast, despite the high fiber content, and just go with the wheat toast, fake cocoa hummus, and turkey egg muffins.
She still needed the fiber, though.
And to go grocery shopping.
Something else she did way too often.