Gabriel's Inferno Trilogy

by Sylvain Reynard

  “Then what does someone like you do with an angel?” Her voice trembled slightly.

  “Someone like me would cherish her. Try to get to know her and puzzle her out. Start by being…friends, perhaps.”

  She squirmed under his grasp. “Friends with benefits?”

  “Julianne…” Gabriel’s voice held a warning in it. He released her hand and stared at her momentarily. “Is it too much to believe that I want to know you? That I want to take my time?”

  “Yes.”

  He bit back a curse. “This is new for me, Julianne. Your prejudice is warranted to some degree, but don’t deliberately try my patience.”

  “We both know that professors are never friends with their students.”

  “We could be,” he whispered, gently pushing her hair back behind her shoulder and allowing his fingertips to graze the exposed curve of her neck. “If that’s what you want.”

  She didn’t know how to react to this stunning utterance, so she angled away from him.

  “I don’t seduce virgins, Julia. Your virtue is safe with me.” And with that, he cleared the dinner dishes and disappeared into the kitchen.

  Julia finished her champagne in two quick swallows.

  He’s a liar. If I hadn’t said no, he’d have flashed his signature smile and had me naked and spread-eagled before my panties even hit the floor. And he’d probably demand that we reproduce one of the poses from his black-and-white photographs. Then Paulina would call right in the middle of it.

  Gabriel returned and hastily removed her glass and the bottle of champagne. A few minutes later, he brought her an espresso served with a small twist of lemon rind. Julia was surprised. It was difficult to imagine him zesting his own lemons, but nevertheless, there it was—perfect and fresh lemon rind.

  “Thank you, Gabriel. Espresso Roma is my favorite.”

  He looked at her smugly. “I thought it was time we switched you to something non-alcoholic before you threw up on me.”

  Julia scowled. She felt fine. She felt slightly less inhibited but still in command of her faculties. She thought. “What did you write in the card? The one you left on my porch?”

  Gabriel stiffened. “So you didn’t read it?”

  “I was upset.”

  He shrugged. “Then I suppose it’s a good thing you didn’t.” He turned on his heel and disappeared.

  Julia sipped her espresso slowly, trying to guess what he’d written. It must have been something sufficiently intimate for him to be so out of sorts. She wondered if the pieces of the card were still in the flowerbed in front of her building and if she would be able to piece them together.

  A few minutes later, Gabriel returned with a single piece of chocolate cake and one fork. “Dessert?” He moved his chair so that he was sitting closer to her—too close, actually.

  “Julianne,” his voice sang in her ear, “I know you’re partial to chocolate. I bought this to please you.”

  He held the fork under her nose, just so she could pick up the scent. She licked her lips involuntarily. It smelled divine. She reached out to take the fork from him, but he snatched it out from underneath her hand. “No. You need to let me feed you.”

  “I’m not a child.”

  “Then stop acting like one. Trust me. Please.”

  Julia turned her face and shook her head, resisting the urge to watch as he brought the fork up to his own mouth and darted his tongue out to catch some of the frosting.

  “Mmmmmm. You know, the act of feeding someone is the ultimate act of care and affection…sharing yourself with someone else through food.” He held another mouthful of cake under her nose. “Think about it. We are fed in the Eucharist, by our mothers when we are infants, by our parents as children, by friends at dinner parties, by a lover when we feast on one another’s bodies…and on occasion, on one another’s souls. Don’t you want me to feed you? You don’t want to feast on my body, but at least feast on my cake.”

  Gabriel chuckled. When Julia didn’t answer, he turned his full attention to his dessert. She scowled. If he thought this disgusting display of food porn was going to get her attention and maybe make her a little hot and bothered until she was putty in his hands…

  …he was right.

  The sight of Gabriel eating chocolate cake was perhaps the most erotic thing she’d ever witnessed. He savored every morsel, licking his lips and laving his tongue suggestively across the fork after every bite. He closed his eyes and groaned from time to time, making feral, throaty noises that were achingly familiar. He moved slowly and sinuously toward the plate, the tendons in his arms clearly visible, extending forward and moving backward, his eyes burning into hers with every gentle and obvious rhythm.

  Before he’d even come to the last bite, Julia felt the room begin to grow stiflingly warm. Her cheeks were flushed, her breathing labored, and she felt little beads of sweat beginning to form on her forehead. And lower down…

  What is he doing to me? It feels just like….

  “Last chance, Julia.” He made the fork dance before her eyes.

  She tried to resist. She tried to turn away, but somehow when she opened her mouth to refuse, he slid the fork past her lips and into her mouth.

  “Mmmmmm,” he hummed, smiling widely and showing all of his white, perfect teeth. “That’s my good little kitten.”

  Julia blushed more deeply and ran her fingers across her lips, gathering up the last of the crumbs. He was right, the cake was delicious.

  “Now that wasn’t so bad, was it? See how nice it is to be cared for?” he whispered. “See how nice it is to be cared for…by me?”

  She was beginning to wonder if she even had a chance at resisting seduction. All thoughts of what he said about her virtue miraculously flew out of her head.

  Gabriel reached out and grasped her wrist, drawing her fingers to his mouth. “You left some chocolate behind,” he purred, looking up at her through his eyelashes. “May I?”

  Julia inhaled sharply. She didn’t quite know what he was going to do, so she said nothing.

  He grinned wickedly at her silent acquiescence before drawing her fingers into his mouth, one by one, sucking them slowly and swirling his tongue unhurriedly around the tips.

  Julia bit her lip to suppress a moan as her skin exploded into flames. Holy fuck, Gabriel. When he finished, she closed her eyes and wiped the sweat from her forehead.

  Gabriel regarded her silently for what seemed like an age. “You’re exhausted,” he announced suddenly, blowing the candles out. “Time for bed.”

  She opened her eyes as he bent over her. “What about our conversation?”

  “We’ve done enough talking for today. Our conversation is going to be a long one, and we should approach it when both of our heads are clear.”

  “Please, Gabriel. Don’t do this.” Her voice grew low and desperate.

  “One night. Spend the night with me, and if you want to leave tomorrow, I won’t stop you.”

  He picked her up carefully and pulled her tightly to his chest.

  Julia said nothing, the last of her self-control ebbing out of her. She was spent. He’d worn her down and her resistance was decimated. Perhaps it was the champagne. Perhaps it was the drama of the day and their explosive encounter in his office. No matter the explanation, she couldn’t resist him anymore. Her heart was already beating a fevered pace, her insides melting at the heat that floated across her body. And further down, near her womb, came the not so subtle fluttering of desire.

  He will consume me, body and soul.

  In her dreams, it was always Gabriel to whom she gave her virginity. But not like this. Not with such hopelessness in the pit of her stomach and whatever illegible emotion that flashed in his eyes.

  He carried her down the hall to his bedroom and tenderly placed her in the center of his large, medieval bed. He lit a few candles and placed them around the room, on the night stands, the dresser, and the credenza underneath the painting of Dante and Beatrice. Then he turned o
ut all the lights and disappeared into the bathroom.

  Julia took this opportunity to examine his black-and-white photographs. But they were gone. The walls were bare, with the exception of the Holiday reproduction and six hooks and bits of wire that testified to the previous presence of the now absent pictures.

  Why did he remove them? And when?

  Julia was glad they were gone. She was afraid of how they might look in the flickering candlelight, their images glowing raw and Satanic in the semi-darkness, depicting her soon to be sealed fate. Naked, nameless, faceless, soulless. She only hoped the most aggressive one, the sixth photo, would not be what he had in mind for her first time.

  Is that what he would want? Is that what he would demand? Tearing her clothes off, shoving her onto her stomach, pushing into her from behind…not even looking into her eyes as he took her virginity, no kisses, no love-making, nothing but aggression and domination. Julia only knew of his sexual predilections from the photographs, and the fact that he’d described what he did to women as fucking.

  Her breathing began to speed as panic washed over her. She heard an old voice in her head taunting her about fucking like animals.

  Gabriel returned wearing a hunter green T-shirt and a pair of Black Watch tartan pajama bottoms. He deposited a glass of water on the nightstand next to one of the candles, pulled the covers back, and lifted Julia so that he could place her under the sheets.

  She flinched, but he pretended not to notice and reclined on his side by her legs, drawing them close to his chest. He undid her sneakers and pulled off her socks,tenderly caressing the soles of her feet and her toes, making her moan in spite of herself.

  “Relax, Julianne. Don’t fight it. This is supposed to be nice.” He murmured from time to time, more to himself than to her, and at one point Julia thought she heard him say la sua immagine. But she couldn’t be sure. His voice was low, like a whisper or a prayer.

  She silently wondered if he was referring to her or to Beatrice, and which debauched gods he was addressing. Just as silently, she begged them to aid in her escape, instead.

  Please don’t let him consume me.

  “I seem to recall that you liked my Magdalen College boxer shorts. They’re in the top drawer, if you’d care to borrow them. They don’t fit me anymore.”

  Julia sniffled. “Your pictures…the ones you used to have on the wall. Is that what you want?”

  Gabriel’s hands stilled against her feet. “What are you talking about?”

  Her eyes darted nervously to where the sixth photograph had hung and back to Gabriel. His face morphed rapidly from surprise into horror.

  “Of course not! What do you take me for?” His voice was a tragic, offended whisper. “You’re here, you’re tired. I don’t want to run the risk of losing you again before we talk.” He smiled minutely. “I want to make you a breakfast tray with parsley and orange sections, not take your virginity. And certainly not like that.” He seemed disgusted. “I’m not a barbarian.”

  When she didn’t respond, he slipped her feet under the covers. He tucked her in as if she were a child and pressed a light kiss to her forehead, smoothing her hair back from her face.

  “Let’s try to forgive one another, shall we? We’ve both been hurt, and we’ve both wasted so many years. Let’s not waste any more time jumping to conclusions.”

  He stood up and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “It’s quite possible you won’t want me tomorrow, anyway,” he muttered. Then he stood to attention and gave her a small smile. “Call me if you need anything.”

  While Julia tossed and turned alone, she heard Gabriel playing the stereo, softly but fluidly. She didn’t recognize the music, but with the sounds of arpeggios imitating waterfalls she eventually fell into a light sleep.

  Later that night, Gabriel was lying on his back in the guest bed, his arm crooked over his face. He was hovering in between wakefulness and dreaming when he felt a slight shift at his left. A warm body moved toward him, gently tugging at the covers.

  The body crawled in beside him and molded itself to his side. He felt long, soft curls whisper across his now naked chest. He heard a small, contented sigh as an arm slid across the ridges of his abdominal muscles, eventually resting on top of them. Gabriel pressed a gentle kiss to the forehead that was placed above his tattoo and slid his arm around the shoulders and down to the lower back, hesitantly moving his fingers under the T-shirt until they came in contact with soft, smooth skin. And dimples just above the waistband of a pair of boxers that were far too large.

  The warm body sighed again and pressed soft lips to the stubble at his neck. “I tried to stay away…” Julia’s voice was hesitant, “…but I couldn’t.”

  “I tried not to lick chocolate off your fingers. But I couldn’t.” Gabriel’s voice was playful but there was a note of underlying sadness.

  She hummed unconsciously at his remark. “Why did you remove the photographs in your bedroom?”

  He squirmed in her arms. “Because I was ashamed.”

  “You weren’t before.”

  “That was before I decided to bring an angel to my bed.”

  Lazy but curious hands caressed naked skin, exploring gently but chastely. Sighs commingled in the dark as two souls breathed as one. Two heartbeats synchronized when they recognized one another. And two troubled, conflicted minds finally came to rest.

  Just as Gabriel was drifting off, he thought he heard her talking in her sleep; not words, just utterances that grew progressively more panicked, culminating in her breathless release of a name he’d not heard before.

  “Simon.”

  Chapter 17

  When Julia awoke, she yawned and stretched, reaching her hand out and…nothing. Gabriel was gone and his side of the bed was cold. A feeling of unease washed over her. The feeling was old; she’d felt it before. It made her momentarily nauseated.

  She swung her legs to the floor and saw a small note on the bedside table, propped up against a wine goblet, which was filled with water floating with lemon slices. The note was written with a fountain pen:

  Lovely Julianne,

  I’ve gone to pick up something

  special for breakfast.

  Please use the washroom in the

  master bedroom; it’s better.

  I’ve laid out some personal items for you there.

  You can also choose whatever you need

  from my dresser and my closet.

  Please stay.

  Yours,

  Gabriel.

  P.S. Forgive my boldness,

  but you asleep in my arms this morning

  was by far the most beautiful sight

  I have ever seen.

  Wow. How does he do that? she thought, flushing scarlet. The Professor certainly had a way with words…and flowers and music and chocolate cake…She placed a hand to her forehead as she tried to collect herself. Chocolate cake was her new favorite dessert. And the memory of her fingertips in his warm mouth and the way that his tongue artfully…

  Focus, Julia. You need to take a shower. Preferably, a cold one.

  She quickly drank the water he’d left for her and tapped the note against her teeth. The last time she’d slept in his bed she’d had a very rude awakening in his living room. Although he’d been tender with her last night, she worried he might snap at her this morning.

  She opened the door to the guest room and stuck her head out, eager to discern any signs of life. When she was satisfied that she was alone, she walked quietly to the master bedroom and closed the door behind her. She retrieved her clothes and entered his large bathroom, making sure to lock the door.

  Gabriel had left another note with a wine goblet filled with orange juice. It was garnished with an orange slice. Clearly, Gabriel has a thing for garnishes, she thought.

  On the note, she read:

  Julianne,

  I hope you’ll find everything you need here.

  If not, Rachel stocked the vanity

>   in the guest washroom with a number

  of different items. Please help yourself.

  My clothes are at your disposal.

  Please choose a sweater

  as the weather has turned cold today.

  Yours,

  Gabriel

  Julia sipped the orange juice as she examined the items before her. Laid out on the vanity with military precision was a new toothbrush in its packaging, toothpaste, a new disposable razor (which she examined with an arched eyebrow), various feminine-looking toiletries from a company called Bliss, which were all scented with vanilla and bergamot, and a lavender-colored mesh shower sponge that was commonly referred to as a poof.

  Had Gabriel asked Rachel to purchase these items for his guests? Or was Gabriel the kind of man who kept random unused shower poofs on hand for just such occasions? Perhaps he followed a color-code: lavender for virgins, red for Paulina, black for Professor Singer, green for the Emerson whores…Julia doubted the lavender one had ever been used before.

  A virgin poof for a virgin…how fitting.

  Julia stopped herself. Gabriel had asked for forgiveness and tried, gently, to suggest that she refrain from jumping to conclusions about him. And here she was, jumping to conclusions over a shower poof.

  Looking around, she found a white, Turkish cotton bathrobe hanging on the back of the door and a pair of ladies’ bedroom slippers by the bathtub. They were far too large for her and would have been far too large for Rachel’s feet too. This time Julia limited her negative reaction to a roll of the eyes.

  It took more than a few minutes for her to figure out how to operate his very fancy shower, for it had multiple settings for body sprays, water pressures, and temperatures, and was extremely complicated. Julia was only interested in the large and central tropical rain shower, which was, of course, controlled by the last lever she pulled.

  While she surrounded herself in vanilla and bergamot and tried not to think of Cream Earl Grey tea, Julia asked herself some very serious questions. She suspected that Gabriel would want to have their conversation as soon as possible. It was going to be painful. And what was she going to do afterward? Try to be friends with him? For what purpose?