Broken Wings

by Judith James

  "Oh, Gabe!" she murmured, tears in her eyes. "Trust me. You are the man I see. You've lived inside yourself so long you've lost perspective. I know you're not perfect. Neither am I. You can be very arrogant and difficult, particularly when you're angry." Warming to the topic, she began to enumerate with her fingers. "Sometimes, when you drink too much, you lie snoring with your mouth agape. It's very unattractive. Sometimes you can be positively missish—"

  "Missish!"

  "Oh, yes, you're as bad as Ross sometimes. You can also be prickly, and you're overquick to take offense. Sometimes you're very rude, and Lord knows you can be moody. You use very bad, very foul language, and I swear— mmmphhh—"

  He held his fingers over her mouth to stop her. "Enough," he said dryly, "I take your point."

  "Well, I'm certain there are things about me that you must find annoying."

  "Nothing comes to mind."

  "Come now, Gabe, there's no need to be diplomatic. I will survive it. Do try. There must be something."

  He furrowed his brow, honestly flummoxed. "I swear, Sarah ... no ... wait... Yes! Your nightgown! I hate that godawful thing! It's horrendous, frightful, appalling."

  "What? But it's very comfortable!"

  "It looks like something an ancient crone would wear. When I see you in it and find myself lusting after you, it makes me decidedly uncomfortable. It should be burned!"

  "Hmph!"

  "Well, you insisted. Now you know." He lay back, gazing at the ceiling with her head nestled against his shoulder. Caught up in his own worries, fears, and desires, he hadn't spared a thought for how the changes in their relationship might be affecting her. She must be as anxious and as confused as he was. He'd been a selfish idiot, and he was fortunate, indeed, she was such a patient woman.

  "Better now?"

  He gifted her with a lazy smile, his eyes warm and tender. "Much ... go to sleep now, Sarah."

  "But I don't want to go to sleep," she protested, her fingers tracing his lips.

  He pulled her close. "Nothing needs to change, mignonne. I'm sorry. I behaved like a child, a selfish ass. As you said, arrogant, and quick to take offense, and—"

  "Shhh! Gabriel," she interrupted. "Kiss me, please."

  He looked into eyes filled with invitation, warm with promise. "Sarah, no, sweetheart. So much has happened ... Christ, I—"

  Sarah leaned forward, breathing soft against his skin, trailing fluttering kisses, hungry and sweet along his bristled jaw, his cheekbones, and the lobe of his ear. Her fingers trailed through his hair, untangling it, and then curled around the back of his neck, drawing him forward into a searching kiss. "Let me love you, Gabe," she whispered.

  He gasped as she trailed her fingers across his chest, brushing his nipples as she reached for his shirt, tugging at it.

  "I want to touch you."

  He moaned low in his throat, and shifted awkwardly, heart hammering, as she pulled it off his shoulders.

  Her hands roamed his chest as she'd been longing to do for months, soft smooth skin stretched taut over ironhard bands of muscle. "I want to taste you."

  She kissed his shoulder and ran her tongue along his collarbone and throat as he shuddered beneath her. UI want to please you." When she brushed his abdomen, his whole body jerked beneath her.

  "Enough, mignonne," he said hoarsely, reaching for her hands and shifting her to his side. He was raging with need, erect and throbbing, aching for her touch. "Jesus, sweetheart, have mercy. I'm only a man. We cant play this game. I can't play this game."

  "It's not a game, Gabriel. I love you. I want you, and I want to make love with you. I thought you wanted that, too."

  "I did ... I do ... You don't know. You don't understand...Jesus, Sarah! I've never made love with a woman. I just... I have sex...It's not the same. You deserve so much better than that."

  "Well, I expect it will come to you, much like kissing did. You turned out to be wonderful at that."

  "I don't know if I want to do this with you, mignonne." Christ, what a hypocrite he was! He'd lusted after her for months, taking her in his dreams over and over again. He'd practically begged her earlier, thrown a tantrum when she'd hesitated, and now the moment was here, he was afraid. All of his sexual interactions had been forced, or bought and paid for. He was afraid she would finally see him for the whore he really was. Afraid he would become one, right in front of her eyes. "Sarah, I don't know how."

  "Then let me show you, Gabriel. Trust me as I trust you." Cool fingers traced his jaw, soothing, stroking, and turning him toward her kiss. He shuddered as she moved her hot mouth over the column of his throat, her tongue feeling his pulse as her curious ringers skimmed featherlight across his chest, brushing his nipples. Lips followed fingers. Using the same principles she'd earlier applied to kissing, Sarah tugged gently at his nipple with her teeth, and then stroked it with her tongue.

  He'd been trained to give exquisite pleasure to others. No one had ever paid to pleasure him, and Sarah was introducing him to feelings and sensations he'd not known he possessed. He struggled to stay still, struggled not to weep as her exploration continued with teeth and tongue, silken lips and wicked fingers, stroking and soothing, teasing and gentle. He hissed when her fingers brushed against his belly, and almost jerked off the bed when, clumsy and uncertain, they brushed the erection straining against his breeches as she sought to work on the fastenings.

  "Merde, woman, you will unman me," he snapped, hurriedly twisting and tugging to release himself.

  Her eyes widened when his organ sprang free. It was huge, potent, nestled in a thicket of dark wiry hair, veined and bulging and straining wildly. She had only seen her husband's, flaccid and puny, but still capable of causing her humiliation and pain. She held her hand out to touch it, looking into his eyes, asking permission. He nodded, his breath held tight. She tapped it experimentally.and smiled when it leapt to her touch. She ran her fingers along its length, up and down, stroking and squeezing, feeling him shudder beneath her hands. He moaned as if in pain.

  "It's beautiful," she whispered shyly, "soft and strong, smooth and hard, all at the same time." She bent to kiss him.

  Gabriel felt as if he would shatter under her touch. It thrilled him with an intensity he'd never known. He jerked his pelvis, desperate for contact, wanting her lips and tongue, at the same time remembering other hands, other mouths, other nights. He felt a sharp and acrid twist of shame before he mastered himself, prepared to perform. She would not find him lacking.

  "Take off your gown, mignonne," he ordered, voice low and seductive, eyes glazed with lust. She looked at him, wary of something in his voice, but she reached down and pulled her much-maligned nightgown over her head, blushing as she knelt on the bed, naked between his legs. He captured her head between his hands and pulled her to him, guiding her back to his swollen penis. Uncomfortable, sensing something different about him, she pulled away.

  Letting her go with a knowing smile, he lowered his hands, a predatory glint in his eyes, and brushed her nipples with his fingers. Catching them between fingers and palm he began to roll them gently, squeezing and tugging as she leaned into him, moaning with pleasure. "You like that, chere, do you not? You are hot and wet and for me, yes?" He moved a hand between her legs, stroking the throbbing entrance between her thighs with skillful fingers as she writhed and squirmed, blushing in embarrassment and pleasure. She cried out when he gripped her nub between his thumb and forefinger, tugging it with one hand as his other continued to tug at her nipple. "Tell me what you want, chere" he whispered. "Tell me what to do. I'm here to please you."

  She sensed his absence, knew he was far away. She had felt the metamorphosis when he had changed, no longer her Gabriel, but the other. She wanted to reach into him somehow, find him and pull him back. Pushing his hands away, she trapped his jaw and leaned in for a kiss. When his lips touched hers, she grasped a hank of his hair and tugged. "Stay with me, Gabriel! I can feel it when you leave." His eyes cleared and he pulled he
r close. He didn't pretend not to understand.

  "If you're going to make love to me, you have to stay with me, Gabe," she said gently.

  "I don't know if I can, Sarah. I told you, I know how to fuck, not how to make love."

  "Well, you were doing just fine until a moment ago. If you don't like what I'm doing, just tell me to stop. Don't leave me there all by myself."

  "I'm sorry," he sighed. "Did I... was I... Did I offend you?"

  "No, you were wicked and wonderful. It's just that your voice was odd, and your eyes were...well, you just seemed so far away."

  Relieved, he sank back into the pillows, then clutched for the covers, red-faced as he realized that he was more than half-naked, shirtless, with his still-erect member bulging from his open breeches.

  She reached out quickly and snatched the blanket away from him. "Come now, Gabriel, that's not fair! I'm here naked as the day I was born. If I am, you should be, as well."

  "Or you could dress yourself, mignonne."

  "I don't want to dress myself." she said with a playful pout, trailing her fingers back and forth across his chest. "I'm curious. I've never seen a man completely naked. If you truly cared for me you would satisfy my curiosity."

  "Not even your husband, chere?”

  "No, thank God, he always kept his bedclothes on." She leaned over and kissed his cheek. "But you are very dear to me, Gabriel. I love you, and I love your body, too. I want to get to know it. Won't you let me?"

  Rising on his heels, he lifted his hips and slid out of his breeches, feeling shy and strangely vulnerable. When he had sex, working sex, he always oiled and insulated himself with generous amounts of alcohol, until he could distance himself enough to perform, until he became the sensual automaton his clients required. There was no alcohol easing him tonight, just Sarah, but she felt like life itself. She didn't want to be left alone. If he was going to make love with her, he needed to stay with her. He would do his best.

  She resumed her exploration, mapping his body, front and back, with gentle caresses and honeyed kisses. She kissed his scars, one by one, hiding her tears when she saw how many, his back, his buttocks, his arms and legs, marks of whip, and blade, and fire. She kissed each in turn, as he trembled beneath her. He shuddered, teeth gritted, violently aroused as her smooth hands caressed his back and buttocks and her soft lips tenderly kissed the back of his thighs.

  Cursing, he rolled over, pulling her up and gripping her tight, shifting her onto her back. "Sarah," he moaned, "mon ange, ma belle amie, mon amour!1 He wanted, above all else, to be gentle with her, but her slow and thorough exploration, with velvet touch and dulcet kisses, had driven him half-mad with desire. Aching with a driving need to possess her and make her his, he forgot art, and artifice, and the slow dance of seduction. Panting and moaning he ground against her as he plundered her mouth. Supporting his weight with one arm, he reached down and parted her thighs. Feeling her moist and hot against his palm he pressed against her with his thumb, touching her as he had earlier, sending waves of desire coursing through her body as she stretched her legs wider, pushing up against him, whimpering with need. He moved his hips, his heavy straining shaft rubbing, bouncing, and sliding against her. "Please, Sarah," he rasped.

  “Oh, God, yes! Yes, Gabriel, please!" She reached down to pull him toward her, cupping his aching testicles, caressing his engorged penis, guiding him to the heated center where she waited for him.

  With a guttural cry, he plunged himself into her slick, tight, heat. Oh, Christ, he was in heaven! Unable to contain himself, desperate for relief, he pumped and thrust savagely as she held him tight in her arms, tight inside her. His frenzied mouth sought hers, and starving for her, thirsty for her, he drank her, consumed her, his tongue stroking and plunging wildly in rhythm with his bucking, pounding, twisting hips. When her muscles began to contract, squeezing and releasing him repeatedly in wave after wave of white-hot sensation, he felt it deep inside, through muscle and sinew, skin and bone, through rapturous nerve and singing blood, deep into his heart and soul. Shouting her name, he clutched her to him as he pumped, one, two, three, and surrendered to waves of ecstasy that transported him beyond anything he'd ever felt, or knew, or imagined.

  Wild, exultant, his head fell to the pillow. This must be what heaven feels like, he thought lazily, awash in peace and pleasure, as he floated in her arms.

  Sprawled atop her, coming back to himself, to the room, he shifted his weight, afraid of crushing her, but she tightened her grasp, keeping him close. He dropped his head to her shoulder, nuzzling under her ear as her fingers played through his hair, and her lips explored his face, tasting his tears, kissing his eyes, his nose, and his mouth. Lifting and holding her tight by her shoulders and bottom, he rolled over in one smooth motion, so she lay on top of him, their bodies still joined. Gently he pulled her head down to his shoulder, next to his heart.

  "I'm so sorry, Sarah," he murmured into her hair.

  "Whatever for?" she asked, bewildered.

  "I jumped on you, like a fucking animal."

  "Hah!" she chuckled, ruffling his hair, and kissing his nose. "I always thought I could drive a man wild if I cared to try, and right now I'm inordinately proud of myself. Oh, Gabe, I never knew! I had no idea! I never knew anything could feel so wonderful!"

  "Neither did I," he said honestly.

  Cupping his face in her hands, she whispered against his lips, "Thank you, my love."

  "Thank you, ma chere? He lay, sated and at ease in a totally unfamiliar way, amazed and wonder-struck. He had pleased his woman, and his own pleasure had been overwhelming, and for once, free of guilt. Hugging her tight he rocked her in his arms until exhausted, warm breath intermingling, they fell asleep in a tangle of loose limbs, silken sheets, and soft words of love.

  Sarah was the first to wake. She took the opportunity to feast her eyes on him, as he nestled, lanky and disheveled, in her big bed. His face was relaxed, unguarded and boyish, his sensuous lips curled in a contented smile. He looked adorable. A stray lock of hair tumbled over his brow and she longed to fondle it and tuck it back, but she hesitated. She knew he found sleep elusive and she didn't want to disturb him when

  he looked so peaceful.

  Rising from the bed, she reached for her nightdress where it lay, discarded, in an undignified heap on the cold floor. About to slip into it, she recalled his rather strong opinions about it last evening, and with a playful grin, laid claim to his shirt instead. It was far too big, reaching midthigh, hanging loose and open around her shoulders, but it warmed her, and it smelled like him. Chilled, she moved to the hearth to lay a fire, barring the door on the way against any unwanted early morning intrusion from one of the maids. Let them think what they would. She knew, deep inside, that what had happened between her and Gabriel was right, inevitable, fated from their first meeting, and she wasn't going to diminish it by hiding.

  Chapter

  18

  When Gabriel awoke, he was alone in the bed. The light spilling through the window suggested midmorning. Sarah was sitting on the window seat, reading, knees curled into her chest, her chestnut hair tumbling loose down her back, wearing only a shirt... his shirt. He noted how pretty her toes were, amazed he had never noticed before. His gaze traveled up to trim ankles and finely shaped calves, supple from long hours of riding and walking. His breath caught in his throat when he reached the border of shirt and thigh, marvelous mysteries there, an entire world to explore. She had beautiful legs, legs a man could wrap around himself and hold onto as the world exploded.

  Hardening, breathing heavily, he allowed his gaze to wander higher still. The curve of one breast was visible, creamy, soft, and firm. He knew that from last night. A darkened pointed tip thrust delicately against the linen of his shirt. Her breast reminded him of ripe fruit, something that would slake a man's thirst and still his hunger. His mouth watered as he imagined taking that delicate peak between his lips.

  "Ahem!"

  His gaze flew
to hers. Blushing and wideeyed, he looked like a naughty schoolboy.

  "Enjoying yourself, are you?"

  His thoughts flew to last night. "Oh, yes ... enormously!" he said with a grin.

  Closing her book, she rose from the window seat and came toward him. His eyes darkened and sparked as he watched the interesting things she did to his shirt. Her shirt now. She inhabited it, as she inhabited him. The thought pleased him tremendously. As she reached the edge of the bed, he reached for the hem and tugged at it, pulling her closer, pulling it open and pulling her down into the warm blankets. They made love again, and Gabriel used all the skill and subtlety that had eluded him last evening, setting her on fire with molten kisses, and a sure and wicked touch. They surged toward release, joining in a climax that left them both shaken and trembling.

  "Good Lord, Gabriel what was that? What's happening to us? It's so powerful it's almost frightening."

  "Are you frightened, mignonne?" he asked, stroking damp tendrils of hair from her forehead. He knew he was. Things like this weren't meant for him. He couldn't believe it would last.

  "A little," she admitted. "I don't know where we go from here. It's all so overwhelming. Everything has changed, hasn't it?"

  "Not if you don't want it to."

  She drew back, leaning on her elbows, and looked at him carefully. "What do you mean by that?"

  "I mean the choice is yours, whether we go on this way or not. If we do, eventually your brother will know, your family. They won't be pleased."

  "Are you suggesting we should pretend it never happened? Are you regretting it already?" She was beginning to get annoyed.

  "God, no, Sarah! Of course not. This is as close to heaven as I'm ever likely to come. I love you! I just don't want to see you hurt or embarrassed in front of your family."