Gabe's Revenge

by Doris O'Connor

  He ran his hands over her ribs and shook his head at his stupidity.

  “Shit, I forgot. Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I? I—”

  The shove to his chest caught him off guard, and he stumbled back a step.

  “For fuck’s sake I’m fine. Will you explain to me what the hell is going on?”

  There she was, his little spitfire. Gabe hid his relieved amusement and, crossing his arms over his chest, raised an eyebrow and widened his stance.

  “Is that any way to talk to Daddy, baby girl?” he asked, dropping his voice on purpose.

  Lissa’s eyes widened, growing soft as her submissive side instantly responded to the steel in his voice, and warmth flooded his chest. Shit, he loved this woman, and he would tell her just as soon as they’d sorted this out.

  “I’m sorry, I thought, you didn’t see me like that anymore. I—”

  She blanched at his furious growl in response and dropped her gaze to the floor.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “So you should be, girl, and if I wasn’t still worried about your ribs you’d have just earned yourself a trip over Daddy’s knee and not for the fun kind of spanking.”

  A needy whimper came from Lissa’s full lips, and Gabe pulled her back into his arms.

  “Is that what you were thinking? That I didn’t want you anymore, sweetheart?”

  Lissa nodded into his chest, and he wasn’t at all surprised to feel the fabric dampening with tears. He steered her over to the bed, to enable him to sit down and draw her onto his lap. As she sank against him, hugging him back, the world righted itself again.

  “I thought you saw me as damaged goods now.” Had he not been so focused on her he might have missed that far too quiet whisper of a reply. Cupping her chin, he nudged her head up to read her expression. The raw emotion and desperate hope that shone back at him took his breath away and made him blurt out his own feelings.

  “Nothing could be further from the truth. I love you, and I always will, no matter what happens.”

  Renewed tears sprang into her eyes, and Gabe grumbled his annoyance.

  “Jesus, don’t cry, baby.”

  Her little hands come up and tugged at his beard, while she shook her head.

  “Big, old, bad Dom afraid of a few tears.” She grinned up at him, and he knew his face sported a shit-eating grin of his own as he responded to her.

  “Less of the old, girl. I’m in my prime, I’ll let you know.” He kissed her nose, and Lissa giggled, further soothing his very soul. Who knew he had it in him to sound like a fucking poet? Just as well his men weren’t here to witness him going all soft on his woman like this. He’d never live it down.

  “Is it really all over?” she asked, and he nodded.

  “Yes, my sweet. Dickinson was on Ollivanti’s payroll. With that fucker gone, he’ll be on mine, or he’ll be living the rest of his life out in prison. Brass don’t tend to do that well inside, so I’m confident he’ll take the deal and this whole thing will be dropped.”

  “Oh, just like that?”

  Gabe smiled at her surprise.

  “Just like that, yes.”

  He let her mull this over for a little while before he spoke again.

  “Now, what have you got to say to Daddy, baby girl?”

  Lissa shivered, and he pulled her in a little closer, concerned that this was all too much for her after all, when she floored him completely.

  “I love you, too.”

  Their gazes connected, and he couldn’t doubt the sincerity shining back at him.

  “And you’re not a monster, not to me. You never were, and for what it’s worth, I’m glad you killed all those people. Even Andrini.” Her voice caught on that last word, and he hugged her closer.

  “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry I had to. I promise I’ll do better from now on. No one is going to touch you again. You’re mine, and I’m yours. To hell with the rest of the world.”

  Lissa shook her head and surprised him again.

  “I don’t expect that of you. I know you need to do stuff. With Ollivanti gone, I dare say you’ll be taking over?”

  She sat up more and searched his face, and Gabe ran a hand over his face.

  “I can let someone else do that if you prefer.” The mere thought threatened to turn his guts inside out, but he meant it. He’d do it for her.

  “I wouldn’t ever ask that of you. Besides, you look after your people. I’m guessing whoever was working for Ollivanti will need looking after, too, or … well I guess you’ll do what you have to. Just don’t get yourself arrested again, please, Daddy?”

  Gabe’s heart damn well nearly burst out of his chest hearing her call him that, and he nodded.

  “I’ll try my best, baby, but I’m done talking. I need to be inside of you.”

  Lissa bit her lip and straddled him with a speed that made him dizzy.

  “Then have me, I’m yours.”

  The End

  www.dorisoconnor.com

  BONUS SAMPLE CHAPTER

  HER BEST FRIEND’S HUSBAND

  Doris O’Connor

  Copyright © 2017

  Chapter One

  “Do you take this man to be your lawful wedded husband, to have and to…”

  Wedding wows Naomi had heard countless times before threatened to tear her heart in two, as her best friend committed to love and be faithful to one man for the rest of his natural life. Blinking away tears, Naomi turned her back on the couple, seconds before the room erupted into loud cheers. That was it then. Josh was married, the terms of the odd will his rich-as-Croesus, and extremely eccentric Great Uncle Thomas had insisted upon, fulfilled. Never had she been more thankful for her duties as the wedding organizer as they meant no one would find her rapid departure from the room odd. She checked in with the caterers and observed the last finishing touches to the ballroom of the hotel where the reception would be held.

  Outside a flock of doves took to the sky, and Naomi had to smile at the outrageously romantic gesture Josh had insisted on.

  "I know it's cheesy as fuck, but I've always liked this idea, so I want thirty-nine doves. One for each year of Dawson's miserable life."

  His ten years older fiancé had raised an eyebrow and flipped Josh the finger.

  “Watch it, pup. Sass like that will be dealt with later. Then again, I dare say that’s what you’re hoping for.”

  Josh had laughed and pulled the older man's head down for a passionate kiss, which had left Naomi rather hot and bothered. The sensible thing would have been to leave the room, but that would have made it perfectly obvious how much seeing the two of them together turned her on. It was bad enough that she had secretly lusted after her best friend for as long as she could remember, never mind his fiancé. Who did that, after all? Especially, when said friend clearly preferred men over women on the whole, and the odd women he had chosen to bed over the last ten years of their friendship had looked nothing like Naomi.

  Comfortable in her size sixteen dress size, Naomi’s naturally enhanced cleavage had always ensured plenty of male attention—usually the wrong sort—after all, she was no slut. One night stands to meet college lads’ quota of I’ve fucked the fat, black girl had never been her style. Besides, Naomi had long since discovered she needed a certain amount of kink in her relationship, and after having had her fingers burned one too many times with wanna-be dominants, she’d all but given up on ever meeting her Dom. Someone like Dawson so clearly was, dammit. Another reason why Josh and she would have never worked, because as sinfully hot as her friend was, he was a sexual submissive, and thus they’d been doomed before they’d ever gotten off the ground so to speak.

  It was far more sensible to remain friends and to bemoan the lack of suitable guys over one too many bottles of tequila on more occasions than she chose to remember.

  So, they’d both done their best to ignore the growing sexual attraction between them lately, which, Naomi was pretty sure had only come about due to Great Un
cle Thomas’s reading of the will.

  It had made interesting reading for sure. Much to Josh's surprise, his uncle had made Josh the sole beneficiary of his considerable estate. Thomas had been a shrewd investor, who had chosen to live his life in relative simplicity, and no one had been more shocked than Josh to discover that he had been left millions.

  The only stipulation had been for Josh to marry within the next three months, or the money would be left to various LGBTQ charities. The expressed preference for that marriage had been to take place with another guy, as that would ensure Josh got all the money. Had he chosen a more conventional route and married a woman, Josh would have received only half.

  “Well, isn't that the damnedest thing.” Josh had uttered those words in complete bafflement and had stunned Naomi by turning around and grinning at her.

  “There’s only one thing for it, sweet cheeks. You’ll have to make an honest man out of me, after all.”

  The rather stuffy solicitor had raised his overly bushy eyebrows at that, and Naomi had wanted the ground to swallow her up, even as some small part of her had squeed for joy like a kid on Christmas morning.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” she’d said instead. “We’d never work like that, as you well know. Besides, I’m pretty sure your uncle expected you to make a love match, so—”

  “I’m fucked either way, I get it. How on earth am I going to achieve that in three months? Great Uncle Thomas was quite insane it seemed.”

  While Naomi had silently agreed with that assessment the solicitor had cleared his throat and looked down his long hawkish nose at them both. Even the incorrigible Josh had snapped to attention as though he was facing the head master at school.

  "I can assure you, Mr. Garrison, that your uncle was of sound mind when he made this will. He was denied the opportunity to follow his heart when he was a young man, and he confided in me on more than one occasion that he was worried about your seeming unwillingness to commit and settle down. With gay marriage now possible, it was his firmest wish that you find someone to make you happy if you haven't already."

  He'd looked at Naomi in such an assessing way she'd squirmed on her seat. There was no way this stranger could know the depths of her feelings. Naomi might love Josh and vice versa—at least in a friend only way—but that didn't mean a thing in the grand scheme of things, not when his whole future was at stake here.

  In the end, it hadn't mattered, of course, because Josh had met Dawson. It was ironic in the extreme that Josh and Dawson would never have met, had it not been for this will. In an effort to ascertain the legality of the will, Josh had sought other legal advice. Monroe and Creek were the solicitors, which had been recommended by Naomi's accountant, and the rest was history as they say.

  "Ah, there you are." Dawson's deep, compelling voice snapped Naomi out of her day dreaming, and she took an involuntary step back when Josh's new husband advanced on her. How on earth had she ended up in this tiny service corridor? There was no way she could get past Dawson's bulk, not without plastering herself all over him, and that would be inappropriate to the extreme. As were the erotic thoughts her mind was meandering down in an instant. Damnit though.

  At six feet and a half, Dawson towered over her by a good foot. To be fair, he towered over most people, apart from Josh, and if his height wasn't intimidating enough, then the air of dominance that leaked out of his very pores most definitively was. It meant Naomi reverted to the equivalent of a tongue-tied schoolkid around him, and she swallowed past the sudden lump of apprehension in her throat. There was something dark and dangerous in the slow appraisal he gave her body in the gloomy corridor.

  Her skin tingled, and goosebumps broke out across her exposed flesh under his silent perusal. When his gaze lingered a fraction too long on her bosom, Naomi barely resisted the urge to bring her arms up over her chest to hide her body's far too obvious reaction to his presence. It would only draw further attention to the way her breasts heaved with her desperate need for oxygen. Her nipples were tight little beacons, practically begging for some attention, and she clenched her thighs together in a vain effort to stop the answering ache in her clit. There was nothing at all she could do about her knickers growing damp.

  She was going to go straight to hell, there was no doubt about it, because she couldn't help her building excitement when Dawson's lips curved into a half smile. By the time his amber gaze sought hers, trapping her with its heated intensity, Naomi couldn't have moved away if her life depended on it.

  “You’re not hiding from me, are you, sweet Naomi?”

  She screwed her eyes shut and shook her head, as he closed the distance between them until he stood so close to her that his body heat seeped through her dress. The whiff of his expensive cologne melded with the scent of Dawson, and Naomi held her breath when she felt him lean in closer. So close that his breath ghosted across her face.

  “Good. Open your eyes, my sweet.”

  Naomi shook her head, and a low chuckle was her reward. It brought with it more of Dawson’s virile scent, and a whimper escaped her when she felt the calloused pads of his fingers stroke across her collarbone before he buried one hand in her hair and tugged.

  “I said look at me, girl.”

  The submissive inside of her instantly responded to the molten steel in his low voice, and his eyes lit up with silent approval. “That’s better. Josh is looking for you.” He grinned when Naomi immediately blushed, and she held her breath when he traced the heat in her cheeks with his fingertips.

  “Fascinating,” he murmured, and Naomi had to ask.

  “What is?”

  Instead of answering her, Dawson continued the gentle strokes along her skin, and her heartbeat went into overdrive when he followed the line of her jaw, and lingered on her pulse point. It would be so damn easy to relax into the strokes of the calloused pads across her hypersensitive skin. Strokes that left heated awareness of him in its wake. This was wrong on so many levels, yet it felt so damn good. When those clever fingers delved lower, along her collarbone, and lower still, until they traced the tops of her breasts, Naomi finally found the gumption to push him away. Not that it got her very far, because Dawson didn’t move an inch, and feeling the hard muscles of his chest under her hands did nothing whatsoever to calm her raging libido.

  “Please…”

  “Relax, sweet Naomi, and stop acting as though I’m going to eat you.” He pulled back to give her much needed breathing space. “Though the idea has merit … if it wasn’t my wedding night.”

  His grin turned positively sinful at Naomi's gasp in answer. She gave him a shove to further reiterate her point and to hide her body's immediate reaction to this man.

  He’s married to your best friend. Stop ogling him.

  Surely if she repeated that mantra in her head it would have the desired effect?

  She breathed a sigh of relief when Dawson took a step back. She still couldn't fit past him, but, at least, she wasn't pressed up against him anymore. Crossing her arms over her chest, to hide her trembling hands and the whole come-get-me-act her nipples were engaged in, she squared her shoulders and tried her best to glare at him.

  “You have no right to say such things to me. You’ve—”

  “Why not?” His casual question threw her further off balance, and Naomi was painfully aware that she must be doing goldfish impressions right now, but … seriously?

  "Why not?" she echoed and blew out an exasperated huff when he winked at her.

  "Yes, why ever should I not say what I think, especially when it's the truth?" He tapped her mouth shut by hooking his index finger under her chin, and Naomi swallowed hard when he gave her his full attention. That blasted blush stole back into her cheeks, and before she could think of one sensible comeback, he stunned her further.

  "I didn't think a blush would show with your darker skin tone…" Again, his fingers traced the curve of her cheek before he pulled that hand into a fist and dropped it next to his thigh. "I'm delighted t
o see that I was wrong, as it makes you far easier to read, my sweet."

  "I … that is…" Naomi inwardly rolled her eyes at her complete inability to string a coherent sentence together and settled for glaring at him to try to get her point across. When that didn't work, she groaned.

  “I don’t know what game you’re playing, but might I remind you that you are married. To my best friend, I hasten to add, and…"

  She couldn’t bring herself to carry on, because Dawson quirked an eyebrow at her, disapproval written all over his face.

  "Careful there, girl. I don't like your tone, and neither do I appreciate the implication. Josh sent me after you. He seems to have some misguided notion of needing to see you before I whisk him away on our honeymoon. He's worried about you. I don't like to see him worried, so I came to find you." He stepped back while he spoke, and in the next instant his strong hand clamped around her elbow and propelled her in front of him.

  “So, let’s get this over with. Smile and dance with him, girl. Skulking around in corridors is not going to help, now is it?”

  “I wasn’t skulking. I was just…”

  The rest of whatever she was going to say stuck in her throat, when Dawson pushed her through the door at the end of the corridor, and she found herself emerging into the decadent ballroom, and the throng of people. The vise-like grip on her elbow turned into a soothing caress, as Dawson's voice bellowed out from behind her.

  “Found her. You were right, of course. Our girl was working far too hard.”

  Our girl?

  Her heart gave some very suspicious bumps at that notion, but before she could ponder what Dawson could possibly mean by that, they were in the middle of the room, and everyone seemed to be staring at them.

  Where is that mousehole to hide in when you need it?

  Naomi hated being the center of attention like this, especially as she'd lost the cloak of professionalism that kept her going through these events. This whole day had been a nightmare as it was, like she’d known it would be. It had only been Josh's pleading with her that had made her agree to organize his wedding. Besides, it's what she did, so to refuse to organize her best friend's wedding? That would have just raised suspicion. Just like this—whatever this was—would surely set tongues wagging.