Devotion (Central Cities #1)

Chapter 7

7

Three weeks later, on my sixty-third day as Gabriel’s partner, breakfast arrives earlier than normal, while Gabriel is still finishing his morning swim. I’m already dressed, so I chat with Nico about one of the cooks, who has accidentally gotten pregnant, until he leaves to continue delivering meals.

I’m checking out the large omelet and platter of fruit and waffle pieces when Gabriel strides into the room, still damp and smelling like salt water.

“Oh good, it’s here already,” he says when he sees me by the table. “I’m ravenous today for some reason.” He joins me in peering down at our breakfast.

“You didn’t eat all your dinner last night.” Unsurprisingly, he worked late yesterday. I brought his plate to the desk the way I always do, but after a few bites, he forgot about eating.

“That’s probably it. I’m going to take a quick shower first.” He grabs a triangle of waffle as he heads for the bathroom.

Because he’s hungry, I begin preparing his plate as soon as I hear the shower spray turn off. I’m placing a few strawberries next to the grapes and melon balls when he comes out wearing a thick white bathrobe.

He must be seriously hungry if he’s not taking the time to put on his clothes first.

I hand him the plate, and to my surprise, he doesn’t take it to his desk to work while eating.

He sits at one of the chairs at the table and forks off a bite of omelet. “They do have good food here.”

I’m fixing my own plate as I respond. “I know. It’s better than anything I’ve ever tasted.”

His eyes move from his plate to mine with a frown. “You gave me too much omelet.”

I divided the omelet in the proportions I always do—giving him two-thirds and me the rest. He usually eats without noticing. “You eat more than me, so I always give you extra. Plus it’s technically your food. Not mine. You’re the one who’s supposed to divvy it up.”

His frown intensifies.

“I know. I know. You don’t like our traditions.” I smile to ensure he knows I’m not criticizing him. “Anyway, you’re the one who swam for more than two hours. No wonder you’re starving.”

“Yeah. I guess. But I’d rather you take everything you want rather than following a made-up, arbitrary tradition that’s vulnerable to abuse.”

I have no idea what to say to him. It’s not like he’s wrong. This particular system does place partners in a position where it would be easy to take advantage of them, like Poppy was with Cliff. That’s part of the purpose—to cultivate absolute trust between them. It’s potentially dangerous.

And also special and beautiful when done right. But he still doesn’t recognize those aspects of the relationship.

Because there’s no easy way to address all that, I change the subject instead. “So do you swim back and forth in the pool the whole time?”

His eyebrows lift slightly. “Yes. I do laps.”

“Laps.” I test the word out because it’s not one I’ve heard before in this context. “Doesn’t it get boring?”

“Not really. My mind is working the whole time. I often end up solving problems while I swim. Besides, after I warm up, I always do different strokes and different sets. I try to meet goals in speed—like I’m racing myself. The two hours go quickly.”

“Oh.” I’m trying to imagine but really can’t do it. Before I came to the palace, I’d heard about but never seen a swimming pool. “Who taught you to do all that?”

“My mom did. She’s always loved swimming, and when I was a boy, she taught me.” His expression has softened, which tells me something I didn’t know about him.

He loves his mother.

“And you like it enough to still do it?”

“Yeah. I guess I’m used to it. I feel better afterward. Actually, my dad was the one who told me I need to make a habit of it. I was a teenager when it became obvious I was never going to end up in a physically active job, so he said I better make sure to exercise regularly so I can be strong and stay healthy. A man needs to be strong in this world. That’s what he always told me.”

Well, what do you know? He loves his father too.

He’s never once mentioned them to me before. He definitely hasn’t gone to visit them in the two months I’ve been his partner. I want to ask more questions, but I’m afraid of overstepping. He’s usually not so talkative, and I don’t want him to shut down.

“That sounds like good advice your dad gave you.”

“It really was.” He’s finished off his omelet already and is chewing on a bite of waffle. He closes his eyes and lets out a long sigh. “Shit. We’ve got meetings all day.”

“Yes.” I should be as reluctant as he is about a day full of meetings since my job is to empathize with him. But I’ve actually been looking forward to it. Today Gabriel has four meetings scheduled, and all of them are public, so I get to attend. It makes for a much more interesting day than I usually have. “I know you hate that.”

“So many of them are nothing but a waste.”

“They’re smaller meetings today, aren’t they? Only a few people each? You usually get more accomplished at smaller meetings.”

“That’s true. Maybe it won’t be so bad. I wish they weren’t back-to-back the way they are.” He bites into a large strawberry, and a trickle of juice runs down his lip. He licks it off with his tongue.

That is my main source of reluctance about today. Not that I need a rest between meetings but because there may not even be time for our normal afternoon session. “Yeah. I’m not sure there will even be time for a break.”

He’s watching me strangely, in that focused way that’s difficult to interpret. I’m better at reading his expressions now, but I have no idea what he’s thinking at the moment. He’s nearly finished eating. He pours himself a second cup of apple water from the pitcher, still watching me discreetly.

“What is it?” I ask at last. If he doesn’t want to tell me something, he always says so bluntly, but he’s never gotten annoyed with me for asking a question.

“Maybe after you finish your breakfast, we can have our break now, in case we don’t have time this afternoon.” He’s speaking casually, as if it’s not a big deal, but he’s still watching me closely, so maybe he genuinely doesn’t know what I’ll think of his suggestion.

I perk up immediately. “That’s a great idea.”

“Yeah?”

“Of course yes. Maybe that will help relax you before all the meetings. I can be quick if you need to work before the first one starts.”

We have almost an hour. Usually he’d be using every minute of it to work.

“I don’t think so. I’ve already written today off as a no-work day, and it’s almost more frustrating to get into things and then have to abruptly stop to go to a meeting.”

“That makes sense. I’m almost done.”

“Don’t rush. We have plenty of time.” He’s reached over to the platter for another piece of waffle and the remaining strawberries.

I finish my meal in a few minutes and then go to the bathroom to pee and brush my teeth. As I’m washing my hands, I check out my appearance in the mirror. I’ve put my hair in my normal bun because we’ll be in public all day. The smooth updo highlights the heart shape of my face and the size of my brown eyes. My dimples are only visible when I smile—one in each cheek and another in my chin—and my skin is only slightly rosy this morning. My dress is sleek with mid-length sleeves and a square, not-very-low neckline. It’s fitted in the bodice and falls in soft drapes to the floor, following the lines of my figure but not putting everything on display.

I look elegant, almost sophisticated, and it surprises me. Like I might actually belong at the palace instead of the humble home of city laborers.

Because I don’t want to waste the time I’ve been given with Gabriel this morning, I don’t spend any extra minutes primping. When I come out of the bathroom, he’s moved to his desk chair.

He’s still wearing the bathrobe.

He’s watching me fixedly as I approach and smile at him. Since we have more than forty minutes until we need to leave for the first meeting, I step around him to rub his back and shoulders first.

The bathrobe is thick, and it gets in the way. I push it partway down his arms so I can massage his bare skin instead. I work on his shoulders and neck for a while, pleased when he loosens up easily, sighing and closing his eyes. I spend longer than normal massaging him, sliding my hands down inside his robe so I can reach to the middle of his back.

It’s such an odd, intimate, possessive feeling, working on him like this. Like he’s mine to make feel better. Like his body responds this way only to me.

As I continue, an achy clench tightens below my belly. It’s not lust as I understand it, but it’s something similar. Deep and entitled. Powerful and needy both.

I’m enjoying it so much that I would have extended the massage even longer had Gabriel not murmured thickly, “Come around now, Jess, and take me in your mouth.”

The words—even as brief as they are—intensify my feelings. Everything inside me clamps down greedily. I move around quickly and let him pull me to my knees in front of him.

I draw the sides of his robe apart to expose his groin. He’s already mostly erect, and that excites me unduly. I rub his bare thighs, amazed at the strength of the muscles there, as Gabriel takes hold of my head and moves it toward his cock.

I moan in very real pleasure as I slide my lips down the length of him.

“That’s it,” he breathes out. “That’s what I need.”

Now my pussy is pulsing as intensely as everything else inside me. I use my tongue to tease the tip of his shaft and then slide him out and then back into my mouth, deeper this time.

“Fuck yes.” His hands are moving on my head, repositioning restlessly. He leans farther back in his chair although his face is tilted downward, his eyes focused on me through half-closed lids. “Start sucking now. Let me really feel you. Yes. That’s so good. That’s what I want. Just like that.”

I can’t stop moaning around him as I work my mouth and my head and my throat. It’s making me feel so good. Like I crave it. Like I need it down deep in my bones. The muffled sounds I’m making are almost hungry. I try to stop since they’re so undignified, but I can’t.

I’m so urgent that my rhythm accelerates faster than normal. I want him deeper. I want him all the way inside me.

“Oh fuck, Jess, you’re so eager today. Slow down. Not so fast.” He’s gripping my head, guiding my motion more firmly to slow me down. “There you go. That’s better. Now you’re doing good. You don’t have to rush it. It’s perfect just like this.”

It’s harder than it should be to restrain my enthusiasm, but even the restraint feels good. Necessary. I want to give him exactly what he needs, and there’s something so special about obeying his instructions in this.

I’ve been holding on to his thighs, but now I slide my hands farther back. Since he’s not wearing pants, I can feel the tight skin of his hips and the top of his ass. I hold on to him there as I bob and suck and swallow at the tempo his hands are demanding.

“That’s right.” His voice is as soft as always, but it’s hoarse and sensuous. It turns me on so much. “You’re doing so good now. It doesn’t have to be over so soon. Give me what I need. Just like that.”

I’m still moaning greedily around his cock, and my pussy is hot and wet and aching deliciously. The rhythm he’s set isn’t only slowing me down. It’s slowing him down too. He’s lasting a lot longer than normal, and I’m feeling it in my jaws and my throat.

But I want to feel it. I want to feel even more.

He keeps one firm hand on the back of my head, but the other slides down past my bun to stroke my throat, wrap around the side of my neck. He must be able to feel my throat muscles clenching because he murmurs, “Fuck, Jess, you’re working me so hard. You’re doing so good.”

The acknowledgment makes me whimper loudly.

It catches his attention, but he misinterprets it. His hands gentle. “Are you okay? Is this too much for you to take? You have to tell me if it’s too much.”

“Uh-uh,” I grunt, giving my head a quick shake as I take him a little deeper.

“That’s right,” he says with an exhale that’s mostly a moan. “You’ve got me so deep now. You always give me what I need.”

Nothing has ever made me prouder in my life than those quiet, breathless words. My pussy is fluttering so wildly that I wonder if it’s possible to come without any physical stimulation at all.

It goes on for a few more minutes, with me moaning and straining as I suck his cock with shameless enthusiasm and him holding on to my head possessively as he shifts and mumbles out thick assurances of how good I’m doing, how much he needs it, how I can hold out until he’s gotten everything he needs.

I do. I’m still going at it eagerly when his muscles tighten up like a fist. He holds my head in place as his hips jerk in short thrusts into my mouth. “Fuck yes. Take me down. All the way. All the way.”

I start swallowing even before his first spurt of release. The semen hits my throat hard, but I’m ready for it. I manage to get it down without choking, digging my fingernails into the firm flesh at the top of his ass. And after he’s let go of the last of it, he relaxes in the chair with long, stretched moans of satisfaction.

I keep holding my position, still sucking around his lightly shuddering cock.

“That’s so good,” he mumbles, still holding my head in place at his groin. “Keep going. I need it. I need it.”

I make a hungry sound around his cock, which is finally starting to soften. I can’t move my head because of his clutch on it, so I’m no longer bobbing over him. But I’m still applying light suction with my mouth. It’s not as intense as before, but for some reason it feels even more intimate. I love it just as much.

We stay in position until he’s softened all the way. Then he finally slides his hands down to my shoulders so I can straighten up. My neck is sore. My jaw is even sorer. My knees and my back and my throat hurt. My cheeks are blazing hot, and my eyes and nose are running slightly.

I smile up at him, thrilled by how utterly satisfied he appears. Almost debauched in his half-undone robe and his hair still damp from his shower. His face is flushed darkly, and his eyelids are heavier than I’ve ever seen them.

“Thank you, Jess,” he manages to rasp. “What a way to start the day.”

I giggle. I can’t help it. I stand up, ignoring the soreness of my body as I walk around to the back of his chair. I rub his neck, shoulders and back for ten more minutes, delighted by how loose and relaxed all his muscles are. But eventually our time runs out. He has to get up to dress quickly. I have to drink some water and go to the bathroom. I don’t even have time to secretly rub myself off even though I’m so aroused it’s like torture.

Then we both leave for our first meeting of the day.

The day is long, but I don’t find it tedious. He meets with a small group of administrators about financial information from the past ten years, then with a couple of the legal administrators about policies that govern the banking system in the Central Cities, then with another small group about potential changes in immigration practices. Then finally with the finance group again—this time with the president.

Most of the other partners doze or daydream through the meetings, but I listen. I’m naturally curious, and I like to know what’s going on. And I particularly want to learn background information for the huge project Gabriel is working on.

Obviously I can’t help him with it, but trying to understand his work is a reasonable thing for a partner to do.

One of the administrators at the first and last meeting is a pompous, obnoxious older man named Lennox. He doesn’t like Gabriel. I can see that very clearly, and more than once I’ve had to restrain my defensiveness when he’s said something critical or condescending toward Gabriel.

I really want to scratch the infuriating man’s face off. How dare he talk that way when Gabriel is ten times smarter and more competent?

Gabriel, being who he is, acts blandly oblivious to every slight or criticism and always turns the conversation back to the work that needs to be done. It’s actually a good strategy for dealing with a man like Lennox, but I still want to lash out and put the man in his place.

When the final meeting is over at last, it’s almost dinnertime. Stella, whom I’ve continued to assess as an intelligent and considerate person, asks Gabriel something about how credits are assigned to farm produce, and they have a brief, friendly conversation about it.

Lennox must have been listening, because he lumbers over and complains that they shouldn’t be having the conversation without his input.

Gabriel is a few inches taller than him. He blinks down and asks mildly, “I’m sorry. Remind me who you are again. What’s your position?”

I almost burst into laughter at Lennox’s expression. It takes real effort to restrain my amusement. I know for a fact that Gabriel is aware of both Lennox’s identity and his role in the administration. He learned all his colleagues’ names, faces, and positions in the first week. So this is obviously his way of putting the man in his place, exactly as I wanted to happen.

Lennox is so offended he storms off in a huff, muttering about gauche outsiders being too full of themselves for their own good.

Gabriel is gathering his stuff, so I stand up to be ready to leave with him. Stella is laughing silently at the encounter the way I am, and her eyes happen to shift in my direction.

We’re both obviously thinking the exact same thing and enjoying the moment, and we smile at each other in mutual accord.

I like Stella, and I know she likes Gabriel. That’s all the moment means.

Gabriel is ready to go then. He waits until I fall into step behind him before he strides out of the room.

Gabriel has a headache. I suggest he try to rest, but he’s gotten some ideas during the meetings and wants to do a few hours of work this evening. So I run downstairs to get him some pain medication from the clinic.

We could call down for it. There’s a phone system in the palace, and a member of the domestic staff is always happy to deliver things for an administrator. But I like to stretch my legs, and I like to see what’s going on elsewhere in the palace, so I volunteer to make quick errands myself.

I meet one of the nurses who’s recently started at the palace clinic, and we have a pleasant conversation for a few minutes before I make my way back to our room. I’ve opened the door a few inches when I’m suddenly aware that Gabriel is speaking.

Maybe someone has stopped by to visit. I don’t want to interrupt. So I pause, listening before I barge in.

“What are you talking about?” he asks, sounding slightly confused but not annoyed.

When there’s no answer, I realize he must be on the phone. He doesn’t get many calls. The phone system only services the palace complex itself.

“Why would I swap?”

I have no idea what he’s talking about. It’s probably inappropriate, but I’m curious so I keep listening, poised in the doorway with the door only partly open.

“Oh, I understand, but I don’t want to swap. For one, I don’t want a male partner. I prefer women.”

I gasp sharply as I suddenly realize what this conversation is about. Someone has called him up and asked to switch partners.

It happens. Semiregularly. Administrators can change partners as they wish, and it’s easier and simpler to swap than to discard a partner and pick a new one from the selection group.

But the idea of being swapped away from Gabriel is really upsetting. My stomach twists, and my hands start to shake.

“Yeah, I get that,” Gabriel is saying now, still sounding relaxed and casual. “But I don’t really want to pick a new woman for a partner either. I’m used to Jess.”

While his being used to me isn’t much of a compliment, at least it’s reassuring that he doesn’t want to get rid of me.

There’s a longer pause this time. Then it sounds like he might finally be interrupting the other person. “Yes. Yes. Stella, I hear what you’re saying. I understand it’s normal practice, but I’m settled, and I don’t like change. Jess suits me fine.”

Stella . Stella is asking to change partners. For some reason she’s decided she wants me instead of Benji.

“It’s my decision, right?” After a brief pause, he continues, “All right then. That’s my final decision. I don’t want to mess with someone new. … Of course. I’m not offended at all. There’s no harm in asking. … Yes, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

When I’m sure he’s ended the conversation, I swing open the door and say brightly, “I’ve got the medication. Sorry it took so long.”

“No worries.” He glances up from his desk as I approach, then accepts the pills and the glass of water I pour him. “Thanks for getting that for me.”

I wait to see if he’ll say anything about the call and Stella’s request, but he doesn’t. He’s immediately focused back on his work.

Oh well. At least he wants to keep me. His words might not have been entirely flattering—he’s used to me, he doesn’t like change, I suit him fine—but it would be silly for me to hope he feels more strongly about me than that. He’s generous and considerate and interesting and has learned to appreciate what I can do for him within the limits of what he’ll allow. That’s perfectly acceptable for two months in. He’s loosened up with me significantly, and I’ve been happy about that. I’m not going to let one overheard conversation change my perceptions about myself and my situation.

I’ll have to be more careful about who I smile at, however. I don’t want anyone else getting the idea that I’m looking to swap.