Devotion (Central Cities #1)

Chapter 9

9

The fluttery emotions from our brief conversation sustain me over the next few days, which is helpful because everything else about them is not good.

Gabriel is more stressed than I’ve ever seen him. He’s often grumpy. He’s always internal. And he’s reluctant to take any sort of break.

He lets me pleasure him on Wednesday, but on Thursday and Friday he doesn’t. When I ask, he refuses, explaining he’s too distracted to enjoy it.

That’s not it though. He is distracted, but it feels like more than that to me. It’s as if he doesn’t want to let go.

I understand what’s driving him, but it’s very upsetting because I know he’d feel a lot better if he’d just let me help.

Saturday is shaping up the same. He doesn’t have meetings today, so he swims and then begins to work without stopping or chatting with me even briefly.

It’s a couple of hours after noon when he gets up to go to the bathroom and then returns to stare down blindly at the desk. I can sense so much angst simmering inside him it’s like a thick fog swirling around him.

I put down my sketch pad and swing my legs over the side of my seat. “Isn’t it time for your break?”

He jerks his head in my direction with a brief, annoyed expression.

I don’t let it deter me. “You’ll feel better if you take a break,” I murmur with impressive composure given how many conflicting emotions are clashing inside me.

He squeezes his forehead between his fingers and thumb. “I know. But I’m not sure I have time. I’ve put together weekly goals for myself to get this project finished on time, and I’ve still got a lot to do by the end of today to complete this week’s goal.”

“You have at least fifteen minutes to spare for a break. You work better if you let yourself relax for a few minutes. You know you do.”

“I know.” He breathes the words out with a long exhale. He’s still rubbing his head with one hand.

I wait, almost holding my breath as I watch him resolve some sort of internal struggle. Then he finally lifts his hand in that summoning gesture that always makes my heart jump.

He’s distracted. Even more so than when I worked on him on Tuesday and Wednesday.

I can tell he’s trying to relax as I give him a short back and shoulder massage, but once I get on my knees and take him in my mouth, he grows halfway erect and stays that way. He’s gripping the armrest instead of my head. He’s not looking down at me.

Letting him slide out of my mouth, I use my hands to rub his sac. I tease the tip of his penis with my tongue and squeeze the base in a pumping motion. “Gabriel,” I say, sounding oddly hoarse. “Look at me.”

He’s been staring off at an empty spot in the air the way he does when he’s out of it, but he responds to my words. He shifts his eyes down to where I’m kneeling between his legs. Slowly I take him back into my mouth and suck hard, making a hungry, extended sound as I do.

“Oh fuck,” he mutters, staring down at me as his cock grows and hardens until he’s fully aroused.

Pleased and excited, I make another moaning sound as I establish the rhythm he usually likes.

“You like having me in your mouth like this.” His hands finally move to my head, curving around the back above my bun in that possessive gesture I love.

I can’t tell if his words are a question or a statement, but I mumble an eager “mm-hmm” as I apply harder suction with my mouth and swallow down extra saliva.

“Fuck,” he breathes out again, finally starting to guide the motion of my head with his hands. “You’re doing so good today.”

He’s definitely into it now. His cock is hard and big in my mouth. His hips are rocking just slightly, and his hands on my head are demanding.

But after a while he glances away from me, and his eyes focus on the pile of papers on his desk.

It stresses him out. I can sense it immediately. The carnal tension in his body stops building. The climax I’ve been working him into plateaus instead of mounts. I’m sucking like crazy, and he’s guiding my rhythm with his hands, but it feels like I’m losing him.

And I can’t stand it. I’m not going to let it happen.

I moan again, louder and more shamelessly than normal. I’d be embarrassed in a different situation, but I’m not right now. He needs to focus on me. He needs to be with me in this. Not only does he not come easily when he’s distracted but neither one of us enjoys it as much.

My job is to give him what he needs, and he needs this. I know it for sure.

His eyes shift back to me immediately at the sound I make. One of his hands slides down to hold me by the neck. “Fuck, you’re really into it today.”

I make the muffled “mm-hmm” sound again, adjusting on my knees so I can grip his ass. I’m making a lot of silly sounds now as I suck and swallow and move my head with the tempo he’s demanding. I’m so turned on I’m having trouble keeping my hips still, but I make myself ignore it so I can focus only on Gabriel.

He wants this. He needs it. I know it for sure. I can feel it so absolutely.

He’s started to grunt softly, nearing climax at last, when the phone on the desk rings with a grating sound.

My heart sinks.

He only occasionally gets calls, and only twice has it happened when I’m taking care of him. Both times he’s eased my head back so he can answer the call, and both times he’s gotten distracted by the conversation and didn’t let me get him going again after he completed the call.

So on the second ring, I start withdrawing, letting him slip out of my mouth, but he grabs my head and draws it back into place. “No. Don’t stop.”

A new kind of excitement throbs through me as I restart my rhythm, thinking he’s just going to let the phone ring. He needs this so much he’s going to take it even at the cost of his work.

But he doesn’t let the phone ring. He reaches over to the desk and grabs the receiver, moving it to his ear even as I’m on my knees between his legs with my mouth around his cock. “Yes?” he asks brusquely.

It’s his standard phone greeting. I’ve heard it many times before.

I’ve slowed down my rhythm instinctively, softening the pressure of my sucks around his shaft.

He listens to the person on the other end and with his free hand takes a fistful of my loose hair and uses it to speed up my rhythm.

I can’t hear more than a low murmur on the phone from my position as the other person speaks. I have no idea who it is or what they’re saying.

After a minute, Gabriel says, “Okay, tell me exactly what you need from me.” He sounds as curt and professional as he usually does but also a little too breathless. He tucks the phone between his shoulder and ear and holds it there so he can move his other hand back to my head.

I have to swallow off a moan of deep pleasure as he guides me to a faster, deeper rhythm. His hands on my head feel strong. Forceful.

Needy.

He takes a ragged breath when I manage to get him a little farther down my throat. His thighs and abdomen muscles are all so tense they’re shuddering slightly. “Okay,” he mumbles a few times in response to the ramble on the other end of the call. “Okay.”

Each time he says the word, it sounds raspier and more urgent.

He’s getting close now. I check his face and am pleased to see he’s staring down at me possessively even as he’s maintaining a semblance of the phone conversation.

Without warning, his back arches dramatically and his mouth falls open in a silent cry of pleasure. He pushes my face against his groin and rocks his hips into my mouth.

I’m really fighting not to make any sounds. I’m so excited I desperately need to whimper and moan.

“Okay,” he says in a hoarse rush. “Let me find those numbers for you and call you right back.”

The other person must have agreed because Gabriel clumsily hangs up the phone, fumbling before he manages to get it secured on the base.

He’s rocking enthusiastically into my mouth now, groaning uninhibitedly as he finally lets himself go. Then he comes, holding my head in place so he can ejaculate down my throat, gasping out, “Yes. Take me. Take all of me. Don’t stop.”

I suck him through the spurts of his climax and then keep sucking even after he’s fully spent. He doesn’t move for a few minutes after his body has finally relaxed, caressing my head and still making soft, lingering moans as if he’s really feeling good.

When he finally lets go of my head, I straighten up, smiling at him as I tuck him back in his trousers and zip and button him up. “Now you should feel better,” I say, feeling and sounding quite pleased.

He gives a tired chuckle and looks like a whole new man as he collapses back in his chair, rumpled and flushed and almost smiling.

He pats my bottom as I stand up to my bed. “Thank you, Jess.”

“You’re welcome.”

“You were right,” he adds as I linger by his desk. “I did need that.”

“I know you did. Thank you for letting me give it to you.”

Two days later, I wake up after Gabriel has gone down for his swim.

It’s winter now, so it’s completely dark outside. For a minute the familiar room—the scent of the air, the glow of the artificial light, the sight of Gabriel’s empty bed with rumpled covers—all feels weird and foreign. Unnatural.

Unreal.

Like I’ve been living in a dream and real life exists somewhere beyond the fuzzy boundaries of my mind.

The surreal experience passes quickly, so I shake myself off and get up to go to the bathroom. I shower while I’m in there, and then I walk naked out into the main room to pick out one of my dresses from my closet.

I have six of them now, thanks to Gabriel’s generosity. It usually takes partners several years to collect so many.

Something out of place strikes me as I walk across the room, and I figure out what it is after I’ve slipped on a pretty blue dress. I step over to the dining table.

Set on the surface is a small box wrapped in red paper.

Frowning, I pick it up. There’s a small note card tucked into the gold ribbon, and on the card is one word. JESS .

It must be for me.

I study it for a long time, admiring the perfectly folded sides and the neatly squared-off corners of the paper.

Unsure of what to do, I bring it over to my window seat and sit down, holding the package in my lap.

Gabriel must have left it on the table this morning. Who else could have had access to our room? If my family had a gift for me, they would present it in person. And today isn’t my birthday.

My heart flutters. My mind whirls. Finally I can’t stand the suspense any longer, so I very carefully loosen the ribbon and undo the paper, making sure I don’t tear it in the process.

When the paper is off, I smooth it out and place it on the seat beside me. Then I peer at the small box from all angles. It’s just a cardboard box.

I lift the top and look inside.

Frowning, I cautiously pull something out.

It’s an even smaller box, but this one is made of some sort of hard material. It’s glossy and a gorgeous bronze color. The surface is carved with intricate decorations. The box has small, gracefully curved feet.

It’s beautiful and looks antique. It must be pre-Fall. They don’t make anything like this anymore.

Using two fingers, I lift the lid to the box. I gasp when music starts to play. A small figure in white with a halo and a harp rises from the interior and spins around. The inside of the lid is mirrored and reflects the spinning angel.

I gaze down at it in awe, listening to the pretty, archaic tune. I can’t move, but my heart is throbbing in my chest and my throat and my ears.

I haven’t moved or pulled myself together when the door to the room opens and Gabriel strides in. He’s damp and wearing his pool robe. He starts toward the bathroom like normal, but he pauses when he sees me sitting and staring down at the lovely object in my lap.

“It’s a music box,” he says when I don’t move and don’t speak. “It’s probably at least two hundred years old. I thought you might like it.”

“Like it?” I have to clear my throat to continue. “ Like it? It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life. But why?—”

“Oh. It’s Christmas. Today.” Unexpectedly, he looks almost sheepish.

“Christmas?” I blink. Naturally I’ve heard of the holiday, but no one has celebrated it in my lifetime. At least not that I’ve ever heard about. “It is?”

“Yes. The music is an old Christmas carol.”

“It’s… amazing.” I finally manage to move my head. I stare at him with wide eyes and flushed cheeks. “You’re giving this to me?”

“Yes. Of course.” He shifts from foot to foot. “I know people here don’t celebrate Christmas much, but we always did. My family. And you’re the only person I have to give a gift to. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Mind?” I smile, shaky and emotional. “Thank you so much. I love it more than anything. I can’t believe you got me this. Where did you ever find it?”

“I used an antique dealer.”

I gasp again. “Then it’s way too expensive! You shouldn’t have?—”

“Yes, I should have.” He’s scowling at me now. “Stop fussing. It’s Christmas. I give presents. It’s no big deal.”

It feels like a big deal to me. A very big deal. But I can see Gabriel is getting uncomfortable with the depth and sincerity of my gratitude. So I swallow it down. “Thank you. I love it.”

“You’re welcome.”

He relaxes and continues his route to the bathroom. While he’s in there, I lift the lid to the music box and let it play the tune while the angel turns around and around again.

It’s still going when Gabriel emerges from the bathroom fully dressed. I try to close the lid before he sees what I’ve been doing, but I suspect he caught me smiling down at it sappily.

“So your family is Christian?” I ask him, setting down the music box on the small ledge below the window.

He looks surprised as he sits down at his desk. They haven’t brought our breakfast in yet, so he’ll work until they do. “Not so you’d notice. Why?”

“You said they celebrate Christmas.”

“Oh. Yeah. It was mostly cultural. Almost everyone did it before im—before the Fall. And folks in my area kept it up afterward. Everyone still celebrates Christmas there.”

“I see.” I think about this. “I wonder why we stopped here.”

“The only explanation for it not being kept up here is that it was purposefully discontinued. A tradition as widespread and culturally significant as Christmas would never die off on its own in forty-five years even after a worldwide catastrophe. There’s no possible way that would happen.”

I swallow. Think some more. “So someone made it happen?”

“Yes. It had to be Patterson and his government. He took away a lot more than holidays, didn’t he?”

“Y-yes.” I feel almost traitorous admitting it. “Life was hard under him, but he was trying to keep people alive. We couldn’t waste resources on frivolous entertainment.”

Gabriel shakes his head. “Is that really what you believe, or is that simply what you’ve been taught?”

“But President Patterson wasn’t—” I cut off my own words, questioning them for the first time.

I hear Gabriel’s query again. Is that what I believe, or is it simply what I’ve been taught?

I’ve never even questioned it before.

Licking my lips, I try to settle my mind around ideas that threaten to shake the foundations of my world. “I guess I can see that. Life under President Patterson was really bleak and difficult. That’s what everyone says. And he probably did a lot of bad stuff we never heard about. But it’s improved with President Vincent. I’m surprised he didn’t bring the old holidays back when he started to make life better.”

Gabriel looks at me for a long time, and I have no idea what he’s thinking.

“What is it?” I ask him at last.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s not a discussion for right now.”

“Okay.” I stroke my beautiful music box with my fingertips. “Thank you for this. I love it.”

“You’re welcome. I’m glad. Merry Christmas.”

He turns back toward his desk and starts to work.