Devotion (Central Cities #1)

Chapter 12

12

The following morning, I wake up when Gabriel gets out of bed. Groggy, I try to sit up while he’s in the bathroom, but I can’t make myself.

I do manage to lift my head as he comes out dressed for swimming. “Is the pool open today?”

“It’s supposed to be.” He looks at me in my window alcove for several seconds. It’s mostly dark in the room, so I have no idea what he’s thinking.

Before I can ask about it, he turns and leaves the room without another word.

I should start moving, but there’s no real hurry. I get more comfortable and wait to see if Gabriel will return soon because the pool is still closed. If it is, maybe he’ll want me to give him another long morning session.

I’m not sure how long I wait before I accidentally fall back asleep.

The next thing I’m aware of is a gentle hand on my shoulder and a familiar, soft voice saying my name. “Jess. Jess.”

Blinking, I fight to make my eyes and brain function enough to orient myself.

It’s Gabriel who’s waking me. I do know that much.

“Gabriel,” I mumble, forcing my eyes open.

He must be kneeling next to my window seat, because his face is startlingly close. “Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah. I think so.” I take a few deep breaths and raise my head. “Is it time to get up?”

“You’re normally up by now, so I was worried. Are you sick?”

“No.” My mind has finally cleared enough to remember what day it is and what’s going on. Gabriel smells like soap, so he’s obviously returned from swimming and has already taken a shower. He’s not dressed though. He’s wearing his sleep shorts, and it’s not as light outside as it normally is when he gets back from his swim. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I fell back asleep. Did you need me?”

“Not if you want to sleep more. But how would you feel about doing me like yesterday morning?”

And that’s enough to fully wake me up.

My blood coursing with excitement, I lever myself up to a sitting position. “Of course!”

“I guess it’s kind of selfish to wake you up for just that.”

“No, it’s not selfish at all! I’m excited. Just let me run to the bathroom real quick and then I’ll be ready.”

He’s smiling just a little as he stands up and heads toward the bed.

On my way to the bathroom, I check the clock and realize he actually cut his swim shorter than usual—an hour and a half instead of his normal two hours. The only possible reason for this is that he wanted to leave enough time in his schedule for me to take care of him.

I really can’t believe it. It’s like a dream come true.

I do what I need in the bathroom quickly. I’m carrying the body oil and still wearing my nightgown as I return to find Gabriel lying on his stomach on the bed like yesterday.

He lifts his head to watch me approach.

I pause. “Do you want me to take off my gown?”

He nods. His eyes grow hot as I pull the nightgown off over my head and let it drop to the floor. I’m completely naked beneath it.

I stand by the bed for a minute so he can see me. It’s ridiculously thrilling. Arousing. Just standing still while his eyes rake up and down from my face to my bare feet on the polished tile floor.

Finally I climb onto the bed and sit on my knees beside him. Since he asked me to do it like yesterday, I squirt oil into my hands and start on his shoulders, moving down his back and then his legs. I’ve made it to the back of his thighs when I ask, “Have you been single all your life?”

The question comes out of nowhere. We haven’t been talking, and Gabriel has been exhaling in that purposeful way that shows he’s trying very hard to relax.

His eyes open, but his body doesn’t tense up at all. “Mostly. I had a girlfriend as a teenager. There weren’t all that many girls my age, so we sort of fell into a relationship early on. We were together for five years.”

I’m immediately jealous of this faceless, innocent girl from his past, although I know it’s wrong to feel that way. “Oh. You were twenty when you left home, right? Did she not want to come with you?”

He clears his throat. “I didn’t… I didn’t invite her to come with me. I liked her, but it never felt… special. I think she knew the breakup was coming. She’d been pressuring me to marry her for two years at that point, but it didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel like me .”

“I guess that makes sense.” I pause to see if he’ll continue. When he doesn’t, I ask, “Has there been no one else since her?”

“I’ve had sex partners, but nothing serious ever developed. Honestly, in the twenty years since I left home, I’ve been so focused on work that I haven’t had space in my life for anything else.”

“You didn’t want children?”

He makes a shrugging motion. “I… I don’t even know. I’m forty now, so I think that time has passed.”

“What do you mean? Men can have kids long past forty. You can still have a family if you want.”

I don’t actually want that for him because it would mean he would have people in his life more important than me. In fact, Gabriel has such old-fashioned sensibilities that he would probably refuse to let a partner do anything for him if he had a wife. Other palace administrators—both men and women—have no qualms about letting their partners please them in ways their spouses can’t or won’t. But Gabriel probably wouldn’t do that. He’d still treat me kindly and with generosity, but he wouldn’t let me do this for him anymore.

I hate the idea of it. Hate it so much I feel the emotion shuddering through me. I force it out of my mind.

“I don’t know,” Gabriel murmurs at last. “I’m not sure that kind of life is intended for me.”

There’s something almost poignant in the words. I feel them in my chest. In my throat. “Well, not everyone’s life has to look the same.”

“That’s true. What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Have you been single all your life?”

“No.” I frown down at him. “I’m not single now. I’m your partner.”

That catches his attention enough for him to glance back at me. I’m massaging the back of his knees, so he has to lift his head and twist his neck. “So you’re not single right now but I am?”

“Yes. Of course.” He looks so confused and astonished by my simple claim that I continue, “My life is committed to you. There’s no way anyone could understand me as single. But you’re not bound by the same ties that I am. You can pursue anyone you want romantically in a way that’s impossible for me.”

Not that I want him to do so. In fact, it would upset me so much it doesn’t bear considering. But I have to tell him the truth about our situation whether I like it or not.

“That doesn’t seem fair.” He lowers his head back to the pillow, his face turned toward the right.

“It’s not about fair. It’s about giving . It’s about… about devotion.”

I don’t know if he truly understands even now, but he doesn’t question it anymore. He’s silent as I work on stretching out the firmly developed muscles of his calves.

“But before you came to the palace, were you always single?”

“Yes. I knew I wanted to do this for ten years, so I purposefully avoided any sort of relationship that would make sex an expectation. I guess I had some crushes on boys when I was a girl, but I never pursued them in any way. This has always been what I wanted.”

“And it really makes you happy?”

He’s looking back at me again. I meet his gaze with steady eyes. “Yes. I’m happier than I’ve ever been in my life. My family is better off than they’ve ever been before, and I’m doing exactly what I’ve always dreamed of. Why shouldn’t I be happy?”

“I… don’t know. I’m not sure I’m important enough for someone to…”

He doesn’t finish the sentence, but he doesn’t have to. I stretch my arm out to touch his jaw very lightly. “You’re important to me .”

He makes a weird sound in his throat and closes his eyes.

I wonder if I said too much. Made things too earnest and emotionally vulnerable. He’s not a man who opens up easily or often.

When his body relaxes again, I decide it’s fine. He wants the topic to be over, but he’s not withdrawing or shutting me out. He’s supposed to be enjoying the massage. Not being pulled out of his comfort zone by my questions and confessions. So I stay quiet as I work on his feet, pleased when his thick exhales start turning into soft groans.

I ask him to turn over after a few minutes, and I’m happy to see he’s more than halfway aroused already. The intense conversation clearly didn’t get in the way of his physical responses.

Slowly I work my way up his body. His eyes have opened now, and he’s watching me, his focus shifting between my face and my loose breasts. He’s fully aroused when I reach his groin, his erection tenting the soft fabric of his sleep shorts.

My eyes meet his as I change positions, shifting my folded legs so I can lean over and reach his cock perpendicular to his body. I’m still upright when he lifts one of his hands to touch my left breast.

I suck in a sharp gasp.

“Is this okay?” he asks hoarsely, moving his hand so he can rub gentle circles on my tightening nipple with his thumb.

“Of course. You can touch me anytime you’d like.”

His hand moves to caress my other breast, and it feels so good—and so surprising—that sensation slices down directly from my breasts to my pussy.

After a minute he slides his big hand up the line of my neck until he’s cupping my face. He stares at me for a minute, then holds my head in both his hands and guides it down toward his hard cock.

I take him in my mouth, using the same speed and rhythm he wanted yesterday. He really gets into it, breathing loud and rough. He’s mumbling out compliments about how good I’m doing and how hot and tight my mouth is, and he’s directing the motion of my head with strong, needy hands.

I’m just as into it as he is. I’m so turned on I can’t stop whimpering wetly around the thick substance of him in my mouth. I’m even rocking my hips slightly, leaning over so far that my bottom is slightly higher than the rest of me.

We manage to make it last a long time, although it takes restraint from both of us to hold back. Then finally he grips my hair hard in both fists and falls into a series of fast, jerky thrusts from below just before he comes.

I swallow down his ejaculate and stroke his belly as I take him through the final lingering spasms of his release. I like how his abdomen feels. He’s mostly flat there but not entirely. It’s the softest part of his body, and there’s a trail of hair that leads downward.

He keeps holding my head in place in his normal manner, so I keep sucking him until he’s soft, but he shifts his right hand to gather some of my hair and move it out of the way so he can see my face. Then he trails his fingers down the line of my spine until he’s stroking the curve of my ass. He has to lift his shoulder slightly to reach it.

I’m not sure why he’s doing it. He’s never done something like that before. But it feels so good I hear myself making a little moan around his warm flesh in my mouth.

When he releases my head, I begin to straighten up, but he doesn’t let me. He uses both hands to readjust my body so that my butt is pointed in his direction. He gently pushes my upper body back down and starts rubbing my ass again.

I’m starting to shake and not merely from arousal. His fingers are getting more presumptuous. Sliding down the line of my butt crack.

I wouldn’t be opposed to him exploring my asshole, but he doesn’t. He goes farther until he’s rubbing the entrance to my pussy.

I’m so wet he’ll definitely feel it even without any penetration.

Then he’s suddenly pushing a finger all the way in.

I make a helpless sound as my entire body twitches.

He pumps his finger in and out, spilling the moisture and making me hide my face in the bedding to moan.

“I’m sorry,” I manage to force out when I’ve controlled myself again.

“Why are you sorry?” He sounds different. Not relaxed and sated the way he normally is after coming. He’s still soft, but he’s also almost excited.

“I’m not supposed to—” My words cut off when he pumps his finger again, generating ripples of pleasure all through me. “Oh no. I’m not supposed to… to… get turned on.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because it’s… it’s not about me.” I have to bury my face in the covers again so I can let out a loud, shameless cry of pleasure. From nothing more than one of his fingers inside me. “It’s not supposed to be about… about me.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. You can’t stop yourself from getting turned on.” He’s withdrawn the one finger and joined it with a second. He’s thrusting more purposefully now. “So you got aroused just from doing me?”

“Y-yes,” I admit. “I didn’t… mean to.” There’s so much moisture in my mouth I have to suck it back to keep from drooling. I’m whimpering almost constantly now as the speed and force of his pumping increases. “But I can’t help it.”

“Of course you can’t help it. You shouldn’t have to. That’s the most ridiculous rule out of all the ridiculous rules in this place. Fuck, you’re sexy as hell like this. Look at you. So turned on you’re trying to fuck my hand.”

I am. My bottom is rocking back toward the pumping of his fingers. Then, before I know to expect it, my pussy clamps down tightly around the penetration in fast spasms of release. I try to muffle my sobs of pleasure in the bed, but I’m not entirely successful.

He keeps pushing against the contractions until they’ve finally worked their way through my body. I gasp wetly as he strokes until my body is completely still.

Then he pulls his hand away. “There,” he says, giving me a little pat on the bottom. “Now you should feel better.”

I giggle, half thrilled and half embarrassed. I straighten up and rearrange myself so I’m sitting on folded legs, facing him. “You’re really not mad or upset?” I ask, searching his expression so I can make sure he’s not lying to me.

“Of course I’m not,” he tells me gravely.

I nod, relieved because it’s so clear he means it. “Okay. Thank you. Can I finish up the massage?”

“Yes. Please do.”

Relaxed and more physically sated than I can ever remember being, I massage his chest, arms, neck, and head. Like yesterday, he lets go so deeply that he drifts off to sleep after mumbling that I should wake him up in an hour because he’s got a lot of work to do today.

Gabriel wasn’t supposed to have any meetings today, but he gets summoned into a discussion in the president’s office just after noon. When he returns, he’s holding a package wrapped in brown paper.

“Did they give you a present?” I’ve never seen him bring back a package like that before.

“No. This was just delivered. I ordered it a while ago.” He looks uncharacteristically stiff as he comes over to my window alcove. “It’s for you.”

I put down my knitting and drop my legs to the floor. “For me?”

“Yes.” After a brief hesitation, he thrusts it at me. “I got it from the same antique dealer who got me your music box.”

My mouth has dropped open for a moment before I summon the sense to close it as I reach for the small package. “But why?”

He frowns. “Because I thought you would like it. Why else?”

His gruff tone is enough of a clue for me to stop questioning the gift. I carefully pull off the neatly wrapped paper and lift the lid off the box.

Inside is an antique pendant on a chain. The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life.

“It’s a cameo locket. From around the same time period as your music box.”

There are raised wildflowers of ivory on a pink oval background, surrounded by silver sculpted into delicate coils and curls.

“It’s beautiful,” I whisper.

“It’s a locket, so it opens up.”

Very carefully I find the tiny latch and open the front. Inside, there’s a small space, but it’s empty. “What do I put here?”

“Whatever you want. People used to use it for snips of hair from people who died or photographs of loved ones.”

“Oh.” I finally manage to wrench my eyes from the pendant so I can gaze up at Gabriel. “I love it. I can’t believe you got it for me. So I should wear it around my neck?”

“If you want. You don’t have to.” He’s trying for his normal brisk manner, but he looks kind of edgy. Like the same kind of emotion shuddering inside me is shuddering inside him too.

“I want to.” I give the lovely carved wildflowers of the cameo a quick caress before I move my hair and then unhook the chain. I’m trying to latch it again at the back of my neck when Gabriel steps over to do it for me.

His fingers brush against the nape of my neck. His breathing is fast. Uneven.

“Thank you,” I murmur with one little wobble. “I love it. No one has ever given me something like this before. Except you when you gave me the music box.”

He clears his throat and turns toward his desk. “You’re welcome. You deserve it. You…”

“I what?”

“You make everything better for me.”

I revel in those words for the next hour as I get my sketchpad and start a drawing of Gabriel. A small one. The size of the locket.

I don’t have access to photographs. No one does. We have the technology, of course. It’s used for government purposes, but regular people don’t get to indulge in something so trivial and purposeless.

So I draw Gabriel instead. And when he’s in the bathroom, I quickly cut the image out in an oval.

I fit it into the locket and snap it closed again.

He works for the rest of the afternoon.

We had a long morning session that was obviously very satisfying for him, so I figure like yesterday he won’t need his normal break. It’s late afternoon, and I’m happily knitting and daydreaming about what Gabriel and I might do tomorrow morning—and occasionally sneaking quick glances at my beautiful locket—when I’m suddenly aware that he’s looking at me.

I smile in his direction. “How’s it going?”

“I’ve gotten a lot done today, but I’m starting to lose focus.” He rubs his forehead in that way he does when he’s getting stressed.

“Oh. Do you want to take a break? Maybe that will help.” I ask the question instinctively even though it probably makes me sound overly eager.

His mouth tightens briefly. “Do you mind? You worked on me a long time this morning.”

“Of course I don’t mind!” I’m beaming as I put down my knitting and get up. “I was afraid you might not want to take the time after this morning, but you do focus better afterward.”

“Yeah. I definitely do.” He’s smiling too as he makes that little summoning gesture with his hands that I love. “We’ll just have to keep it short.”

“Fifteen minutes okay?”

“Yeah.”

I rub his shoulders for a few minutes until he’s closed his eyes and slowed his breathing. Then I move around his chair, kneel in front of him, and undo his trousers.

He takes my head in his hands as I slide my lips about halfway down his shaft. “Oh fuck, you feel so good.”

I make a pleased, encouraging sound as I start to suck.

He moves my head at the rhythm he wants as I fall easily into a practiced motion with my head, mouth, and throat.

It makes me so happy. That he needs this. That he wants it so much.

“I’m not sure how I still need more after you did me so good this morning, but I do.” He tilts his head back with a long, sensual moan. “Fuck, I can’t get enough.”

His words are turning me on as much as his physical responsiveness. My body is already buzzing with building arousal.

“Sometimes I’ll be in the middle of a meeting, and all I can think about is getting your hot little mouth on me like this.”

The excited hum that spills out of my throat is as much emotional as it is physical arousal. I can’t believe he said that. I can’t believe he means it.

“I’ve never been this horny in my entire life. Not even when I was a teenager.” He scoots his hips a little closer to the edge of the chair. “I have no idea what’s happening to me. Fuck, you’re driving me crazy with that mouth.”

I’m sucking for all I’m worth and so excited that I’m digging my fingernails into the firm flesh at the top of his ass. I can’t keep quiet, and my eyes are slanted up toward his face because I want to see his expression.

He’s staring down at me with a heated possessiveness that thrills me.

His body is tightening up in preparation, but he’s still talking. “Take me a little deeper now. I think you can handle it.”

I focus on softening my throat to get more of him in my mouth.

“There you go. That’s what I needed.” His hips have started to make that primitive motion they always do when he’s losing control. “You’re doing so good. You always take me down so good.”

I’m so into it that I’m nearly as loud as he is as all the tension in his body breaks in spasms of release. His semen spurts out hard, and his whole body makes a thrashing motion in his chair as he works through his climax.

I keep sucking him through it, still moaning softly as he finally collapses back in his seat, sated and spent.

“What the hell is wrong with me?” he asks with a hoarse, very soft bewilderment. “Why can’t I get enough of this?”

I make a stretched sound in response, giving his softening cock a few final sucks before he lets go of my head. I straighten up and smile at him, breathless and trying not to drool. “Nothing is wrong with you. You’ve gone too long never giving yourself any kind of downtime or release.”

“Is that what it is?” he asks, cupping my face with a slight smile on the corners of his mouth.

“I think so. It’s my job to give that to you, and you’re finally letting me.”

He moves his thumb to skate over my slightly swollen lips. “Thank you, baby.”

I try not to fall into giddy giggles over his continued use of the endearment. No one else is ever called baby here. Just me. By him. “You’re welcome. It makes me happy.”

“It certainly looks like it makes you happy.” He’s still stroking my mouth with his thumb. “You look like sunshine after a storm. A warm afternoon after a frost.”

I can’t seem to stop smiling up at him, still kneeling between his legs.

We stare at each other for another minute before I remember he was worried about the time. I tuck him back in his clothes and fasten the buttons of his trousers before I stand up. “Maybe you can focus on work now.”

“Maybe.” He stops me as I’m walking back toward the window seat. “Wait, Jess. Come here.”

I turn around and return to stand by the chair.

He bunches up the skirt of my dress until he can slip a hand between my legs, then moves my underwear so he can feel my pussy.

It’s wet. Very wet. Just as wet as this morning.

His lips part. “You’re turned on again. Even after a quick one?”

I swallow. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop staying sorry. I don’t want to hear you apologize again for something that’s not wrong and not your fault.”

“Okay.” I drop my eyes, uncertain about the sudden sternness of his tone.

“You should have told me you get turned on by doing me,” he says, re-angling his hand so he can slide two fingers all the way into my pussy.

I gasp and drop my head backward. “I wasn’t… wasn’t supposed to… feel this way.”

“I don’t care what you’re supposed to do. I had no idea all this time. And this was something I needed to know.”

I give another gulp and reach out to hold on to the back of his chair since my knees are feeling wobbly as he’s starting to fuck me with his fingers the way he did this morning. “Okay. I didn’t know… I didn’t know you’d want to know.”

“Now you do.” He’s staring up at me as he pumps his hand between my legs. It takes me less than a minute to come, choking on a loud moan of pleasure and having to fight to stay on my feet as my body shakes through the spasms.

“There,” he says, withdrawing his hands and sliding the two fingers into his mouth to lick them clean.

I stare at him, hot and dazed and still strangely needy. “Thank you.”

He smiles at me, an odd expression on his face. Half amused and half tender. “You’re welcome.”

I go to the bathroom to catch my breath and wash my hands and face. Then I return to my window seat to keep knitting.

For some reason I end up not knitting anymore. I admire my locket for a while since Gabriel is completely focused on work. Then I’m feeling so good all over that I take a nap instead.