Twenty-Five
Eve
We stay confined to the apartment for the next few days. I’m not sure if it’s for my benefit or Gabriel’s. I give up trying to keep track of his moods as he vacillates between stern, chatty, and depressed. It’s probably normal for someone grieving, but very disconcerting in a captor.
I never know what to expect.
We’ve run through what I have to do at the ceremony so many times I can do it with my eyes closed. I might on the day, because then I won’t have to see everyone watching me. I’ve asked Gabriel several times what happens if I misbehave on the night, but he never gives me a straight answer.
The way his face hardens, though, makes my guts churn every time.
Every night, I sleep in Gabriel’s arms. He doesn’t give me any choice about it, but even if he did, I’m not sure I’d fight him. Since I arrived here, I haven’t had a single nightmare about the night Cole kidnapped me. The cynical part of my brain reminds me it’s just because that horror has been replaced with a new, even worse one, but I don’t think that’s the reason .
Gabriel’s jacket comforted me at night, and now the man himself seems to have the same effect, at least where sleep is concerned. Bizarre but true.
He hasn’t taken my virginity yet, though he’s done just about everything else I can imagine. I’ve spent so much time with his cock down my throat I’m almost starting to like the feeling. There’s something liberating about the way he uses me, about understanding I’m at his mercy.
One night, I drift off to sleep as usual, tucked in tight against Gabriel. But when I wake, morning light isn’t streaming through the blinds. It’s pitch-black, without even the soft glow from the nightlight. I’m groggy, hardly awake at all, and almost doze back off when a sensation snaps me awake.
Something rubs over my clit.
It jolts me awake, and I yell, snapping my legs together in an automatic response. Or trying to, at least. They won’t move, locked in place, spread wide apart. I try to sit up, but my hands are secure, too, stretched to the corners of the bed. I’m totally helpless, spreadeagled on the bed.
Gabriel’s laugh reaches me from down the bed before he licks over my exposed center again. A jolt of needy pleasure hits me along with the shock.
“Finally awake? My God, you’re a heavy sleeper. I thought you might never wake up.”
This time, his fingers join his tongue, sliding into me easily as he circles my clit. From the way they move, I can tell I’m already soaked. How long has he been touching me? Have I been responding to him in my sleep? I’m glad of the darkness hiding the blush I’m sure must be staining my cheeks.
“What are you doing?” I manage to ask as he twists his fingers in a very distracting way.
“I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d play with my new toy.”
That word. As if to emphasize it, he pulls his hand from inside me and rubs the wetness over my lips. I yelp and twist my head, but it’s no use. The taste of my own arousal hits me as he moves lower again, teasing my nipples.
I can’t move. I’m completely vulnerable and should be terrified. The fear is there, curling in my belly, but the need is stronger. My body is already way ahead of my mind, and the rational part of me can’t catch up.
Before I can speak, his tongue slides over my clit again. It makes me jump with a burst of adrenaline before the shock turns to pleasure once more. Nothing about this is right. What kind of man touches a sleeping woman? But my body doesn’t care. My lips part, and my breath comes faster as he sets to work in earnest, finding the rhythm my body can’t resist.
It doesn’t take long. Only minutes after waking, my fingers are clutching at the sheets as Gabriel’s tongue pushes me over the edge. I moan as my climax surges, arching my back to press myself into him. When did I get so brazen? The dark helps. It’s like a safety blanket, letting me focus on the sensations burning through me.
Gabriel pulls away as my body settles. When he speaks next, it comes from close to my ear. It’s disconcerting not knowing where he is. “Do you know, when I play with you in your sleep, you react straight away? I’ve never seen anything like it. Your body is begging to be touched. How did you deny it to yourself for so long?”
I feel him settle himself next to me, and his hand cups my breast as he waits for an answer. Not moving, not doing anything, just resting there comfortably like it’s no big deal. Something about the gesture, the ease of it, is more intimate than what just happened, and again, I’m glad of the dark .
But this isn’t something I want to talk about. I try to distract him. “Aren’t you going to untie me? We should sleep.”
“No, you can stay like this for a while. And if you avoid my question again, it’ll be the whole night. Might get uncomfortable.” He pinches my nipple for emphasis. “And you’re not going back to sleep until you’ve come at least twice more.”
I draw in a breath. Two more times? No way. But sure enough, his hand slides down to the hot place between my thighs, which still throbs in the lazy aftershocks of my climax. He touches my clit, and I hiss at the sensitivity. “I can’t.”
“You will. You’ve got a lot of time to make up for. Now, talk to me. Did you ever make yourself come? Or was I the first? I need to know.”
His fingers touch me lightly as he talks, and I wonder which answer he’s hoping for. Almost all my firsts belong to him. He’s the first man to see me naked and the first I’ve ever seen. The first cock I’ve ever touched. Is he dying to lay claim to this first, too? It isn’t something I’ve ever talked about.
My mouth dries at the thought of talking about it with him, but suddenly there’s a part of me that wants to. Maybe it’s the sleepy aftermath of the orgasm or the way his clever fingers are already bringing me back to life. Or maybe it’s just that there’s no one else in the world I could tell.
The protective cloak of darkness helps the words come out. “I shared a room with my sisters until I moved out, but once I had my own space, I tried.”
My mind slides back to those first few weeks after I left home. Somehow, I’d thought all the shame I felt would disappear like a puff of magic smoke once I had my own space, but it didn’t.
“You tried. But what happened?”
I breathe in, and it stutters as I remember the frustration. “I couldn’t get there. I could get close, but… ”
I break off. It had been torture. I’d always been able to feel the edge of release, but I could never give myself permission to dive over it.
“You couldn’t finish? At all?”
There’s curiosity, but none of the pity I’d been dreading. His fingers pick up their pace, and pressure begins to build again at my center. I don’t want to admit it, but at the same time, I do. It’s another on the long, long list of things I feel ashamed about, and Gabriel seems to be the cure for all that. The longer I spend in his captivity, the less shame I feel.
“No. Not until you.”
There it is. I brace for the sorrowful voice, for the “Oh, you poor thing.” I’ve never told anyone because I couldn’t stand to hear how shocked and horrified they’d be. I’m glad I can’t see Gabriel’s face.
“Good.”
It’s said with savage triumph, so unlike the reaction I’d been expecting that I pull against the restraints, trying to sit up. “What?”
“I said good. It means you needed me to force you. Aren’t you glad I did?”
The audacity stuns me to silence. His hand speeds up, and my body careens toward the edge, again, even as my mind clutches onto outrage. How dare he. I manage, “No. I’m not.”
Gabriel laughs but doesn’t stop what he’s doing. I’m helpless, carried over into a second climax. This one feels different, both less and more intense all at once. It’s a slow, drawn-out pulse of desire that thrums to a crescendo with every stroke of his hand. As I crest, my core tightens harshly, and I cry out at the sudden, unexpected pain mingled with the pleasure.
It’s so strange, a mixed-up clash of feelings, and I’m breathing hard by the time my body returns to almost normal. My clit still throbs, raw and sensitive, and I hiss as Gabriel draws his fingernail over it.
“I think that proves you’re a little liar, doesn’t it? I’ll never give you a choice. Admit it. You love me forcing you.”
I lick my dry lips. There’s an edge to his voice now, and it warns of danger. I should just say what he wants, but it feels too much like accepting my captivity. “No.”
“Stubborn. Okay. I like a challenge.”
He disappears, and all at once, the darkness feels less comforting and more oppressive. Where is he, and what is he doing? I twist my head, trying to catch a hint of movement, but the blackness is absolute. Too absolute, I realize. I’d been too distracted to notice before. I can’t see the tiniest hint of light.
“Gabriel? Why is it so dark in here?” My voice quavers.
His dark, wicked laugh flips my stomach over. “It’s not. I can see you just fine.”
What? I flounder for a moment until I catch up. How stupid of me. A blindfold. Now that I know it’s there, I can feel it on my face. My skin flushes. My indecent, spreadeagled position suddenly feels very, very exposed.
“I wondered when you’d figure it out. You’re so much more relaxed when you think I can’t see you. It’s adorable.”
The light, mocking edge to his words raises my hackles. “Untie me!”
“Absolutely not.”
A familiar buzzing noise fills the air, and I tense. I’m still so sensitive, and besides that, the trick with the blindfold has brought back some of the anger I should have been feeling all along. I want to stomp away and lock myself in the bathroom. Not that it has a lock. No such thing as privacy here.
But I can’t do anything other than yelp as he presses the vibrator against my throbbing clit. He’s got it turned up high, and there’s none of his usual teasing, touching it and pulling away. It’s too much immediately, my body isn’t ready, and I try to shift away, but he won’t let me.
“Gabriel. I can’t…”
“Yes, you can. You don’t get a choice. Remember?”
The helplessness overwhelms me. I’m on display for him, no way to hide or control what he does to me. My head swims, and my muscles slacken as the vibrations batter me. I’m powerless as the chaotic sensation shifts and pushes me toward the edge yet again. A desperate whimper escapes.
“There you go. You’re such a good girl. You didn’t think you could manage another one, but you can. Just relax. Let it happen.”
His voice is strained, as if he’s struggling with something, and I must be getting to know him as well as he is me because I recognize it. Even though I can’t see him, I know what he’s doing. He’s touching himself.
“Please…” Please what? I’m not even sure anymore. I’m a fish on a hook, pulled toward something I can’t stop. This time, the climax is sudden and brutal. A brick dropped on my gut, pleasure tangled up with pain. If I’d been free, I’d have doubled over.
As I moan, Gabriel’s groan mixes with mine, and liquid splatters across my face and lips. Because he can. Because he owns me and can do whatever he wants to me. Why does it still come as such a shock?
Our mingled heavy breathing fills the room as Gabriel turns off the vibrator. I want to wipe my face, but of course, I can’t. A shudder runs through me at the thought. Why doesn’t that disgust me?
I don’t hate it. I don’t hate lying here, immobile and covered in his come. I don’t hate that he just forced pleasure on me. That he touched me in my sleep. Why? Why don’t I hate it? Gabriel kisses my forehead, and I want to see him. I want to see the expression on his face as he looks at me.
As if he’s a mind reader and not just a stage magician, he tips my head forward and slides the blindfold off. I blink as light floods my vision, then clears to show me his face. I lick my lips, tasting him, and he smiles. “Told you so.”
His hair is messy, and his chest is bare. Just seconds ago, he seemed like an omnipotent force of nature, controlling my every move. Now, he looks very human. And very, very pleased with himself.
“You look so beautiful like that. I might never let you wash your face.”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. What the heck do you say to that? He holds the vibrator up, hefting it like a weapon. I stare at it. He presses the button, and the buzzing is as menacing as a hive of wasps. My body tenses just at the thought of him pressing it to me all over again.
I swallow as he turns it off again. “You’ve got a choice. I can keep going with this for the rest of the night, or you can be honest. Admit you like it when I force you to come. Tell me the truth. Then I’ll untie you.”
I whimper as he presses the head of the vibrator against my clit. The sensitive spot screams in protest. No. I can’t take any more. I’ll just tell him what he wants to hear and be done with it.
But is he right?
I don’t want to think about it, but I can’t avoid it. There’s something so depressing about the memories of all the times I tried, and failed, to give myself pleasure. I remember how hard I worked to shut myself down to the possibility of it once the frustration became too hard to bear. If my thoughts strayed that direction, I cut them off.
Sad. An old movie, faded and lacking color.
I’d been trapped in a cage of my own making, and Gabriel ripped it open even as he brought me into a new prison. Since him, everything is in vivid color, full of sensation. I don’t want to be a captive. But can I honestly say I wish he’d never made me feel that way?
No. I can’t.
It’s hard, but I make myself say the words. “I like it. I enjoy what you do to me.”
The surface of Venus couldn’t hold a candle to my burning face. Gabriel blinks, dark eyes wide, but the pride in his voice is unmistakable as he says, “I know. But I love hearing you say it.”
Deep in my chest, a warm ember glows. Gabriel makes good on his promise and unties me before dimming the lights and pulling me close against him. I lick my lips, and the salty taste reminds me I’m still covered in him. I try to rise. “I need to wash—”
“Not a chance. One more word about it, and I’ll send you to brunch with Portia filthy.”
He wouldn’t. Would he? I squirm against his arm before relenting. Whether he means it or not, I won’t win this battle. I should be exhausted, but I’m not. Gabriel’s hand plays with my hair as we lie there together, neither of us sleeping.
He’s still such an enigma. He’s forced out all my secrets, but there’s still so much I don’t know about him. Restless, I blurt out a question that’s been bothering me for days. “Why stage magic? It’s such a weird hobby. And you never told me how you did the levitation trick. ”
He shifts around so we’re face-to-face, and even in the dim light, I can see the amused look on his face. “Weird hobby. Thanks.”
“Well, it is, for a scientist. Why do you do it?”
He twirls a piece of my hair around his finger as he considers. “I used to love watching stage magic as a kid. Figuring out how the tricks were done. It always annoyed me when I couldn’t work it out.”
I make a low noise of agreement.
“I started working on tricks for fun. Simple things at first, just to impress my mom, but as I got older, I got fascinated with it and learned some more impressive stuff. I was always the nerdy kid at school. You can probably relate to that.”
“Me? No, I was the head cheerleader.”
He snorts at my joke and gives my hair a sharp tug. “Sure you were. Anyway, there was a talent show. I had a few friends, and they pushed me into doing it. I was so nervous, sure I’d make an absolute dick of myself, but it actually went well. People loved it. I had fun. So I kept doing it. Just at local places. I never wanted to go to Vegas or anything.”
It’s such an honest response, and it relaxes me. I wanted to know something, and he told me, without any deflections or mind games. And for the first time, I can marry up the two versions of Gabriel in my head. The mysterious magician and the man whose hand is now playing with my ear in a way that’s making my toes curl.
“And the trick? The levitation?”
His fingers still. “Now that, I’m keeping quiet. A magician never reveals his secrets.”