Chapter 20 Job Description
TWENTY
JOB DESCRIPTION
The next morning, I woke with Gabe’s hand on my belly.
And him calling, “Baby, time to hit it.”
I opened my eyes.
He was standing beside the bed.
I was groggy.
Though, I wasn’t so groggy I didn’t comprehend that I preferred that face, beard, body, and the man they all belonged to in my bed, not standing beside it.
He was grinning massively.
“Whad dime iz id?” I mumbled.
I wouldn’t think his grin could get bigger, but it did when I mumbled that.
He then said, “It’s five to four.”
What human in their right mind would be standing beside a bed, awake and alert at five to four, and do this smiling massively?
Concerned I’d woken up in an episode of Black Mirror, I pushed up on my elbows and shoved the sleep from my brain (well, most of it, again, it was five to four).
“Why are you grinning?” I asked.
“Look at you.”
I gazed down at myself.
We slept in the nude (though, Gabe had his boxer briefs on now).
I wasn’t a nude sleeper.
I had no issue being that with Gabe.
But the covers were up over my breasts, and other than that, it was just my body in my bed hitting my eyes.
I turned back to look up at him, bewildered.
“You’re on your back,” he stated.
“And?” I pushed.
“I woke up with you sprawled beside me, taking up most of the bed.”
I had a queen, so me sprawling would mean I did, indeed, take up most of the bed.
“Dang, I’m sorry,” I muttered, moving to get out from under the covers so I could face the day (guh).
I didn’t get very far because, suddenly, Gabe’s face was in my face and his fists were in the bed on either side of me, and as such, he had my full attention.
“Not curled in a ball, protecting yourself from the world. Sprawled beside me,” he whispered.
Oh…
Wow.
“Cute as fuck when you’re all curled up, tucked against me,” he stated. “But I’ll take you sprawled and feeling safe at my side any fuckin’ day.”
Answer to previously asked question: Yes.
Yes, this man could get more awesome.
Yes, My Heart clucked happily. He can.
Yes, Dreamer chimed in. He can in a way that, even if you have a lifetime of him, you’ll never reach the end of that.
Swimming joyfully in that knowledge, he bent and touched his nose to mine before he straightened away and walked out of the room, saying, “Now, get your ass up. Time to shower.”
He needed speak no more words.
Fuck five ’til four.
A shower with Gabe on the agenda?
I was out of bed like a shot.
* * *
Gabe walked by the door while I was in the bathroom, post shower, wearing my short, sage-green-with-pretty-peach-flowers robe along with panties.
And I was bent over the sink doing my makeup.
Seeing him out of the corners of my eyes, I turned my head and gave him a smile.
He stopped and walked into the bathroom.
Since he was only wearing his jeans, and prolonged retinal exposure to his chest might make me late for work due to a visit to the emergency room, with grave effort, I went back to my makeup.
I did this making a mental note to warn him to start wearing a shirt more often, or I was going to chain him to my bed and make him my boytoy.
I forgot I was even holding a shading brush when his hand came to rest on my hip.
My eyes went to him in the mirror to see his eyes riveted to my ass.
Then his hand slid over my hip to my ass.
Oh my.
He engaged the other one, both went down, then up, taking the hem of my robe with them and exposing my panties.
Oh my.
We’d just had a quickie in the shower not twenty minutes ago.
But I guess Gabe wasn’t done.
I locked my legs to remain standing and decided it would be okay to be late for work.
“Like this robe,” Gabe said low.
“I’m getting that,” I husked.
Gabe hooked his thumbs in the sides of my panties and pulled them down to mid-thigh.
So, obviously, I put more effort into keeping my legs underneath me as I began to pant and briefly considered not going to work at all.
He smoothed a hand over my ass before his gaze left that area and came to the mirror, but not to my eyes, seeing as one of his hands was tracking over my hip to my belly while the other one was reaching to open my robe to expose my tits, and as such, he instead had his gaze to my body.
Oh God.
A gust of breath rushed out of me, even though he did what I thought he was going to do—one hand going down to play with my clit, the other one cupping my breast, fingers pinching my nipple.
My head fell back.
Gabe said nothing, and I said nothing as he toyed with me in the bathroom.
No, not true.
I said no intelligible words, but I did make utterances.
A lot of them.
He worked me and he worked me while I trembled in his hold and let him.
Until he slid one long finger inside me.
I moaned.
He slid it out only to go back in with two.
Oh God, yes.
“Nice and slick,” he rumbled in my ear.
I quivered.
He finger fucked me as he took his hand from my breast, worked his fly, then his fingers were gone, and he grunted, “Brace, baby. I’m primed from our shower, so you’re about take a serious fucking.”
No hesitation, I put my hands to the bathroom counter.
Gabe positioned his hard cock and drove in.
Taking him, my head flew back, colliding with his shoulder since he’d bent over me, and I felt his labored breathing against my neck along with the scrape of his beard (a heady combo) as he fastened an arm around my hips to hold me steady and went back to torturing my nipple (though, equal opportunity, he went after the other one this time).
I rocked with him as he fucked me hard against my bathroom vanity, only once having the wherewithal to open my eyes and watch how unbelievably fucking hot we were—me partially exposed, the robe having fallen down one shoulder, Gabe’s dark head at my neck, my red-gold hair intermingled with his close-cropped black and that thick beard, his strong, veined arms holding me, and I could see a hint of his thick, glossy dick driving into me.
Oh yeah.
We were unbelievably hot.
The effort he was putting into it became audible, his grunts mixing with my mews and the sound of our flesh slapping together echoing in the tiny bathroom.
They were primal sounds, and in that moment, I thought they were beautiful.
“Gabe,” I gasped, right before it was about to happen.
He moved his arm at my hips so he could go at my clit with his finger, he did his miracle move, and I came apart.
Bucking against his hold, I heard my makeup stuff shift and slide and clatter into the sink.
“Christ, your hot, wet, tight pussy,” he growled against my ear.
I bucked again.
He sank his teeth into the tender flesh behind my ear and slammed in, my hips connecting with the edge of the counter at the power of his drive, and I liked it, and not just because he was coming.
I was drifting down so I could (kinda) focus on how hard he’d shoved his face in my neck, how broad his shoulders were compared to the width of my body, how wide and full he made me, and how magnificent we were.
He jerked in deeper, and I gasped in surprise (and for other reasons), before he growled, “Your cunt, baby, fuckin’ heaven.”
That wasn’t exactly poetic, but it worked great.
He cupped our sexes in one hand, my breast in the other, and put his chin to my shoulder to look at us in the mirror.
And I would never…
Not ever…
Forget the look of carnal possession, loving affection and complete satisfaction that came over his amazing face when he saw us like that.
Then he thrust in again (and I gasped again) before he declared, “Every inch of you, mine, Willow. You hear me?”
I heard him and felt him, and I was oh-so down with that because every inch of him was mine too.
“I hear you, baby,” I whispered.
He held my gaze in the mirror.
Then he turned his head to kiss the place where he bit me as he pulled out.
He saw to smoothing my panties back in place before he hiked up his jeans.
I had cleanup to do, and even if we’d just fucked over my sink, even if I’d just seen that look on his face, even if I felt the exact same way he did, and even if he’d cleaned me up repeatedly the last couple of days, I wasn’t there yet with him being present while I did it.
But I wasn’t going to get to do it yet.
He turned me, hefted me up and set me on the bathroom counter before he pushed between my legs and caught me with both hands on my neck, right under my jaw.
There was something both forceful and poignant about this, and it made me focus fully on him. Or, more fully than I was already focused.
And yes, there was something poignant about this, I saw it from the new look in his eyes.
“Thank you for listening last night and being so cool,” he said gently.
My first response was to melt into him and wrap my arms around him because that was sweet.
My second response was to tense and get pissed because he didn’t need to thank me, that was what girlfriends did, it was part of the job description.
Thus, I read in his doing so an indication that Ariana not only didn’t bother to ask him about his life, his history, his fucking beloved grandmother who died too young, she also wasn’t all that fired up to help him process the nightmare he’d lived with Denise.
Therefore, I snapped, “Let me guess, Ariana’s self-absorption not only led to her not being there for you when you lost your gran, Ariana’s jealous streak extended to her not being there for you with the Denise stuff.”
His eyes flickered and his mouth said, “Babe.”
Both were confirmations.
It wasn’t all that graceful when I yanked from his hold and twisted out from him between my legs so I could hop to the ground, but I was in such a tizzy, I didn’t care.
Also, it put me in a better position to slam my hands on my hips and screech, “That bitch!”
“Cupcake—”
“Fuck her!” I shouted. “Yes, Gabriel Stark,”—I reached and took one of his hands and slapped it on my chest—“this is yours.” I reached to his other hand and shoved it between my legs. “And that is yours. Every inch, baby. Every fucking inch.”
He tried to gently extricate from my hold, murmuring, “Okay, Willow. I hear you, baby. Chill out.”
“You can tell me anything.”
“Okay, babe.”
“You can because I want to know.”
“I know you do, cupcake.”
Gah!
I let him go, went to the toilet, tugged up my robe, yanked down my panties and sat, unrolling bunches of toilet paper to clean him from me, doing this ranting, “I really hope I never meet her. I’m an Avenging Angel!
I’d fuck her shit up good. I mean, how could she know what you went through, how you found her, you having those nightmares, and not be there for you? ”
He didn’t answer because I was still ranting.
“And I can’t even think about her not listening to you talk about your adventurous grandma!”
“Babe, you’re almost at the end of the roll, and if you toss that heap in the john, it’s gonna clog it.”
I stared down at the massive bunch of toilet paper in my hand.
I looked back at him. “A little privacy, Gabe.”
His lips tipped up. “You already dropped trou and you’re sitting on the bowl, woman, doing it to clean up my cum. I think we’re beyond that.”
Well, I guessed our lightning quick relationship was going to translate into this happening far sooner than it normally would.
At least he busied himself with extricating my makeup from the sink while I saw to business.
I was up, and he waited for me to wash and dry my hands before he caught me by the back of the neck, gave me a hard, dry kiss, and asked, “Refill on coffee?”
Still in his grip, I looked down to the basin, grateful I’d drunk most of the cup he’d already delivered so it hadn’t sloshed over during our recent activities, then back to him.
“Yeah.”
He kissed me, hard but (alas) dry again, let me go, grabbed my cup and went to refill my coffee.
I watched him going thinking Ariana Whatever-Her-Last-Name-Was was the stupidest bitch on the planet.
This is fortunate for you, since, if she wasn’t, you wouldn’t have gotten fucked so good this morning, Real Logic reminded me.
She’s still the stupidest bitch on the planet, Dreamer said.
Agreed, Real Logic replied.
Whatever.
I retrieved my shading brush.
And a few seconds later, Gabe came back with my coffee.
* * *
When we left my apartment that morning, Gabe walked me to my car.
And yeah, again, of course he was that fucking guy who, even though his car was maybe thirty feet from mine, he walked me to mine before he went to his.
I mean, he wasn’t the motherlode, he was a lot more than that, even though I didn’t know what that was.
No.
I did.
He was the freaking Holy Grail of boyfriends.
However, after we exchanged a kiss, and I was about to open my car door to get inside, he stopped me by curving an arm around me.
I turned back to him.
“I’m thinking Geordie’s. Maybe Steak 44,” he said.
“Sorry?” I asked.
“Or we could make it a thing and do Binkley’s.”
My breath caught.
“Binkley’s?” I breathed.
“I’ve always wanted to do one of those one-sitting, chef’s-set-menu gigs,” he said.
I’d always wanted to as well, especially if it was at Binkley’s, a restaurant I couldn’t afford, but I’d been dying to go to it since I heard about it.
“After your thing is done with the Angels,” he stated. “We’ll plan a night.” He grinned. “Wear heels.”
He was talking about doing a “special night.”
And yes again, he was that guy who would mention such a thing to his woman and then follow up on it.
And another yes, I was beginning to reel at how awesome he was (I mean, was there anything more elusive than the Holy Grail? Yes, a fantastic boyfriend!).
And even though all this went through my head, I was stuck on his grin.
He’d woken me up while grinning.
And now we were saying so long for the day, and he was grinning again.
It was fabulous.
It was gorgeous.
And after knowing him for ages where he barely smiled, it was coming out more often.
A lot more.
He gave me sprawling, safe in my sleep.
I gave him that.
And I was oh-so-totally going to take it.
Even so, it pissed me off, possibly beyond reason, what had taken that gorgeous grin away.
Sure, it was Denise.
But it was also Ariana.
However, for the now, I just said, “Totally Binkley’s.”
“Sometime next week,” he decreed. “Give me a night when you don’t have too much on, and I’ll make a reservation.”
There was no other way to respond to that, except what I did.
I threw my arms around him and kissed him with all I had.
And it was one hundred percent wet.
He wound his arms around me and returned it.
He finished it by touching his lips to the mark he’d planted on my neck before letting me go.
“Catch ya later, cupcake,” he bid as I got in my car.
I shot him a sunny smile that I hoped hid that inside I was seething (along with rejoicing because…Binkley’s!).
Then I started up my car and headed to work.