Chapter 13 #2
He shuts off the SUV, and by now, I know the drill—I follow his rules quietly so I can avoid another confrontation with Gabe, because the sharp edge of his tongue is lethal.
He climbs out of the vehicle, and I follow out my door, waiting for him to unlock the house.
Then I stand just inside while he checks every room for intruders.
“It’s clear,” he says when he comes back down the stairs.
“Thanks,” I respond quietly, avoiding his eyes. “Have a good night, Gabe. I’ll see you in the morning.”
I walk past him to head up to my bedroom for that bath.
Once I know he’s settled for the night, I might come back down for a bottle of wine.
The tension in my neck and shoulders is killing me.
I just want out of these clothes. With or without the wine, it hardly matters. I just need to get out of his presence.
“So who’s real?” he asks snidely.
“What?” I rub my temples.
I’m not sure what he’s asking, and I don’t have it in me to play his dangerous games.
I don’t know why he hates me so much and likely, I never will.
And I can be just fine with that. Honestly, I can’t wait for this weird and terrifying period of my life to be over, even if my career ends with it.
I’m not sure how much more pressure I can survive.
“Which version is the real you?” he asks again. “The sex kitten or the daddy’s girl?”
“Both.” I shrug as I answer.
He wants me in some neat little box so he can file me away. Well fuck that. Because I’m messy and a little wild, but I’m so much more.
“Or maybe they’re both an act, fresa,” he says as he prowls toward me.
“What do you care?” I ask him. “What do you want from me, Gabe? I’m tired of playing these games.”
“Which one are you?” he pushes.
“I told you. I’m exactly what you see,” I say tiredly.
“Bullshit, fresa,” he replies, calling me the name I don’t understand again.
And I just snap.
“You know what? Fuck you, Gabe,” I bite out.
“I’d rather fuck you.”
“What?” I gasp, but it’s too late.
Gabe pulls me into his arms and crushes his mouth down to mine. The kiss is raw and it’s real, all teeth and lips and tongues, both of us never getting our fill of the other as we rip and pull at clothing right there in the entryway of my house.
He whips my top over my head and throws it to the floor while I slide my hands under his T-shirt, letting my nails rake over his abs.
I push the fabric up as high as I can before he grabs the material behind his neck and pulls it off.
Then his mouth is back on mine, biting and nipping as he works my belt from my jeans.
I back away from him and try to catch my breath. Can I do this? Should I do this? It’s careless and rash and stupid. I shouldn’t play with fire or with a man like Gabe, but I also can’t stay away. With the way he burns me up, I feel like Icharus flying too close to his glorious sun.
And that’s my answer. Stupid or not. I’m going to take what he’s offering. This time, I know the score. Gabe is not mine to keep.
I pop the button on the top of my jeans and pull down the zipper. I take in the way he watches me as I push the material down my thighs and then step out of them. I stand in the middle of the living room in a light-pink lace thong and matching strapless bra, smirking at the hungry look on his face.
Then I turn on my heel and run as fast as I can to the stairs. I don’t hear him chasing me, maybe he didn’t feel like putting in the work when he could have a sure thing. Halfway up the stairs, an arm wraps around my bare middle, and I let out a squeak.
“You’ll pay for that, fresa,” he growls as he leans into me.
I drop to my hands and knees on the stairs.
My back is to him when he grabs the sides of my panties and pulls them down my legs, exposing the most intimate part of me.
I try to crawl up the steps, but it must be the wrong thing to do, because he grabs my thighs in his big, rough hands, and then his mouth is on me.
His tongue spears my center, and he does not let up as he eats me savagely.
“Yes,” I pant, tossing my head back.
I rock against his mouth as he destroys me one brutal kiss at a time. I gasp and call out his name as I come, and then he flips me to my back and looms over me. His golden eyes burn into my blue ones as he cups my pussy in a show of ownership.
I’m lost to him, caught in his hold over me, and I watch as he sinks a finger into my pussy. My eyes close, and I dig my nails into the carpeted treads of the stairs as he pumps his finger in and out of me.
When he adds a second, my eyes fly open and it feels like my body is slowly catching fire again. I haven’t yet caught my breath, but when his thumb scrapes against my sensitive clit, I don’t care that I’ll never breathe again.
“Gabe,” I gasp.
“That’s right.”
I grab his wrist. I don’t know whether it’s to stop him or to hold him where I need him. I just hold him while he works me, and I arch my back and rock my hips into his hand, chasing an orgasm I’ve never wanted more in my life.
“Not yet,” he says when I’m so close I could come with a single little flick of his clever thumb, but instead he pulls away from where I need him.
“No,” I cry out, but then he’s moving up and taking me with him as he throws me over his shoulder and lands a hard swat to my ass that cracks through the quiet house and makes my pussy clench,
I moan. “Yes.”
He lets out a grunt as he drops my back to the bed, and I watch, riveted, as he kicks off his boots and shucks off his jeans. In the waning light of the evening, he is nothing short of beautiful.
“Show me your tits,” he commands.
I reach behind me and unhook my bra, letting it fall to the floor. I want him to touch me like he did in the locker room.
“Touch them. Show me how you want it.”
I cup my breasts and let my thumbs skate over the hard tips. My back arches and I press my legs together. I was close before he carried me in here, and now I feel like I might die if I don’t come.
“Does that pretty pussy hurt?” he asks. His voice low, gritty and almost distracting as I watch him squeezing the root of his fat cock in his fist. God, he’s huge. So thick my fingers didn’t touch when I wrapped them around him.
“Uh-huh.” I nod.
“Good, baby. Spread your legs and show me where it hurts.” I do as he says and let my legs fall open. “Touch yourself. Show me, but don’t come.”
“Gabe,” I plead.
“Don’t. Come,” he orders. “If you do, I’ll be mad.”
“Yes,” I pant, unsure if I want him to be mad at me or not.
I trail my hand down my belly, from my breasts to between my legs, feeling my own wetness there, and moan. I put pressure on my clit, and my legs begin to shake.
“Don’t come, baby,” he says, stroking his cock in his fist. Tracking my movements.
“No,” I whisper, but I’m shaking so bad. My whole body quakes as my orgasm builds, and I rub my center faster and faster.
“Don’t come.”
And then it happens. Sensation rolls over me like a tidal wave, and I gasp his name as I find my release.
“Gabe.”
“I do like my name on your lips when you come, baby,” he says as he wraps his hand around my ankle and flips me to my belly, my pussy still quivering. “But I told you not to.”
His palm lands flat on my backside, and my skin stings.
Then another one cracks against the other cheek, and it burns too.
And then each of my upper thighs, but the burn is morphing, building into something else. I anticipate it. I want it. I want more.
He grips my hips in his hands and pulls me up to my knees, his hand pressing on my back, shoving my chest into the bed. He uses his thigh to push my legs wide, and then he’s there.
I feel him—the very tip of him—at my center. I hold my breath in anticipation, and it whooshes out of my lungs in a big gust as he drives deep inside me. His hands on my hips keep me on my knees; otherwise, the power behind his thrust would have knocked me flat.
And then he moves, plunging in and out of my waiting pussy in sure and strong strokes.
With his knees holding my legs open, his palm at my back pressing me down, and his hand at my hip pinning me in place for him, I’m at his mercy.
I can do nothing but take him, take his fucking, and I don’t want anything else.
My senses are overwhelmed. Even though I just came, pressure is building within me again in a way I know there is no holding it back. And not just that, but when this wave crashes down upon me, it will ravage me in a way no other ever has.
“Navarro,” I pant. I’m close, so very close to the edge.
“Gabe,” he growls in reply as he pounds into me. He thrusts his hand up my back and into my hair, gripping it, pulling it, twisting my head so I can see him over my shoulder. He looks savage and fierce as he takes me. “When I fuck you, you call me Gabe.”
“Gabe,” I cry out as pleasure rolls over me like a thunderstorm. My body shakes, and I’m helpless to do anything but dig my fingertips into the mattress and hold on.
“Fuck, yes,” he growls as he pounds into me harder and harder. His name on my lips seems to make him lose all control, and he fucks me wildly.
He drives deep one last time, holding me tight. So tight I’ll have marks on my hip from his fingertips in the morning, and then he comes.
Before his cock even begins to soften, he pulls out, and I miss the feel of him connected to me, surrounding me with his size and strength.
It’s like a crash on the track that you, and everyone else, can see coming, but we’re all helpless to stop it. Throughout the whole thing, I watch in horror as Gabe practically runs out of my room, leaving me naked, his cum still warm on my thighs. And not once does he look back.
He stalks out, slamming the door behind him in a way that screams of finality. Forget looking back, he is not coming back.
I knew the score and I played the game. I thought I could win, but as it turns out, I’m always on the losing team.
I’m always alone.