Chapter 21
Gabriel
It’s half past nine. Mrs. Neville went home hours ago. Roman isn’t answering my texts—probably balls deep in a woman he found at the club—and Savanah is still not home.
Aside from the half dozen men wandering the grounds and three stationed at the entrances downstairs, I’m alone.
“Gabriel!” Savvy’s voice calls out.
I quickly slam the book I’ve been skimming shut and hurry to put it back on the shelf but am caught two steps away from victory.
“Gabriel?” Savvy cocks her head. “Are you reading one of my books?”
For the first time in my life, my face heats. “Of course not.”
I shove the book back in its spot that I’ve marked by pulling out the book beside it. I spin to face her, crossing my arms over my chest and leaning against the bookcase.
She laughs. “Yes, you were.” She easily plucks the correct book from the shelf and grins up at me. “You have a thing for vampires?”
“I was just skimming.” I snag it back from her, flipping through the pages with my thumb. “It’s been a long time since I read a book with pictures.”
I stop in the middle where several pages of character art separate the chapters. A man grasping his woman by the throat, two puncture wounds in her neck where he licks the blood away.
“This one is my favorite.” She reaches over the top and turns the page.
This time the woman is tied down to a large boulder, the moon shining bright in the night sky as the vampire feasts on her pussy. More puncture wounds scar her breasts, though from the look of pure ecstasy on her face, she’s not afraid.
“So, when I threatened to tie you to my bed, you weren’t at all frightened?
You pictured this in your mind?” Though instead of the thick chains, I’d use leather straps to bind her to my bed posts.
And instead of bite marks on her beautiful soft breasts, there would be red stripes from the leather flogger I have tucked in my closet.
“What you would do to me tied to the bed is very different than what that fictional vampire was doing,” she says as her cheeks redden.
She takes the book back and re-shelves it.
“What are you doing in here anyway?” She gives the room a once over to see if I’ve moved anything or taken anything from her.
That’s something I’ve noticed about her. When she enters the spaces I’ve given to her, she does an immediate inventory check.
“I was looking for you, then I realized you weren’t home yet.” I make a point of looking at my watch. “I thought you were just going to hang out with Cassie while she packed.”
“I did. But then you sent that text about going out tomorrow night, so she decided we should go shopping.” Her smile falters. “I got a dress and some shoes.”
“Did you use the card I gave you?”
The event I’m taking her to will be filled with Chicago’s political and business elite. Anyone fishing for campaign donations will be casting their hooks out for businesses looking for loopholes, tax cuts, or backdoor deals.
And in order to keep up the appearance of being a legitimate business family, we’ll be attending. I’ve held a man’s still-warm heart in my hands, and it was less repulsive than these dinners.
“I did.” She sighs.
“Good.” I push off the bookshelves. “Are you hungry? Mrs. Neville left dinner in the fridge; I can reheat it for you.”
“You want to reheat dinner for me?” She eyes me as though I’m trying to hand her a piece of acid-laced candy.
“I can manage a microwave, but don’t ask me to cook.”
She makes a face like I’ve just suggested the Queen of England should cook dinner.
“I would never.”
“Okay, smartass. Do you want dinner or not?”
She thinks a moment then shakes her head. “No, thanks. We grabbed food while we were out.”
“On me?” I press when she continues to look like a child caught with their hand stuck in the cookie jar.
“Of course.” She swallows.
“I told you to use the card.” I remind her, slipping my arm around her waist and leading her from the room. “I expect you to use it. If you’re not up for dinner, let’s go upstairs.”
“There’s a movie I’ve been wanting to watch. I was going to put that on for myself. I thought you’d be out tonight.”
The idea of cuddling this woman on the couch with a movie suddenly holds as much appeal as stripping her naked and laying her over my lap. And when I consider it, there’s no reason I can’t have both.
“Let’s do a movie then.”
“Really?” she asks as we begin climbing the stairs. “You want to watch a movie with me?”
“I’d rather have you naked and spread out over my bed, but a movie sounds like a good place to start the evening.”
She considers me for a brief moment then shrugs. “Fine. It’s a romcom. I’ll set it up for us. Why don’t you get changed?”
“You want me to change?” I look down at the black sweater and jeans I’m wearing.
“You need to be in comfy clothes if you’re going to watch a movie. Pajama pants, T-shirt, that sort of thing.”
I eye her. “And what will you be wearing?”
She laughs. “I’m going to change into a pair of shorts and a tank top. Is that good enough for you?”
“I’d still rather it be nothing. But I’m feeling generous tonight. Get the movie on, and we’ll meet back here in a few minutes.” I give her ass a hard slap, leaving her in the sitting room of my suite while I search out the only pair of lounge pants I own.
Once I’m in my comfy clothes, I find her lounging on the couch, remote teetering on her knee and the soft ballad of the movie’s opening credits playing.
I sink into the cushions next to her, draping my arm over the back of the couch.
The movie starts out slow. A woman down on her luck meets a rich man who wants to give her everything, only to find out she’s the daughter of an important business client.
There’s something called a meet-cute that she explains, and then they’re off making all sorts of horrible decisions and having near misses.
Halfway through, she snuggles up to me, leaning her head against my shoulder. I reposition myself, moving her in between my legs so I can hold her closer.
“If you’d like to go to Cassie’s in the morning, I’ll take you,” I offer when her phone lights up on the coffee table with a notification from Cassie. A simple text with a nighttime emoji.
“We have a ritual. I don’t say goodbye when she leaves. It makes it easier when there isn’t someone watching you get all of your things together and march you out.”
I stop stroking her arm. “March you out? Has someone done that to you?”
She shrugs. “I mean, there isn’t always a lot of time when you’re moving between foster homes. Sometimes, you only get a few minutes to get your things together then the social worker takes you. Unless the parents bring you to a drop off.”
“A drop off?” Like some discarded toy left in a bin outside a consignment shop.
“Well, to be fair, that only happened the one time, and I’m not sure that’s actually a real thing. They caught their son trying to sneak a peek at me when I was in the shower. By that afternoon, I was sitting in an office while they found emergency placement for me.”
“How many times did that happen? The emergency placement?”
Again, she shrugs, like all of this is no big deal at all; it’s just simply how her life was. Maybe it’s become normalized to her, but the idea of shuffling a kid around from home to home because the adults in the world can’t get their heads out of their asses still boils my blood.
“I’m not sure. Sometimes I was placed ahead of time, so it felt like a fast transition to me, but it had already been planned out.”
“You shouldn’t have had to go through any of that.”
“My parents died, there was no family to take me. I got lucky. I ran across a few girls who really got bad placements. No one ever hurt me or abused me.”
“Neglect is abuse, Savanah.” I must say it harsher than I intend because she twists around to face me.
“I thought you wanted to watch a movie,” she asks.
“No. I wanted to strip you naked and fuck you senseless, but you seemed to want to relax on the couch.”
She turns back around, leaning her back into my chest and sighs.
“I don’t see why we can’t do both.” She hooks her leg over mine, spreading her thighs. The short cotton shorts she’s wearing ride up, exposing the tender flesh just beneath, and I rest my hand there.
“Are you trying to distract me?” I press a kiss to her temple as I sink my fingertips into her thigh, eliciting the prettiest little sigh from her.
“Of course not. I just don’t think harping on the past is helpful. It happened; nothing is going to change that.”
Gliding my hand further inside her thigh, I brush away the bit of fabric hiding her sweet pussy from me.
“You deserved better than what you got.” I press the flat of my middle finger against her swollen clit, inhaling her aromatic arousal.
“You deserve better than what you have.” I swirl her clit, increasing the pressure as I go round and round.
“You deserve everything.” I sink two fingers into her pussy, biting back a groan at how tightly her heat grips me. “So tell me, Savvy, what do you want?”
She rolls her head, casting me a side-eyed grin. “I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do.” I curl my fingers and watch as her pouty lips part on an exhale of pleasure. “Do you want me to finger fuck you here on the couch until you scream my name, or do you want me to take you to bed and shove my cock so hard into your pussy you feel it tomorrow morning?”
She digs her fingernails into my thighs, arching her back when I pull my fingers back an inch. “Yes,” she breathes.
I chuckle, pressing my hips upward so she can feel my length against her ass. I slip my hand up her shirt, finding her already hard nipples peaked and waiting for me. She yelps when I pinch one. Then I twist, making her squirm.
“Where are you going? I’m playing, hold still for me.” I thrust my fingers into her while pulling on her nipple until she whimpers. Her body tells me what I need to know. Her pussy floods with arousal, soaking my fingers.
My girl loves the pain.
“Put your hands on my knees and don’t move them.” I order as I release her nipple and the blood flows back, making her squirm again. Fuck she’s so responsive, so beautiful, so honest when she’s spread open like this for me.
“Will you punish me if I don’t?” she asks, breathless.
“Not in any way you’ll enjoy,” I promise with a grin.
She fakes an eye roll then grips my knees.
“You like when I punish you, don’t you?”
She moans in the sweet pouty way she does when she doesn’t want to tell the truth but knows I won’t accept anything less.
“You do.” I grind the heel of my hand into her clit as I thrust my fingers upward into her, curling to hit the spot that makes her toes curl.
I could go into reasoning, explaining that I’m probably the first person in her life to ever care enough about her to take the time. Or that she’s never had anyone make a promise and keep it. Or that when she surrenders to me, she knows I will keep her safe.
But I want more pretty sounds from her, so I don’t say any of that. Instead, I pinch her nipple again and kiss her temple and watch her fight herself to stay in control.
“Gabriel,” She moans, twisting her neck so she can brush her lips across my chin, seeking out my mouth. Not able to tell this woman no will be my undoing. I kiss her. No, she kisses me.
“What, sweet girl, what do you need?”
“Fuck me.” She arches her back again, trying to take more of my fingers.
“On your back,” I order, removing my hand from between her thighs and slapping her hip. “And spread those fucking legs.”
There’s no push back, no smart comment, or eye roll. Just immediate obedience while shimmying out of her shorts and throwing them across the room.
Our collective moan fills the air when I sink into her. She wraps her legs around me and pulls me to her for another kiss, then another.
“Gabriel,” she groans my name, bucking her hips at me.
“Ask me baby, ask me if you can come now.” I bite at her earlobe, kiss her cheek.
She squeezes around me.
“You’re so close, aren’t you? You’re right at the edge, but you have to ask.” I line up our gazes. “Who do you belong to?”
She licks at her lips. “You. I belong to you.”
“That’s right, baby, now ask if I’ll let you come.” I twist my hips, driving us both mad with urgency.
Her fingers dig into my biceps.
“Gabriel, can I come now?” She adds a soft, “Please, sir.” And I’m lost.
“Fuck, yes.” I drive into her, taking her mouth beneath mine.
Another twist of my hips, and she’s flying. I’ll be wearing her nail marks for weeks.
And it will be a badge of honor.
My own release hits me, electricity zipping through my body as my balls pull tight and unleash. I slam into her, unable to stop or slow until every drop fills her.
She wraps her arms around my neck, pulling me into her, and she kisses my shoulder. A tremor runs through her, so I hold her tighter. I think I hear a sob, but when I pull up to look at her, she’s smiling.
“I think the movie’s over,” she points at the television. Her shorts hang from the corner of the screen.
My phone rings from the coffee table. No good news comes from a late-night call.
“Are you going to get your phone?” she asks, running her fingers through my hair. A simple gesture, but it electrifies my soul.
“No. Whatever it is can wait.”