Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
Gabriel
Six months ago
It’s a Friday night, and I’m finally ready to go out.
My friends have been bugging me nonstop for months to hang out. It’s not that I haven’t wanted to, but it’s been extremely low on my priority list. After finishing my last deployment two years ago, during which time my divorce was finalized, I had absolutely no desire to go anywhere that counted as a social engagement. So I’ve spent the last two years quietly existing, finishing my twenty-six-year career in the Army, and getting my real estate license. I’ve already taken the next step and gotten my realtor brokerage license, and that’s how my friends finally convinced me to go out. To celebrate, they told me.
Funny how these nut jobs are showing me .
My three closest friends from the Army are here. Hard to believe that we all retired in the same area, but Colorado Springs has a massive military and retirement community. Jason technically didn’t retire here but moved here when the rest of us ended up here. DeMarcus and Tommy are due to retire within the next year. All four of us are currently single, and the three of them almost immediately left me at the bar to hit on women.
I see a stool open up at the far end of the bar and immediately grab it. I’ll wait a few minutes before I make my excuses and get the hell out of here. Enough time to grab another rum and coke. Yeah, my favorite drink is rum. Very masculine, I know. But it is the closest to Cacha?a , a Brazilian kind of rum. Kinda hard to find at run-down bars in Colorado, but I have a few bottles at home. I’m thankful for the ability to buy it online and ship it here.
As I take the last gulp of my drink, my eyes swing to the door as a beautiful little spitfire struts into the bar. Long, dark waves of hair cascade down her back. She’s wearing a tiny dress and killer heels, showing off calves I want to run my tongue along. Her eyes scan the bar and come to a stop on me. As our eyes meet, I feel my dick twitch. Porro . She’s beautiful. Tiny. At least a foot shorter than me. Italian maybe?
I realize I’m staring with my glass halfway to my mouth, and I blink, breaking the connection. Little spitfire turns and walks to the other side of the bar.
“Hey, man, I’m getting outta here,” Tommy says as he pats my shoulder harshly. “Got a live one.”
“Thought we were here to celebrate me,” I say dryly.
“Eh, you know how it is.”
“Hoes before bros, evidently.”
Tommy laughs, obviously not hearing the disdain in my voice. I shouldn’t have come out with them. They’re nice guys, but they’re flighty as fuck if they see a chance to get their dicks wet.
I watch Tommy drag a girl a good fifteen years younger than him out the door. I reach for my wallet and glance up to see the spitfire in an argument on the other side of the bar with a guy who looks familiar. I can’t place him, but I know I’ve seen him somewhere. It could just be from around town. My gut instinct, however, the gut that I’ve relied upon for the entirety of my Army career, tells me the guy isn’t good news. The guy shouts something and stalks out the door. The spitfire looks shocked and out-of-sorts. I find myself in front of her without even realizing that I moved.
“Are you okay?” I ask quietly. Her eyes travel to mine, and I’m taken aback at how beautiful they are. A smooth whiskey color. I feel myself getting lost in her eyes.
“Yes,” she says softly.
“What’s your name?”
“Monica.”
“Hello, Monica. I’m Gabriel.”
She stares at me. Before I can think about it, I cup her cheek before trailing one finger onto her neck. Her breath catches.
“Come home with me,” I whisper, almost not recognizing the sound of my voice. I feel an invisible magnet, a pull, tethering me to her.
She looks up at me, and I can’t help myself. I lean down and touch my lips gently to hers. She whimpers against my lips, and I groan. She gasps, and I slide my tongue through her open lips to circle hers. Her taste is intoxicating. I find her ass in my hands without realizing I’ve bent down to grab her. As I vaguely hear someone shout out that we should get a room, Monica breaks away from me and steps back.
“Oh my God,” she says as she touches her fingertips to her lips. “I can’t believe I just did that.”
“I’m sorry, querida , I wasn’t thinking,” I blurt out.
“What does that mean?” she asks.
“ Querida ?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, it means sweetheart in Portuguese.”
“Are you from Portugal?”
“No, my parents emigrated from Brazil when I was two.”
“Oh.”
I study her face, watching as she gets control of her emotions and a mask takes over her expression.
“It was lovely to meet you, Gabriel. I need to get home,” she says as her eyes slip to my chest.
“Come home with me,” I repeat. I don’t know what it is about this girl. But I need to be with her.
“I can’t. I … that guy that just left is my boyfriend, I guess. Well, maybe boyfriend is a strong word to describe him. But whatever it is, or we are, I need to be respectful of him. I can’t go home with you, Gabriel,” she says as she refuses to make eye contact.
“Okay,” I say, obvious disappointment covering my voice. “Can I have your phone number, at least?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she murmurs.
Striking out all over the place.
“Can I at least see you safely to your car?” I ask. That gets her attention, and her eyes wander to mine.
“No funny business?” she asks, and I chuckle.
“Funny business? No. No funny business,” I tease as I motion for her to walk in front of me toward the door. I reach around her to grab the door. She may have turned me down, but I still have manners. My m?e , my mother, raised me right.
When we reach Monica’s car, I grab the handle and open the door for her.
“You’re quite the gentleman,” she says softly.
“Always,” I respond. As I look down at Monica’s face, beams of moonlight highlighting her beautiful bone structure, I’m utterly captivated. “May I ask you a question, Monica?”
“Uh, okay?”
“How old are you?”
“Oh. I’m thirty-four.”
Fuck. She’s over a decade younger than me.
“How old are you, Gabriel?”
“I just turned forty-five,” I answer, and her eyes widen with surprise.
“No fucking way!” she exclaims, and I chuckle again.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You certainly don’t look that old.”
“I can assure you it’s what my birth certificate says. And also my knees in the morning,” I say dryly.
“You look great. That’s all I’m saying,” Monica tells me.
“Is that your convoluted way of saying you find me attractive?” I tease.
“Oh, please. You know you’re good-looking. Don’t even act like that,” Monica tells me as she rolls her eyes.
“Monica!” I hear a voice shout from behind us. I turn and see the guy from before jogging toward us. Her maybe-boyfriend. Great. “What the fuck are you doing, Monica?”
I turn toward her and raise one brow. This is how he talks to her? She gives me a shaky smile as she turns to him.
“I was just leaving. Gabriel was seeing me to my car,” she explains.
“You tell him you got a man?” the guy says belligerently.
“She did. But I can assure you if I were her man, I certainly wouldn’t be leaving her to walk from a bar by herself at night,” I tell him as I turn to face him.
“It’s fine, Gabriel. We’re fine. Thank you for walking me to my car,” she says before turning to the other guy. “Are you getting in or going home by yourself?” The guy gives me a vindictive grin as he nods .
“I’m the one going home to fuck her. Enjoy your night, man,” he whispers as he walks around me to get in the passenger side. Monica averts her eyes as she starts the car and gives me a quick wave before zipping out of the parking lot.
I head home to my condo. I live in a little town west of Colorado Springs. It’s somewhat close to the army base where I completed my service but also conveniently located not too far from downtown. I’m also close to the mountains, choosing to escape up there whenever I can. I love being outdoors, and even own a cabin an hour into the mountains. I’d live up there if I could.
As I enter my condo, I’m disappointed to be alone. Typically I don’t feel this way. I’ve made myself comfortable with the single life. Marriage wasn’t for me. I’m forty-five years old and set in my ways. I’m not interested if a woman can’t accept me as I am.
Monica felt different, though. Probably a little too young for me. But the connection I felt for her was instant. Got a nagging feeling in my gut that the idiota she was with wouldn’t be good for her, and that made me wish I knew more about Monica. So I could check on her.
I head up to my bedroom and into my bathroom. I always feel disgusting after being out at bars. I’m too old for this shit. Next time the guys ask me to ‘hang out,’ and it involves a bar or club, I will pass.
After getting undressed and turning on the shower, I stand under the hot water and slow my breathing. Years ago, I learned how to focus and lower my blood pressure by focusing on my breathing. It typically works. But right now, all I see behind my eyelids is the little spitfire. My mind takes me on a trip, imagining what Monica would be like. Would she be hesitant? Quiet and demure? Would she let me dominate her like I need to? Would she listen and do exactly as I say? I bet she’s a brat. Fuck, I do love a brat .
I grab my stiffening cock in my hand and give it a leisurely stroke as my other hand braces against the wall tile. I’m halfway to orgasm just thinking about Monica being a brat. My mind whirls with images as I quicken my strokes. Her on her knees with her hands tied behind her back, her mouth stuffed full of my cock. Tied to my bed frame. Taking her against a mirror. Fucking in my favorite hot springs in the mountains. Fucking her awake after keeping her up all night by edging her to the best orgasm of her entire life.
I come with a roar, stream after stream coating the wall tile as I slump against the wall. That was one hell of an orgasm. Best I’ve had in ages. All because some little spitfire walked into the same bar as me. And I’ll probably never see her again.