7. Gwen
Chapter seven
Gwen
When I came upstairs fifteen minutes ago, I’ll admit that it was with the intent of doing a bit of research and then getting ready so that I looked hot for Gabe. I haven’t been this horny in years, and teasing him all day got me super riled up. I hopped on my computer to do some research about what gargoyles find attractive, because I will admit, I have no idea.
I have a notification that I have a new email, and I see that it is from Sydney, Brooks’s wife. She moved here after coming as an auditor for an organic certification agency, but really enjoys photography, so that’s most of what she does now.
I scan the email, and it seems like she’s a little annoyed with Brooks that he didn’t provide me with any evidence for what he knows about Preston’s other wife, so she has provided me a link to a folder that has compiled information and evidence. I know that I probably don’t need to click it. I trust Brooks, and I know he wouldn’t lie to me about something like this, however, sometimes I can’t help but self sabotage—please see my marriage to a ridiculous asshole.
The folder opens and it is organized by photographic evidence, links to news articles, and it is organized by year.
The folders start the year we got married, and the date on the first picture is shortly after my first miscarriage. It’s Preston at a party and he is licking up the side of some girl’s neck. She is gorgeous, of course. She looks like the skinny expensive version of me, or like I am the generic brand of her that “we have that at home.” I flip through the evidence, compulsively clicking, even though I know I should stop and feel increasingly nauseated. I don’t understand why he didn’t just leave me for this girl, because she’s so pretty, and she looks rich too.
When we get to more recent years, there’s an article about their wedding, which looked like a pretty big deal, and I do remember Preston having to go away for a business trip for like a month during that time.
I should feel worse about this, I think. I should care more. And I suppose I do, but instead of being hurt, I’m just angry. I’m angry at Preston for being such a liar, I’m angry at this woman for being so pretty and successful. I’m angry at myself for not. I’m angry at her, Cecelia Lake— even her name sounds rich—for not noticing that our husband was leading a double life.
But more than anything I’m angry at myself for being so stupid. I can’t believe I have wasted so much of my life on this garbage heap of a man.
So of course, instead of being hot and sexy, when Gabe comes in, I am ugly crying in front of my computer. It’s not the first time he's seen me cry, and it’s definitely not the first time he’s seen me cry about Preston, and it probably won’t be the last. He crosses to my couch and picks me up, sitting me down on his lap and wrapping his wings around us. He has seen me cry, plenty of times, and comforted me plenty of times, but sitting me on his lap is definitely new.
He knows me so well, because Gabe doesn’t bother to ask what’s wrong. I’m too worked up to answer right now, so instead he just sits with me and rubs my back. I lean into his warm strength, grateful that at least I didn’t fuck this up. Gabe is the best thing that’s ever happened to me, he’s the best person I know.
Maybe I have horrible taste in men, but I have pretty amazing taste in friends.
Gabe rocks gently back-and-forth, and between that and him rubbing my back. I eventually calm down to the point that I can speak.
“Sydney sent over evidence of Preston’s relationship. As you can probably imagine, it’s not good.”
“Oh?” He asks.
“As far as I can tell, he started dating her right after I had my miscarriage—” I cut off because Gabe has started growling. “Calm down Gabe, the guy is dead.”
“I wish he wasn’t, so I could kill him.” He starts toying with a strand of my hair, and it is ridiculously relaxing. “So, how do you feel about it?”
“Stupid. We both know he was a dick, so I shouldn’t be surprised that he pulled something like this, I’m just mad that I didn’t see it. Gabe, they had a big ass society wedding. It was in the papers, they owned a business together. It feels like everyone else on earth except for me knew about this, except for you. You didn’t, did you?”
Gabe shakes his head. “No, you can bet your ass he would’ve been dead a long time ago if I did. I think we were both learning what he was really like at the same time, but this would’ve been the last straw for me.”
We are quiet for a moment, as I continue to process. It’s frustrating, because I almost wish that this Cecelia woman had looked more different from me, but it seems Preston had to type.
“And of course she is skinny and gorgeous,” I whine. I know I’m whining. Nor am I being fair to her. I doubt she had any idea that he was married or that I even existed. I can’t imagine what excuse he gave her that he was gone every weekend, because at least being gone during the week for work makes sense. I allow myself a moment of smugness, about that.
“Gwen, you are gorgeous. And I, personally, am incredibly grateful that you aren’t skinny. If you were, I wouldn’t be able to see those gorgeous dimples on your ass.”
I giggle as his hand travels down to my ass and squeezes.
“Oh yeah?” I ask.
“Hell, yeah.” He moves his hand under my chin. “Do I need to show you just how stunning you are? How stupid Preston was to ever treat you like anything but the goddess you are?”
I’m dizzy with his words, the heady rush of arousal floods me full of endorphins, and I’m grounded by his hands touching me. I nod, because I need what he’s offering, an escape, a release, and to forget.
He lifts me up, and I can’t help but think how easily he stands. He doesn’t even notice my weight.
He walks me into the bedroom and this time instead of depositing me on the bed, he turns around and sits. He releases me so I'm standing in front of him and smiles up at me.
"Now," he says with an air of finality, "I am going to unwrap my gorgeous little gift and you, are going to listen. I don't want any objections, because I am not a liar, and you know that anything you say against yourself is an insult to my taste, and we know that my taste is better than yours."
"Marina was nice ."
“We all know that my taste in women is better than your taste in women, because your taste in women is shitty.”
He's referring to my high school girlfriend, which is honestly a low blow. Because it's not like he was paying any attention to the fact that I had a crush on him, so I moved on, and who can blame a girl for wanting to get with a girl that has a shit ton of tentacles? Did I stay with her longer than I needed to because she had a shit ton of tentacles? Absolutely. Was she not especially attractive? Maybe, but it was night school and I didn't have a lot of options and she was very nice.
" Tentacles, Gabe. And it’s not like I had any better options.” I look at him pointedly. “Anyways… Weren’t you gonna fuck me?”
"Absolutely, I was just making sure that you knew you were supposed to keep your mouth shut if you were going to say anything negative. The point of this is—you need to understand that Preston was a fucking idiot and any minute that he didn't spend worshiping your body and was instead in a different fucking city with someone else was absolutely asinine."
Roll my eyes but motion that my lips are sealed by zipping them. He clears his throat and flourishes his hands. Rubbing them together and smirking.
"Now, it might seem like a basic bitch move to take off your shirt first, but I would in fact, like to point out that I am currently sitting at boob level and it would be a missed opportunity for me to not get to stare at them this entire time so first I'm gonna take off your shirt."
His hands move to my hem, and he tickles my stomach with his claws. He might be keeping the mood light with his words, but his fingers trace a different story across my skin. The second an inch of skin is revealed to him, he leans forward and places reverent kisses on my squishy stomach, he presses in, and hums as if he's enjoying a delicious meal. When he gets to my navel, his tongue snakes out and dips inside, I giggle, and start to ask him what he's doing, until I remember that I'm not supposed to be talking about stuff so I clap my hand over my mouth instead. He pulls back and raises his brow ridges at me. "Very good, you disarmed my first trap, little thief."
He raises the rest of my shirt, and I'm not surprised when he takes his time, kissing across the mounds of my breasts. I might be self-conscious about other parts of my body, but I know I've got great tits. What is surprising, is that once he discards my shirt, it's not my breasts that he talks about first. Instead, his hands and gaze travel once again to my stomach, and I squirm a little.
When he said we were going to talk about my body, I honestly kind of assumed we were gonna be spending a long time, focusing on my breasts and my hips and my ass, which feels reasonable, I didn't realize that we were going to be spending any time on crappy places like my squidgy bits. My stomach is an area that Preston specifically talked to me about a lot. He would bitch at me about how I needed to be less stressed because cortisol caused stomach fat, and he would cite it as a potential reason that we weren't getting pregnant without any evidence.
So, when Gabe cups my little pooch between his massive hands, I want to recoil. One of his hands cups me in my lower back and keeps me in place.
"I want to start here with this slutty little stomach. So squishy, like it's begging me to bite into it and giving me a preview of how you look swollen with our young?" He squeezes his fingers and continues.
"I love these dimples you get when I press into you, I love how your body yields to me. " My face must be bright red now, but I can definitely see what he means. As he speaks, I start to see my stomach in a new light, how he at least claims to see me. My stomach isn't huge, but I definitely have that round little section, that bulge that you can always see when I'm wearing a dress. I've always kind of hated it, when I think about it as a preview of what I will look like pregnant, I'm kind of into it. Cause I realize that for the first time in my life when I'm pregnant, the changes in my body are going to be exactly what they are supposed to be. For once in my life, I'm going to gain weight and it's going to be what's supposed to happen. That my body will change shape and it will be because I am growing something amazing inside of me and that every bit that I grow means that I'm doing a good job. That I am growing and nurturing my baby. I smile as I think about how fucking cute pregnant ladies are I realize that I'm also going to get that adorable little rounded belly.
"What's that smile for?”
I smirk and look to the side. "I was just thinking that I'm probably gonna actually be pretty cute when I'm pregnant."
His smile is massive, one of those ones that he has where he smiles so wide that his ears push up, which is so fucking adorable. "You're gonna be cute, yeah. But you're also going to be fucking sexy as hell.” His hands move around to my ass and he pulls me closer so that he's speaking into my cleavage. "I am going to have such a hard time not fucking you constantly when you're pregnant with my young. If I thought today was hard, with you teasing me all day," he gives my ass a playful little smack. "I know it's going to be even worse when you are filled with my baby.”
He nuzzles his nose into the crook of my neck, and whispers. "Will you smell different—when you're full with my youngling? You smell different when you're fertile. Did you know that Gwen? You know that I can tell when you are ripe and ready to be bred?" With aching slowness, he shifts his hands from my ass to the front of my shorts and unbuttons them, shimmying them down until they fall to the floor. He inhales through his nose, and smiles up at me.
"I could always tell when you were fertile, and that idiot was in the city, instead of here trying to fill you up every chance he had.” He moves his hands back to my ass, tucking them under the edges of my underwear and squeezing. "I'm not about to make the same mistake."
I shriek as he lifts me up so that I'm on the bed. He grabs my shorts from around my ankles and twists them, so that my legs are trapped in his hand. I’m lying on my back, completely exposed to him. He kneels down and nuzzles my core.
"Do you like these, little thief?" he asks, running the side of his nose across the seam of my panties.
"Not—not especially," my voice is shaky, because I'm careening from emotion to emotion. Every inch of my skin is aware where he touches me, of the temperature in the room, the currents of air that leave my ceiling fan.
With a dark chuckle he takes the edge of my underwear in his teeth and rips. I think the tearing sound of him destroying my underwear will be implanted in my brain forever.
"There she is, there is my gorgeous girl." He says. I can't even see him anymore, because my legs are in the way and he's speaking words directly into my pussy.
"I'm going to get back to all of the other parts of your body, but I think we need to take a minute to acknowledge this needy little girl. She’s so ripe and perfect for me, swollen and slick, begging for my monster cock to fill her."
He lowers my feet so that my knees bend and I open to him further.
“Look at you. You are just desperate to be filled, aren't you? Is your brain being silly? Is it taking away time that you could be filled by being insecure?" too thick fingers slip through me, breaching me as he circles my clit with his thumb.
“Maybe, we need to take advantage of neurobiology. Maybe we need to create some associations." He smirks and pumps his fingers into me, teasing my clit slightly. "Let's see, you have your stomach, legs, arms, your ass, that's at least four I think. Let's start with these legs.” Without untying them, he slips my shoes from my feet, tugging my socks off, he releases my legs, but only to capture my foot. His fingers tease my cunt, as he kisses the arch of my foot.
"First things first, your feet are so fucking adorable it’s not even funny. You have these round little toes and I love when you put polish on them that matches the season. It's like my own personal indicator that spring is coming. Nobody else gets to see that you have switched bright pink, but me, because it's never warm enough to wear sandals yet. But the second I see these fucking pink toes padding around your apartment, I know that season is about to change."
Is this man seriously trying to tell me that he uses my toes as a barometer? there is something so unreasonably precious about how much attention he apparently pays to my feet, of all things.
Moving up my leg, he kisses my calves, my knees, my thighs. Each kiss is slow and reverent and the noises he makes suggest he’s enjoying himself. I assumed there would be more talking, but instead it’s like he’s mapping out my entire body. He traces kisses over my freckles, connecting them like constellations. Between my legs, his fingers demand my pleasure as he worships my body.
Worships.
It feels so strange to say that, but that’s exactly what he’s doing. He whispers words against my body, so soft I can’t make them out, and seals them with a kiss like a spell.When his mouth reaches the apex of my legs, he replaces his thumb with his tongue, pumping his thick fingers into me and teases my clit until I’m squirming. Pleasure washes over me with each demanding lash he makes, and when he sucks? I’m done.
My vision sheets white and I scream and clamp down on his hand. He nurses me through my orgasm until I’m grabbing his hand.
“I’ll give you a little break.” He rips off his clothing until I’m the only one wearing anything, and it’s just my bra.
With a smirk I unsnap my bra and throw it at him. I know my boobs are great and it’s not something I’m remotely worried about. He snatches it out of the air and holds it to his nose, huffing in like it’s the best thing he’s ever smelled. Obviously I don’t want to smell bad , and I like pretty smelling things as much as the next girl, but I never thought anyone would like how I smelled that much.
“Sneaky, sneaky little thief,” he says. “But you’re no match for your DM Daddy.”
DM Daddy? For real? I bust out laughing and he climbs onto the bed over me. “What? Am I not going to fuck a baby into you right now?”
“You are—but…” I trail off, because now that the initial laughter has worn off, I… kinda like it?
“But what?” he teases, positioning his dick so that it slips between my folds. He slides it back and forth, rubbing my clit. Gabe reaches up and grabs my wrists, raising them above my head and trapping them with his hand. “What is it little thief? Did you fail a con save? Or… does your DM Daddy just know how to disarm you?”
“Gabe!” I scream, because his cock is driving me past the point of sanity.
“What? What is it you want, little thief?”