Chapter 7 Gabi
GABI
When you get married at twenty-two to your high school sweetheart, there are a lot of things you assume you’re never going to experience.
At the top of that list is a drunken one-night stand with a twenty-something football player.
But not only am I about to have that, I want it.
Holy shit, do I want it. I wanted it in the club the first time Maddox twirled me into his arms. I definitely wanted it when I was in his arms, dancing like no one was watching. Him holding me in his arms and letting me cry sealed the deal.
But I might die from sexual frustration from the little touches he’s giving me right now in the backseat of this car. And if the man isn’t inside me in less than twenty minutes, I will, in fact, combust.
That or two years, eleven months, and fourteen days is officially too long to go without sex. It’s even been longer since I’ve had a proper orgasm. So yes, if he keeps this up, I will, in fact, parish in the backseat of a Lexus.
“Patience,” Maddox whispers in my ear as he simultaneously starts drawing random circles ever so softly on my upper thigh. “We’re almost there, Gabrielle.”
The use of my full name sends chills through my body, like it’s done every time he’s used it tonight.
I’ve never been a big nickname person. Justin called me babe for years.
When we were young, I thought it was cute.
By the time I realized I hated it, he’d been using it for so long I didn’t have the heart to tell him I hated it.
But I’m glad I didn’t, because the first day he didn’t call me that was the day I had my first real clue that he was cheating.
I was right.
Maddox saying “Gabrielle” feels… I don’t know…
intimate in some way. Like it’s a name only for him.
My mom only called me Gabrielle growing up when I didn’t do my chores.
I made sure at my graduation and on my wedding day that I was Gabi.
For years I was Gabi Devereaux, then Gabi Landry, and now I’m back to Devereaux.
But right now, in this moment, I’m just Gabrielle. A new person. A daring person.
A woman about to get properly fucked.
“Hey,” Maddox whispers in my ear. “I need you to know you’re in charge tonight. Whatever you want to happen, happens. No pressure. No expectations. This is your night.”
I know what he’s doing, and it’s sweet. I truly do appreciate where he’s coming from. But this poor guy doesn’t know that if he keeps breathing into my ear like he is right now, this driver’s about to see how big his cock is when I whip it out and start stroking it.
“My night, huh?” I ask, turning so now it’s my turn to whisper into his ear. “There’s really only one thing I want.”
Boldness is taking over my body as I let my hands start exploring up his thigh and… fucking hell, he’s hard.
And big.
Exactly what I wanted.
“What’s that?”
I turn my head even more, wanting to make sure our driver doesn’t hear a thing. “It’s been three years since I’ve had an orgasm that I didn’t have to give myself. Think you can help me with that?”
I hear his breath hitch. “Three years?”
“Actually more. I rounded down.”
“Fuck…” he groans as his lips turn ever so slightly into me, leaving a breath of a kiss at my temple. My breath hitches at the touch, but at the same time, the car comes to a stop. “Wait here.”
He gives me one more kiss on my cheek before he opens his door and exits the car. I do as he says, my pulse thumping and my leg bouncing as I impatiently wait for Maddox to come around and open my door
“You didn’t have to do that,” I say as I take hold of his outstretched hand.
“And miss the chance to see you exit the car in that dress? Not a fucking chance.”
He kisses my cheek one more time before keeping hold of my hand as we walk through the lobby of the hotel.
My body is buzzing from the anticipation of whatever is about to come, and it’s only heightened because it seems every few steps, we’re being stopped.
Fans wanting selfies. Hotel staff congratulating him.
I can’t help but smile and watch as Maddox interacts with everyone.
He truly seems like a very happy, likable person.
But what I can’t get over is that during every one of those interactions, his hand was never not holding mine. He never broke contact. Not once.
And in this moment, I realize that yes, it’s been a long time since I’ve had sex, but it’s been even longer since I’ve been touched.
I might’ve missed that more.
I used to be a physical touch person. Holding hands, hugging, cuddling just because, it used to by my main love language.
Of course, in high school, Justin was all about it.
Who wouldn’t want to hold hands—or always make out—with your homecoming queen girlfriend?
He surely didn’t complain about it once we started having sex.
But over the years, it dwindled, like so many other aspects of our marriage. There were no more slight touches. No more surprise kisses when he got home from work. Cuddling? Ha! Foreign concept.
Like my singing, the craving for physical touch went away. So feeling this… seeing that Maddox made a conscious effort to never lose contact with me, means more to me than he’ll ever know.
“Sorry about that,” he says as we step onto the elevator and he presses his key card to send us to one of the top floors. “I’d hoped…”
I don’t let him get the words out of his mouth before my patience snaps and I’m backing him up against the elevator wall, initiating a kiss I didn’t know I had in me.
Seriously, who the hell am I? Is Gabrielle my alternate personality, where I have an internal “fuck it” moment and kiss men in elevators?
Hell, I might be. How would I know? I’ve been with the same man since I was sixteen years old.
I’m a completely different person than I was back then.
I don’t know anything about myself. I don’t know if I’m even doing this right.
But I know one thing—Gabrielle is in charge tonight. She’s going to take what she wants. Do what she wants. And right now? She, and I, want Maddox.
And from every signal I’m getting from Maddox, he wants me too.
His hands are around my waist, pulling me in so tight I can feel every inch of his hard cock pressing into me.
His mouth is diving into mine, taking over control of the kiss, which I’m happy to relinquish.
I’ve never been much of an initiator when it comes to things in the bedroom, but me kissing him out of nowhere might’ve opened a new door I didn’t know I had a key to.
This kiss is… God… I don’t have the words to describe it. It’s intense and passionate. Spontaneous and exciting, but somehow also deliberate. With every swipe of his tongue and every brush of his lips, I feel myself falling more and more into the magic of this night.
I vaguely hear the bell of the elevator notifying us that we’re on his floor, but I don’t want to stop kissing this man, and apparently, he doesn’t either. Instead, we keep our mouths connected as we stumble out of the elevator, running into the wall a few steps out.
That should’ve stopped us. It doesn’t. Our hands are everywhere as our mouths and lips continue exploring and taking.
I can taste the champagne on his tongue, but there’s also a mint to it that’s a little bit addicting.
The way he tastes, and the way his mouth moves, is making me remember why I’ve always loved the simple act of kissing. And how much I’ve truly missed it.
But now I want more.
I don’t know how we do it, but without ever losing our actual footing, or our lips ever coming unglued, we finally stumble down the hall to his room.
“Here,” he whispers to me, his mouth now setting up camp in a place behind my ear that’s about to kick start that orgasm I wanted so desperately earlier. “Take the card. Let us in.”
I do as he asks, slowly turning around to face the door. In what should be an easy task is made ten times more difficult because now not only is Maddox doing his damnedest to give me a hickey, his fingers are toying with my legs at the edge of my dress.
“Come on, gorgeous… the quicker you let us in, the quicker I make you come with my tongue.”
I want that more than anything, but how the hell am I supposed to concentrate on tapping key cards to doors when I feel my dress coming up my thighs and said tongue is doing something wicked at my pulse.
“Maddox.”
“Inside, Gabrielle. Or else you’re going to get that orgasm in this hallway. And I won’t care who sees.”
For a half a second, I consider that option, but then I come to my senses. Don’t get me wrong, I want the orgasm. More than anything. But not in the hallway.
I’m feeling bold. But not that bold.
The second we step inside I don’t have a second to think about anything before Maddox spins me around and presses me against the door.
I’m in such deep concentration of his mouth, and kissing him even harder than I was in the hallway, that I don’t feel his hands trailing down my body.
Once I realize it, I don’t have time to think, or even ask, what he’s doing, before my question is answered.
His arms are hooking under my ass, picking me up, and pinning me against the door.
Oh… oh my.
I can feel the sequins of my dress scratching against my thighs as Maddox holds me up, but any discomfort is quickly pushed aside when I feel his mouth kissing down my neck, over the tops of my breasts that are exposed from the deep v-cut.
“So good,” I breathe out, my hands clinging to his hair, burying his face into my tits even more.
How is this happening? I’m not a small girl.
I have curves. I like to eat my sweets but remember to throw in a vegetable and protein in the mix.
I know Justin was never happy that I’d lost my figure from back in the glory days.
I used to not care—then I did care—then stopped caring again once I realized his view of me was tied into the entire way he felt about our marriage.