Chapter 13 Amelia
AMELIA
The last patron stumbles out, leaving nothing but empty glasses and the lingering scent of spilled whiskey. Gabe locks the front door, the sound of the deadbolt sliding into place sealing us inside together.
“Come.” His voice drops an octave lower than it’s been all night. He extends his hand, and I take it without hesitation.
As Gabe leads me through the darkened club, I notice a forgotten paper heart tucked behind the bar—some remnant of a Valentine’s promotion.
I’d spent that night alone in my studio, paint-splattered and telling myself I preferred it that way. How different things might have been if I’d wandered into The Blue Room that night.
We climb the back stairs, his fingers laced with mine, the silence between us crackling with electricity. Each step heightens the anticipation coiling inside me, a delicious tension that’s been building all evening.
His office door appears at the end of a short hallway. The brass nameplate catches the dim light as Gabe unlocks it and guides me inside. Books line one wall, jazz records another. A massive desk dominates the space, all dark wood and leather.
The door closes behind us with a soft click.
In an instant, Gabe’s composure shatters. He moves like a predator unleashed, backing me against his desk, his mouth crashing into mine.
His hands find my waist, then slide lower, cupping my ass and lifting me. I gasp against his mouth as he presses himself between my thighs, the hard length of him evident through his tailored pants.
“I’ve been wanting to do this all night,” he growls against my mouth, one hand traveling up my spine to the zipper of my dress.
The sound of it tearing downward breaks the silence of the room. Cool air hits my back as the fabric parts, Gabe’s warm hands immediately replacing it, exploring newly exposed skin with urgent touches.
“Let me see you,” he demands, pulling back enough to push the straps of my dress off my shoulders. The material pools at my waist, leaving me in just a black lace bra above, my chest rising and falling rapidly with each breath.
His eyes darken as they rake over me, cataloging every detail like he might be tested on it later. I should feel vulnerable—instead, I feel powerful watching his control crack because of me.
I watch him as intently, memorizing the flush across his cheekbones, the way his pupils dilate, how his fingers flex against my skin.
His teeth graze my collarbone, and I arch into him, surrendering to the exquisite tension. My fingers fumble with his shirt buttons, desperate to feel his skin against mine.
“No.” Gabe captures both my wrists in one large hand, pinning them above my head against the wall. “You don’t touch until I say you can.”
The command in his voice sends a shiver through me. A primal and dangerous hunger flashes in his eyes. This isn’t the polished jazz club owner anymore; this is another beast entirely.
“I want to see what you can take,” he murmurs, his free hand stroking my throat before tightening enough to make my pulse race against his palm.
I should feel afraid. Instead, my pussy clenches and my breath catches.
“Color system,” he says against my ear. “Green means continue. Yellow means slow down. Red means stop. Tell me your color.”
“Green,” I breathe, shocking myself with how badly I want whatever’s coming.
Gabe smiles against my neck, then bites down—not quite hard enough to break skin, but enough to make me cry out. The pain blooms into pleasure so intense my knees buckle.
“I’m going to edge you until you beg,” he promises, his hand sliding beneath my dress. “And even then, I might not let you come.”
His fingers trace teasing circles, approaching where I need him most before retreating. I whimper, trying to shift my hips to follow his touch.
“Patience,” he warns, tightening his grip on my wrists. “Or I’ll have to restrain you properly.”
The words shouldn’t excite me as much as they do. Something in his voice tells me he has experience making people helpless.
“I want to break you apart,” he whispers, “and put you back together the way I want you.”
His control is absolute, predatory. Each touch is calculated to build pressure without release. And God help me; I want to surrender completely to whatever darkness waits within this man.
In one fluid motion, Gabe releases my wrists and sweeps his arm across the desk. Papers, pens, and a crystal paperweight crash to the floor. The violence of it shocks me, but equally sends a rush of heat through my body.
“On the desk. Now.”
Before I can move, he’s tugging my dress down my hips until it pools at my feet. My underwear comes off next, leaving me in nothing but my bra. His eyes devour me, his gaze so feral that it should terrify me, but only makes me wetter.
“Hands,” he commands. When I offer them, he loosens his burgundy tie, slides it free from his collar, and binds my wrists together with swift, tight movements. The silk is cool against my skin, the knot secure without cutting off circulation.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he growls, lifting me onto the desk. The polished wood is cold against my bare ass. He pushes me down until my back is flat against the surface, hands above my head.
Gabe steps between my legs, spreading them wider, exposing everything to his hungry gaze. My heart hammers against my ribs as he unclasps my front-clasped bra, finally leaving me completely naked under his still-clothed body.
“I’ve been thinking about tasting you again since the first time I licked your delicious arousal off my fingers,” he says, dropping to his knees. His hands grip my thighs, pulling me to the edge of the desk. His breath is hot against my center.
The first stroke of his tongue makes me whimper. He licks a long, slow path through my folds, groaning like I’m the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted.
“You taste even better than I imagined,” he murmurs against me. “And I’ve imagined this a lot.”
His tongue circles my clit, teasing me. Just as pressure builds, he moves away, licking lower, pushing his tongue inside me. I arch my back, wrists straining against his tie.
“Not yet,” he warns, fingers digging into my thighs. “I want you to be desperate first.”
He returns to my clit, sucking gently before pulling back again.
“Please,” I gasp, my hips lifting, chasing his mouth.
“Tell me what you need,” he demands, his tongue flicking lightly, expertly building me up without letting me fall over the edge.
I’m trembling on the edge of release, my body taut as a bowstring as Gabe brings me close repeatedly, only to cruelly pull me back. His tongue and fingers work in tandem, building exquisite pressure before deliberately slowing as I approach climax.
“Please,” I gasp, straining against the silk tie binding my wrists. “I need to come. Please.”
Gabe looks up at me from between my thighs, his eyes alight with a primal gleam. A bead of sweat rolls down his temple as he continues his torment, pressing two fingers inside me while his thumb caresses my clit.
“Not yet,” he growls, curling his fingers to hit that perfect spot that makes me see stars. “You won’t be coming until my cock is buried deep inside this perfect cunt. Nothing between us.”
The intensity in his voice makes me shudder. His fingers withdraw, and I whimper at the loss.
He rises to his feet, towering over me as I lay splayed across his desk. His hand caresses my throat possessively while the other works at his belt.
“Are you on birth control?” His voice is rough, demanding.
“Yes,” I manage to gasp, watching as he frees his impressive cock from his trousers.
A dangerous smile curves his lips. “Good. Because I want to feel you wrapped around me—breed your pussy with my cum.”
The crude words from his cultured mouth have an addictive effect. There’s something utterly feral in his expression now, intensifying my arousal.
His cock presses against my entrance, thick and hot. He holds himself there, denying us both as he stares down at me with predatory intent.
“Tell me you want it,” he demands, his voice a low rumble that I feel in my bones.
“Yes,” I gasp, my hips lifting instinctively toward him. “God, yes, I want it.”
Gabe’s eyes narrow, the corner of his mouth lifting in a smirk that’s both beautiful and cruel. He pulls back, denying me the pressure I crave.
“You can do better than that, Amelia.” My name sounds different now—darker, possessive. “I want to hear exactly what you want me to do to you.”
I struggle to form coherent thoughts as he takes his cock in hand, rubbing the swollen head against my slick entrance, then dragging it up to circle my clit. The contact sends a pulses of need through my body, making my bound hands clench into fists above my head.
“Please, I need you inside me,” I manage, my voice breaking as he slaps the head of his cock directly against my clit. The sharp, sweet impact makes me jerk.
He does it again, harder this time. My vision blurs at the edges as pleasure builds to an almost unbearable peak. I’m so close and wound so tight I might shatter completely when he finally lets me fall.
“Not good enough.” The words are a growl as he continues his exquisite torture, each slap of his cock pushing me closer to the edge without letting me tumble over. “Beg for it. Tell me how desperate you are for my cock.”
I abandon all pride, all composure. There’s nothing in the world but this need, this man, and the release he’s dangling just beyond my reach.
“Please, Gabe! I’m begging you—fuck me, fill me, I need to feel you inside me. I’ll do anything, just please—” My words dissolve into a broken moan as he slaps his cock against me again, the sound obscenely wet from how ready I am for him.
“Anything?” His eyes gleam with dangerous hunger. “Now that’s what I wanted to hear.”
Gabe’s eyes never leave mine as he continues to rub the thick length of his cock through my soaking wet entrance. The friction against my swollen clit with each bump is maddening—so close to what I need yet deliberately insufficient.