by Charles, Eva
“Me too.” I grin.
When we get to the top, he takes my drink and places it on the step, with his right beside it, and flicks off the overhead lights. He put his hands on either side of my face, and teases my lips with his tongue until they part for him. “I know you don’t like me up here. That this is some kind of Christmas concession, so I should warn you, if you invite me to your room, I won’t be fucking my fist tonight. But I will be fucking you.”
I stare into his eyes trying to find the courage to crack open my chest and lay my heart at his feet. “Does it always have to be about dirty sex? Will you ever—” I lower my head.
“Hey.” He tucks a tendril of hair behind my ear. “Ever what?”
I shrug. “Make love to me? Or let me make love to you. It’s Christmas.”
JD slides a thumb under my chin and forces me to look at him. “You like dirty sex. Making love is just an old-fashioned way to pretty up a good fuck. No one uses it anymore. We’re all enlightened now.” He’s smiling, and I force a small smile, but it’s fake and he knows it. “Should I go? Your decision.”
My decision. My choice. “I do have something for you. But now I’m not sure if tonight is the right time to give it to you.” I feel silly. My plan seems so foolish now. I don’t know what I was thinking.
“If we go to your bedroom, we will have sex. I won’t take it from you, but it’ll happen. Don’t kid yourself.” He gives me a minute to kick him out. When I don’t, he picks up our glasses, and hands me mine. “Let’s go get that present you keep talking about.”
* * *
Except for one smoldering kiss that lasts about ten minutes, we manage to get through the rest of the stairwell and into my suite without too much distraction.
I flip on the gas fireplace and the room is warm and glowing. We sit on the loveseat in front of the fire and sip our drinks in silence while the shadows dance in the flames. JD squeezes my hand. “What is it, Gabrielle?”
“I was just thinking about tonight at Sweetgrass. You were quiet. Quieter than usual. Not your usual bossy self. Like you were soaking it all in.”
“I was.” He rubs his thumb along his bottom lip, still staring into the fire. “I wanted to make sure I remember it. All of it. Christmas hasn’t been special for me in a long, long time.”
“We can do it again next year—if—we’re still—”
“Don’t.” He pulls me into his side, and brushes his mouth over my hair. Not really kissing, just feeling the soft strands on his lips. “Where’s my present?” he asks.
I put my hand over my heart, and feel the steady beat. Right here. Please don’t return it. And don’t betray it, or stomp on it when you don’t want it anymore. I pull a big breath through my nose, fill my lungs, and blow it out quietly.
“When I agreed to—the arrangement,” I start, just above a whisper. “I didn’t agree to save my mother. Well, initially I did. But after I talked to the case manager, I knew I didn’t need to agree to anything that made me uncomfortable.” He’s stroking my head, and I let my eyelids flutter closed.
“At first, I wanted revenge for the past. I wanted your heart to be broken this time. And I wanted to understand all the secrets and lies. I wanted something that would allow me to close the door firmly behind you, for good.” He stiffens, and I rub my palm up and down his forearm. “That’s what I told myself. But really, what I wanted was you. I knew the night you came back that I never stopped loving you.”
He combs his fingers through my hair. “You sure didn’t act like it.”
I smile. No, I didn’t. I was confused. And angry. Angry that you waltzed in and in five minutes, the wall I’d carefully constructed around my heart was crumbling. “The minute I saw you, all I could think about was your warm mouth, your rough hands on my skin. That, and a thousand other feelings swamped me. It had never—not since you—been like that. I wanted it again, JD. Deep down I wanted it again. Not just the sex part, but all of it. I was so sure I could handle you, handle my feelings.”
“And now?”
“Now I think I’m fucked.”
He throws his head back and laughs. It rings clear with a pure joy that I rarely feel from him. “It’s a small elite club,” he says. “Welcome.”
Should I ask him? Do you want to ruin the intimacy, Gabrielle? The joy. I can’t wait anymore for answers. Not to this question.
“Why did you send me away?”
I feel him take two breaths before he says anything. “To keep you safe. I would do it again, Gabrielle. I will do it again if it becomes necessary. I can’t promise I won’t. This,” he squeezes me, “what we have right now, is a hundred times, a thousand, more than I ever thought we’d have when I walked into your office election night. I want to enjoy every single second we’re together, because I don’t know how long it’ll last.”
When he says things like this—it feels as though our relationship is out of his control. Like someone else is pulling the strings. Me? Does he think I’ll send him away?
He drains his drink, places the glass on the side table, and pulls me into his lap. He’s a big, sexy man, with strong hands that hold me against him. It’s intimate. So intimate. More intimate than sex.
I rest against him, lifting my head to nuzzle his neck. “When you talk about sending me away again, it scares me. It makes me think that maybe I can’t do this with you.”
“If I send you away this time, I promise it won’t be like last time. I promise I won’t send you off without an explanation. Last time I had to. I kept you safe in the only way the nineteen-year-old me knew how to keep you safe. But I’ve sifted through it thousands of times since, and even as I look back on it right now, I’m not sure there was another way. I was too young. You were too young.”
“Can’t you tell me more?”
“I can’t—not yet. Part of keeping you safe is not telling you too much.”
“Safe from what?” When he doesn’t answer, I crane my neck to look at him. “You don’t trust me?”
“That’s not it.” He pushes my hair back and kisses my forehead.
It’s Christmas and I don’t want a fight. It feels like he wants to tell me—and for the first time, I believe, really believe, that he will tell me why he had me sent away. Someday. You’ve waited this long for answers, you can wait a little longer. I can.
I scoot around and straddle him, my knees digging into the sofa, my fingers raking his hair, tracing the contour of his jaw, letting the stubble prick them.
His lips graze my throat. “You want to play?”
I shake my head. “No. No games tonight. No toys, nothing but my hands and mouth, pleasuring you. My body loving yours.”
He pulls the curls off my face. “You want to own me.”
I nod. “You’ll struggle, because you don’t like to give up control. You’re already sweating and we’re just talking about it.” I cup his jaw. “I want you to let me have it. I want your surrender. I don’t want you to take me tonight. Let me take. Let me give myself to you tonight. Everything. It’s my gift to you.”
28
Julian
I nod, and swallow hard. Her skin is silky and warm. Her voice is husky, like she’s been enjoying cigars and whiskey all her life. “Gabrielle, you’ve always owned me.” The admission doesn’t sting as much as I thought it would, so I confess fully. “If it seems like I’m the one in charge, it’s because I’m a damned good actor. But I’m not sure I can do what you’re asking.” I stop to kiss her finger. “I like the control. I don’t need toys or props, but I still need the control. That’s how I’m built.”
She begins unbuttoning my shirt, like she didn’t hear a word I said. One button at a time. Caressing the skin that’s revealed as each button is freed from its tether. By the time she reaches the last one, my dick is throbbing, and my fingers are twitching on her ass, lightly cupping, itching to crawl all over her. “Gabrielle,” I breathe her name. “I don’t know how to give up control. I’m not sure I can. If someon
e wants it, they have to pry it from my clenched fists.”
She grinds her pussy into my cock. I groan. “You’re a tease, woman.”
“I learned from the best.” Her words are like a dull ache in my chest, but she’s unbuckling my belt, and I can’t think about anything else right now.
“It looks like you might need a little more room in here,” she murmurs, pulling my zipper down. My hands dive into her hair, and I lower my head to reach her mouth. I’m desperate for a taste. But she doesn’t let me feed off her.
“If you try to wrestle control away from me, again. I’ll send you home. Hard and wanting. I hear blue balls are a real thing. A sixteen-year-old boy once told me that.”
I chuckle. Maybe I should go. I can’t give her what she’s looking for tonight. But before I can move her off my lap, she sinks her teeth into my neck like a little vixen, and I know I’m not going anywhere. “You are wicked,” I say, grabbing ahold of her hair. “And it’s Christmas.”
There’s a sultry gleam in her eyes. “Unzip my dress.” She climbs off my lap. Her hair is mussed. The waves have become corkscrews. Her lips are glistening with promise.
She sits at the edge of the sofa facing away from me. I pull her hair over one shoulder, and lower the zipper, one tooth at a time. Planting my mouth at the nape of her neck, I let two fingers follow the line of the zipper down her back. She trembles. “You’re cheating,” she warns.
“You love it.”
My control is completely frayed by the time she stands and lets her dress glide to the floor. There’s not a shred left to surrender.
Within seconds, I’m naked, and she’s spreading the drops of precum over my cock, running her nails over my inner thighs, and cradling my aching balls.
When she pulls me into her hungry little mouth, I growl. She laughs softly, and the vibrations around my cock are mind-blowing. My balls are tightening against my body. My hands are in her hair. She slides her hand into her panties, and rubs her pussy, squirming into her fingers. I’m not sure if it’s for my pleasure or hers.
“Let me taste you,” I murmur, tugging her arm up and sucking her fingers into my mouth. It’s nowhere near enough, but it’ll do for now. “You’re a dirty, filthy girl. And I am one lucky sonofabitch.”
She takes me deeper. The tingle in my spine is beginning. She tips her head back and swallows me. My toes curl into the rug, when I feel her gag reflex kick in. “Gabrielle. Oh, baby.”
I squeeze her shoulders, and she swallows my cock again, fucking me with her mouth, her hands, hard and fast until I twitch and unload in her throat, with long, hot spurts that seem to go on forever.
“Get up here." I don’t have much strength, but I manage to pull her from her knees, and find her mouth. I suck on her tongue. I taste myself there. Salty and musky, mixed with her honey taste. I’m ready to go again. My balls ache, and right now, I can’t ever remember not being hard.
My fingers shove aside her panties and I stroke her pussy, paying special attention to her clit. She sways into me, and mewls. I’m fresh out of control.
I toss her over my shoulder, and lay her on the bed. With one move, her panties are off and balled into her mouth. “You’re a noisy little wench, and we don’t want to alarm the guests.” I pull her legs over my shoulders, and lick her pussy, sliding my fingers into both her tight little holes, until I hear nothing but muffled cries of pleasure.
I pull the panties from her mouth, and kiss her long and hard. “Bite into my shoulder if you need to scream.” I lower myself onto her, wrap her legs around her my waist, and fuck her like Adam fucked Eve. No toys, no props, no little games, just my throbbing cock sliding in and out of her hot pussy. It’s paradise. That’s all I think about as her walls clench around my shaft. All I think about as she milks me with her tight little cunt. All I think about as she takes everything from me. It’s paradise.
I catch my breath, and roll over, bringing her with me. “You really don’t give up control easily,” she says into my chest. “Although you did better than I expected.”
“We’ll have to practice more,” I say to her, wrapping her tighter.
I feel her smile, on my skin. “Stay with me,” she whispers. “All night.”
It’s a mistake to wake up next to her in the morning. I know it, but I’m going to do it anyway. “You sure?”
“Mmhm.” She snuggles deeper. “Merry Christmas. I hope you liked your present.”
“Best gift anyone’s ever given me. Except for that birthday present when I turned seventeen.” It’s the last thing I utter before falling into a deep, dreamless sleep, wound around her luscious body.
29
Julian
The alarm wakes us at the crack of dawn Christmas morning, and Gabrielle reaches over me to turn it off. “It’s freezing,” she says.
I don’t know if it’s because I’ve been wrapped around her hot little body all night, but I’m damn cold, too. “Get back here, and I’ll warm you up.”
“I have too much to do. But you don’t need to get up. Sleep for a while longer.”
“I don’t want to stay in bed without you. Let’s get in the shower. We’ll kill two birds with one stone.” I drag her into the bathroom and turn on the shower. We huddle in the corner of the stall waiting for the water to heat up. I pin her ass against the tile wall, running my mouth over her neck and shoulders.
She wriggles out of my grasp. “Later. I need to get downstairs,” she says, backing into the spray.
“Oh my God! The water is ice cold!” she squeals, jumping away from the water. “The furnace must be out. But I don’t understand why the generator didn’t kick in. Hopefully it’s just this furnace.”
I stick my shoulder under the water. “No one’s showering in this.” I turn the faucet off and grab towels. “How many furnaces in this place?” I ask, wrapping a fluffy white towel around her.
“Four units. But I don’t get it, the systems are all new. I replaced every one of them. The generator’s new, too. My guests. Oh my God! They’re going to have cold showers, too. It’s Christmas morning.”
“Hey.” I cup her face with both hands, forcing her to meet my eyes. “I’m sure it’s just the unit that heats this part of the building. We’ll get it taken care of before your guests are even out of bed. Are the units in the cellar?”
She nods. “They’re still under warranty.”
“Get dressed. I’ll go down.” Because there’s nothing I’d like better than to trade shower sex with a hot woman for a trip to the dusty basement. “If the furnaces are new, there will be a sticker from the company that services them on at least one of the units. I’ll make the call. You have service contracts?”
“Yes. But it’s Christmas. I’m not sure they’ll come out.”
“They will,” I assure her, pulling on my pants. “Don’t worry. This is nothing. I promise, it’ll be okay. All my problems should be this easy to fix.” She doesn’t look like she believes me.
On my way down the stairs, I stick my head onto each floor. It’s cold everywhere. I grab a young man with a nametag—Kevin—and instruct him to light the fireplaces on the first floor where the brunch will be served. He tells me most of the guestrooms have gas fireplaces that throw enough heat to warm the room. That’s all good, but it doesn’t solve the problem of the ice-cold water.
After calling the service company, I look around the basement. My present for Gabrielle is on the concrete floor, the tarp kicked aside, the ribbon torn to shreds. This is not how I left it yesterday afternoon. I lift the gate, dust it off and cover it with the tarp, again.
I poke around a bit more, and while I don’t know much about furnaces, it doesn’t seem like any of them are working. Don’t jump to conclusions JD—not yet. I don’t, but I know we have a fucking problem on our hands. My blood pressure soars while I wait for the repairman.
Within thirty minutes, he’s here. “The furnaces are all down,” the repairman explains. “The rotors have been disabled in all fou
r of them. I have some extras on the van. Not sure if I have four, though.”
“Do the first floor first, then let’s concentrate on the guestrooms. Maybe we can get some space heaters from somewhere if you don’t have enough to get them all running.”
“It’s Christmas morning,” he says unscrewing a panel. “I don’t think anywhere is open.
I already know the answer, but I ask anyway. “What are the chances these furnaces all had this same problem? Today?”
He shakes his head. “Zero. I serviced these myself for the winter a few months ago. They were fine. These are good units. I’d say somebody is up to no good.”
Gabrielle is on her way down. I hear her talking to someone at the top of the stairs.
“Merry Christmas,” she says to the repairman. “Thank you for coming out.”
“It’s the rotors,” I tell her, like I know what they are.
“In all four systems?” she asks.
I nod.
“JD,” she whispers.
"Why don't you go back upstairs? Do whatever needs to be done for the brunch. I’ll stay down here.” I squeeze her arm. “Don’t worry. I called Smith, and he’s on his way over. I’m sure some of the other hotels downtown are jealous that you’re doing the Christmas brunch. Someone’s tweaking you.”
“I thought about that, too. The industry is a small tight community and people talk. I know some of the hoteliers don’t feel we’ve been around long enough to deserve the honor.”
If only it were that simple. “We’ll figure it out,” I tell her. “Once the furnaces are up and running, I’m going to sneak home and change, and then I’ll be back.”
She chews on her lip, and nods. I watch her climb the stairs, and wonder if there’s some other problem waiting to rear its ugly head. Because this is no coincidence. And while it’s possible there’s a crazy hotel owner orchestrating this malicious prank, my money is elsewhere.
