Crys And Gabe

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Crys And Gabe Page 9

by J. A. Hornbuckle


  "Your ink, though. Shit, Crys. Hot," he muttered as his hands traced the vines and leaves that twisted from my wrists up to my collar bones.

  I gave a soft chuckle. "You drew it, dickhead. Of course you're going to think it's hot."

  He raised his eyes to mine.

  "So?" He smirked, his fingers moving to the red poppies that adorned the black vines and leaves. His hands moved to my breasts and gently caressed the jewelry and my puckered nipples.

  "Did it hurt?" he asked, bending to kiss and tongue each pearled nub.

  "Not as much as the tattooing did," I admitted, rubbing my hands over his broad shoulders.

  He found the side zipper of my skirt and slowly lowered it. The skirt fell down around my ankles.

  "This chain is smokin'," he breathed, his hands following the waist chain that was connected to my navel jewelry and his hands stroked up my sides to fondle my breasts again. "Do you always coordinate your jewelry so that it matches?"

  I found my breathing was heavier as I tried to answer and my heartbeat was making itself felt between my legs.

  "Most of the time. If not by color, then by design," I finally managed to say.

  Gabe's hands ran down my sides and around to capture my ass. His hands caressed around the bared globes before his fingers slid to touch the strap of my thong lying between them.

  "Not much for wearing underwear, are you?" he said softly, his lips trailing over my stomach, making my muscles twitch.

  "I'm covered when in public," I said on a sigh. Words were starting to elude me but I sure as shit wasn't going to complain.

  "Beautiful ass, Crys," he said, dipping his tongue in my navel, as his hands moved to the sides of my hips and dragged my thong down.

  I wiggled a bit to help him get my panties off faster.

  This slow shit was going to kill me.

  I wanted him between my legs, like, now.

  "Aw, fuck," he moaned and pulled back away from me.

  "What?" I asked.

  "Your fucking fishnets," he said almost on a whisper as his eyes raised to mine. "Can we leave them on?"

  I rolled my eyes as I pulled away from his hands and moved up onto the bed, disentangling myself from the skirt and panties. "Perv."

  "Goddess," he said turning to follow me with his eyes.

  "You want me to undress you?" I asked, rolling to my side with my head on my hand. But he was completely naked before I even finished my question.

  "Horny, much?" I asked trying not to laugh.

  "I've wanted you for eight fucking years, Kitten. Should I wait another minute or two in order for you to take my clothes off?"

  The man had a point.

  I watched as he grabbed a condom out of the drawer. He was frowning as he closed the drawer softly.

  "What?"

  "Nothing. Or I should say, nothing I want to talk about right at this moment," he said, opening the foil but not taking the condom out yet. He just sat there quietly, not moving for a few heartbeats.

  "Gabe?" I asked softly.

  "It's just that you have quite a stash of condoms in there, Kitten," he said not looking at me.

  "And?"

  He turned his face to me and captured my eyes.

  "I don't like to think about you with other guys," he admitted.

  I didn't know what to say or even how to react.

  "You would prefer that I have…" I started.

  "Would you consider going on the pill?" he interrupted.

  Oh-kay, I thought. This was a complete change from what we had been leading up to and I wasn't sure where he thought this conversation would go.

  "I already am," I admitted.

  He stared at me. "Then why did we use one earlier, Kitten?"

  I rolled my lips inward and bit down on them softly as I tried to think how much information to give. In for a penny, in for a pound, I heard my dad say in my head.

  "Uh, until we can both have clean test results," I said softly.

  "You don't think I'm clean?" he asked.

  "That's not what I said or even meant, Gabe," I countered quickly. "There's a lot of blood in my job. And, in some cases, I'm touching a stranger's genitals. I don't want a disease but, more importantly, I don't want to spread disease."

  He was back to staring at me.

  "And, because, I can pretty much figure that you haven't been living like a monk while you've been gone since you weren't a monk when you left," I continued trying to smile. Even when it was genuine, my smile was crooked. From what I've been told, it gets even more crooked when I'm trying to fake it.

  He had dropped his eyes and was looking down at the condom packet.

  The tension pouring off him was almost palpable.

  I waited.

  "That biker guy…" he started.

  "Steven," I said. "His name is Steven."

  He shot a look at me. "What-the-fuck-ever. He said that you were sleeping with him up until last week?"

  I was my turn to stare. What? We were going to play true confessions?

  Not with me naked, we weren't.

  I moved to the other side of the bed and rolled my fishnets off before moving to the dresser for a nightshirt.

  Fucking hell, I thought as I picked up my clothes from the floor and moved to the hamper.

  "Well?" Gabe asked, still in his place on the bed.

  "Well, what?" I asked settling the nightshirt around my hips.

  "Stop it, Crys. You know what I'm asking," he said softly but with a firm tone.

  "So, do you want a list?" Without thinking I put my hands on my hips.

  "A what?" he asked, his cheeks were flushed.

  "A freaking list, Gabe. Of all the guys I've fucked." Stepping towards him while I enunciated very slowly.

  "Now you're pissed?" He asked incredulously. "What the fuck have you got to be pissed about?"

  "You better watch your tone, Gabriel," I warned.

  Stare down time.

  We'd played this game a lot when we were little and he had always won.

  I didn't give a fuck.

  This time, I'd win.

  "Here's what I know, you stupid, dumb fuck," I muttered. "I was just getting ready to have what I know would be the best sex of my life. And how did I know, above and beyond all the sex I've had, that it would be the best? Because I was going to have it with you, the person who used to be my most favorite person in my whole fucking world."

  "Crystal…" he warned.

  "But, no. You have to turn it into something else because I happen to have 'quite a stash' of condoms." My body was buzzing I was so pissed off.

  "I begged you to take me, Gabe. Begged. And you refused. Both. Fucking. Times," I yelled. "I am a grown woman. I have needs. I've had lovers. Get the fuck over it!"

  I paused, not sure I was going to be able to finish without crying. "You didn't fucking want me, Gabe. You told me so. And you told anyone else that would listen, too."

  My voice broke and I turned away from him, stomping into the bathroom before slamming and locking the door.

  I took out the nipple dangle and my waist chain, my fingers fumbling with the delicate latches and left them on the counter before I moved to remove the small amount of makeup I had been able to apply earlier. Actually, I kind of liked how easy it was to remove.

  I brushed and flossed my teeth.

  I moisturized everywhere.

  Dr. Phil would probably call it 'self-soothing'.

  And it was. All these little things gave me something to concentrate on instead of the asshole I'd left on my bed.

  Why do guys have vocal cords? Shouldn't that be something they have to earn?

  I thought it was a great idea.

  There wasn't anything else to do even though I didn't want to go back out there.

  I opened the door and was not surprised to find him not in the room. I glanced and saw that his boots were still there, though.

  Damn.

  I was hoping he was gone.

  E
ven though I heard my heart give a sigh of relief.

  Stupid heart.

  I crawled into bed and turned off the light, facing the windows.

  What a fucking night.

  Chapter Eleven

  What a fucking night, Gabe thought sitting at the dining room table in his barely buttoned jeans and nursing a beer.

  Fucked up.

  He'd fucked up with her again.

  Just when things were starting to get good, both physically and heart-wise.

  He knew he was just gonna have to suck it up and apologize, even though he wasn't sorry for what he said in the least.

  He really did hate to think of her with other guys.

  But, she had a point, too.

  He'd been with a lot of girls growing up and then with a few women.

  But none like her.

  No one compared to Crys.

  Gabe rinsed out his beer bottle before putting it in the recycle bin. He leaned against the sink, not wanting to have to go back down the hall to the bedroom.

  He didn't want to be a jealous dick, but he was.

  Jealous of anyone who had held a place in her heart, who had held her body.

  He remembered her moans from just kissing and felt his cock move.

  Christ!

  Just from kissing him, she'd moaned.

  Gabe spied his guitar case still propped up on the side of the couch and made his way to it.

  He sat back down in the dining room chair and automatically began tuning.

  Music helped.

  Music had always helped them, especially on the few occasions they'd fought.

  Well, at least before the fights that had occurred when they were both in school. Those fights were bad and, if what Crys had said was true, had left scars.

  He tooled around with a few chords before he started making his way to Toad the Wet Sprockets, "Something's Always Wrong".

  Seemed like the perfect song for the moment.

  Gabe saw her in the hallway, leaning against the wall, and he stopped playing as their eyes caught.

  "I'm sorry, Kitten," he said softly, sincerely.

  She didn't say anything but just continued to look at him. And his heart took a hit at her lack of response.

  Gabe softly strummed before he begin to sing. As always, she picked up the echo lyrics in the chorus only this time, he saw the tears that tracked down her face as she sang with him.

  Never leaving her spot up against the hallway wall, but holding onto herself with both inked arms wrapped around her waist.

  God, he loved her and felt his stomach clench as he recognized that he'd hurt her with just his words, his fucked up attitude. But, unlike when they were little, and forgiveness was instantaneous, she wasn't telling him it was okay after his apology.

  When the song ended, their eyes continued to bridge the twelve or so feet between them. Holding, melding, clinging.

  He moved straight into 'Blackbird', so he could hear her clear, sweet voice. The alto voice that had always given him goosebumps, that made a regular song mean so much more.

  "I Will Remember You, Gabe," she instructed softly when the last notes of Blackbird still hung in the air.

  His fingers remembered the Amy Grant song even if his heart didn't want to.

  It was the last song his mom sang to them before she got so sick and had to go into the hospital. The last time she'd been in the woods that she loved so much, surrounded by the people she didn't want to leave, hearing the voices that chimed in when her voice became too weak to finish the song.

  He couldn't remember, but didn't think he'd ever played it since her funeral.

  It still broke his heart to hear those lyrics and to hear it sung by Crys, with all their history, broke into his heart in a completely different way.

  He stopped playing, holding his hand on the strings so no note could hang in the silence.

  Eyes raised to hers, Gabe said, "I love you, Crys."

  "You're crying, you pussy," she said with a small soft laugh. "Of course you love me. You always have."

  He stared at her, knowing that she spoke the truth.

  "And I love you, too, Gabe," she almost whispered, her eyes glued to his. "Always have. Probably always will."

  He felt the tear track down his face before he realized she'd been right about the crying thing.

  His hand scrubbed over his face as he put the guitar aside.

  But when he opened his eyes, he saw his girl raising her leg to straddle his lap.

  "Hold me, Gay," she whispered as she settled, wrapping her arms around his neck and putting her mouth alongside his ear.

  She didn't need to ask twice as he burrowed his face into her neck and wrapped his arms around her tiny waist.

  They sat there, the two of them, wrapped around each other for a few quiet moments.

  "Now, are you gonna play nice or are we gonna have to have a rough, bruise-inducing fuck session to put this behind us?"

  "Shit, Crys," he mumbled against her skin. "Why can't we do both?"

  "Because, shit for brains, you can't do both and you know it," she chuckled against his hair.

  She pulled back from him, so her eyes were on his.

  "Just love me, Gabe, 'kay?" she said.

  "I do, Crys. I really do," he said, pointing his mouth up towards hers. "But can we get tested tomorrow?"

  *.*.*.*.*

  It had taken me more than a few minutes to calm my ass down after what he had wanted to sling at me, in the most roundabout, Gabe-like way possible.

  I knew he was jealous.

  Just like I'd been jealous back in school.

  But I'd learned that jealousy didn't have a place in real love.

  Feeling jealous had more to do with the person who felt it so much more than the one they were jealous about. And I freaking chose to not be jealous about Gabe and his life when he left at eighteen. And he needed to learn to do the same about my love-life as well.

  Obviously, it was hard to do. But I fucking well did it.

  I was not about to go there again.

  Trying to sleep was out of the question even though it was dark. I must've slept my quota earlier. After the first time of being with him.

  Gabe.

  I hated to hurt him but he needed to realize that up until the hospital, I had no way of knowing that he wanted me. And, even though I loved him, I still was going to protect my heart from him. I had to protect my heart from him, especially him.

  I heard the tuning of his guitar and made my way out of bed, down the hall.

  With only the stove light as illumination, I saw him sitting at the dining room table, his head pointing towards the floor as he started the first song.

  I felt the first few tears roll down my cheeks watching him as he played.

  Fucking figures.

  Toad the Wet Sprocket.

  The song where he always fucked up the words.

  But, the lyrics were perfect for tonight.

  The bastard always knew what song would capture a mood.

  I sang the counter chorus and watched him look at me, without surprise on his face.

  He knew.

  He knew music always drew me in as much as it drew him.

  But he didn't stop there, the ass-wipe.

  Moved straight into 'Blackbird'.

  One of my own personal, quiet songs.

  Shithead.

  "Amy Grant's 'I Will Remember You'," I instructed before Blackbird's dying notes even shimmered their way out of the room. He was gonna hit me with Blackbird then I was gonna hit him with the memories of remembrance.

  And I wasn't sorry for the emotion I saw playing across his face as his eyes leaked on the memories of his mom…and of me.

  'Take that, mo-fo', I thought as I watched him play, his eyes roaming over my face but his brain going back to that summer when he lost his mother.

  When we were still extensions of each other.

  A two headed dragon that shared one heart.

&n
bsp; I didn't allow him any opportunity to refuse as I draped myself across his lap and held him to me. My whole life could be within the circle of my arms and I frigging well knew it.

  Let's just hope that I could get him to the place of no lies, no pulling away, no hurting me until I crumble scenarios.

  "I love you," I whispered against his hair. "So just love me back, 'kay?"

  "I do," he whispered back.

  And this time I fucking chose to believe him.

  And, you better believe we were going to be getting those tests done as soon as freaking possible.

  *.*.*.*.*

  He felt her hot hand in his as she basically dragged him back down the hall to her room, to her bed.

  The lights were all off as they tumbled together into the mussed covers and she, with her hand on the back of his neck, dragged his face to hers.

  He loved kissing her.

  He wanted her with every molecule of his being and, if he was reading her kisses correctly, she wanted him just as much.

  "Love you, Kess," Gabe mumbled moving his lips from hers to gently nip at her neck.

  He felt her arch herself into his body, on the edge of the bed with their legs dangling off the side. Her hips pressed the folds of herself against him to rub, exciting them both.

  "Show me," she murmured as his hands lifted her t-shirt from her thighs and up over her head.

  He loved that she didn't mince words, that she told him what she wanted. What she wanted with either words, sighs or moans.

  Her hands reached for his jeans, sliding beneath the fabric that he hadn't bothered to finish buttoning and that he hadn't felt the need to wear underwear beneath.

  Skin to skin, her soft hand stroked his hardness and he had to arch himself away from her chest, her mouth, as his lower portions contracted towards her.

  After a few seconds, she reached the other hand down to cup his balls.

  "Christ!" He moaned just from the feel of her soft, hot hands on him.

  "Settle, Gabe," she whispered soft but hot against his neck.

  She slid the condom on, which he assumed was the one he'd opened earlier and that his head had been done in by just thinking about her and other guys. He was vaguely aware of her using her feet to slide his jeans the rest of the way down.

  "I want to feel you inside me, Gabe," she whispered again, her breath heating his skin.

 

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