Gabriel's Rapture gi-2

by Sylvain Reynard

  away her hand.

  Her eyes widened in surprise. “That remark was beneath you.”

  After a moment, the anger seemed to seep out of him. His shoul-

  ders slumped. “Forgive me.”

  “Let’s not waste our time together arguing.”

  “Agreed. But I don’t like the idea of Paul emailing you. Although

  I suppose you could be friends with worse persons.” Gabriel sounded unusually prim.

  She smiled and pressed her lips to his cheek. “There’s the Profes-

  sor Emerson I know and love.”

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  Sylvain Reynard

  He pulled out his phone so he could take her picture against the

  background of the beautiful view. Julia was laughing, and he was

  taking picture after picture when his phone began to ring. The not so dulcet tones of London’s Big Ben sounded between them.

  Julia gave him a challenging look.

  He grimaced and pulled her into an intense kiss. He cupped her

  face with his hand, determinedly parting her lips with his own and gently slipping his tongue inside.

  She kissed him back, wrapping her arms around his waist to pull

  him closer. And all the while, Big Ben chimed.

  “You aren’t going to answer it?” she finally got a chance to ask.

  “No. I told you earlier, I wasn’t going to speak to her.”

  He pressed his lips to Julia’s once again, but only briefly.

  “I feel sorry for her,” Julia said.

  “Why?”

  “Because she created a child with you. Because she still wants

  you, but she’s lost you. If I were to lose you to someone else, I’d be devastated.”

  Gabriel huffed impatiently. “You aren’t going to lose me. Stop

  that.”

  Julia smiled weakly. “Um, I need to say something.”

  He moved back.

  “This is coming from my concern for you. I want you to know

  that.” She looked at him in earnest. “I feel sorry for Paulina, but it’s clear that she’s been holding what happened over your head in order to keep you in her life. I’m wondering if she gets into trouble just so you’ll rescue her. I think it’s time for her to develop an emotional attachment to someone else. Someone she can fall in love with.”

  “I don’t disagree,” he said stiffly.

  “What if she can’t be happy until she lets you go? You let her go

  and you found me. It would be a mercy on your part for you to let

  her go so she can find her own happiness.”

  Gabriel nodded grimly and kissed her forehead but refused to

  say anything more on the subject.

  The rest of their stay in Florence was a happy one, a counterfeit

  honeymoon of a sort. They frequented various churches and museums

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  Gabriel’s Rapture

  during the day, in between returns to their hotel, where they would make love sometimes slowly and sometimes madly. Every evening

  Gabriel would choose a different restaurant for dinner, and they

  would walk home afterward, pausing on one of the bridges to make

  out like teenagers in the cool evening air.

  On their last evening in Florence, Gabriel took Julia to Caffé

  Concerto, one of his favorite restaurants, which was positioned on the banks of the Arno. They spent several hours over a multi-course dinner, leisurely talking about their holiday and their burgeoning sexual relationship. They both confessed that the past week had been an awakening of sorts — for Julia, an awakening to the mysteries of eros; for Gabriel, an awakening to the mysteries of the four loves intertwined.

  In conversation, he final y revealed his surprise. He’d rented a

  villa in Umbria for their second week of holidays. He promised to

  take her to Venice and Rome on their next vacation, possibly in the summer after they visited Oxford.

  After dinner, Gabriel led her one last time to the Duomo. “I need

  to kiss you,” he whispered, pulling her body close to his.

  She was going to reply, she was going to tell him to take her to

  the hotel and mark her body in a deeper way, but she was interrupted.

  “Beautiful lady! Some money for an old man…” A voice called

  to her in Italian from the front steps of the Duomo.

  Unthinkingly, Julia leaned around Gabriel to discover who was

  speaking. The man continued, begging for money so he could buy

  something to eat.

  Gabriel caught her arm before she could approach the steps.

  “Come away, love.”

  “But he’s hungry. And it’s so cold.”

  “The police will come around and carry him off. They don’t like

  panhandlers in the city center.”

  “People are free to come and sit on the steps of a church. Sanctuary…” she mused.

  “The medieval concept of sanctuary no longer exists. Western governments abolished it, starting with England in the seventeenth century.” Gabriel grumbled as she opened her purse and withdrew

  a twenty Euro note.

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  Sylvain Reynard

  “So much?” He frowned.

  “It’s all I have. And look, Gabriel.” She gestured to the man’s

  crutches.

  “A clever ruse,” he complained.

  Julia fixed her lover with a very disappointed look. “I know what

  it’s like to be hungry.” She took a step in the beggar’s direction but Gabriel pulled her back.

  “He’ll spend the money on wine or drugs. It isn’t going to help

  him.”

  “Even a drug addict deserves a little kindness.”

  Gabriel flinched.

  She looked over at the beggar. “St. Francis of Assisi didn’t make

  his charity conditional. He gave to whoever asked.”

  Gabriel rolled his eyes. There was no way he was going to win

  an argument with Julianne when she invoked St. Francis. No one

  could win against that kind of argument.

  “If I give him something, he will know that someone cared enough

  to help him. No matter what he does with the money that will be a

  good thing. Don’t deprive me of an opportunity to give.” She tried to step around Gabriel but he blocked her path. He took the bill from her hand and added something to it from his own pocket, then he

  handed the money to the beggar.

  The two men had a quiet exchange in Italian, and the poor man

  blew kisses to Julia and tried in vain to shake Gabriel’s hand.

  He retreated, taking her arm and leading her away.

  “What did he say?”

  “He asked me to thank the angel for her mercy.”

  Julia stopped him so she could kiss at his frown until it morphed

  into a smile. “Thank you.”

  “I’m not the angel he was referring to,” he growled, kissing her

  in return.

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  Chapter 5

  The next morning, a limousine met the happy couple at the train

  station in Perugia. The driver conveyed them down the winding

  roads to an estate near Todi, a medieval village.

  “Is this the villa?” Julia was in awe as they traveled up the long, private drive to what looked like a mansion on a hill. It was a three-story stone structure that sat on several acres of land dotted with cypress and olive trees.

  As they drove, Gabriel pointed out a large mixed-fruit orchard

  that in warmer weather grew figs, peaches, and pomegranates. Nestled beside the villa was an infinity pool surrounded by a bed of lavender.

  Julia could almost smell the fragrance from inside the car, and she vowed at that moment to gather a few sprigs to perfume the sheets

  of
their bed.

  “Do you like it?” He searched her face eagerly, hoping that she

  would be pleased.

  “I love it. When you said you were renting a villa, I didn’t think it would be so opulent.”

  “Wait till you see inside. They have a fireplace and a hot tub on

  the upstairs balcony.”

  “I didn’t bring a bathing suit.”

  “Who said anything about needing a bathing suit?” He moved

  his eyebrows suggestively, and Julia laughed.

  A black Mercedes sat in the driveway so they could visit the

  neighboring villages, including Assisi, which was a destination of particular interest for Julia.

  The housekeeper of the villa had stocked the kitchen with food

  and wine in anticipation of their arrival. Julia rolled her eyes when she discovered several bottles of imported cranberry juice in the pantry.

  Sylvain Reynard

  Professor Gabriel “Overprotective” Emerson strikes again.

  “What do you think?” he asked, settling his hands on her waist

  as they stood together in the large, fully equipped kitchen.

  “It’s perfect.”

  “I was worried you wouldn’t like being in the middle of Umbria.

  But I thought it would be good for us to spend some quiet time

  together.”

  Julia arched an eyebrow. “Our times together usually aren’t quiet, Professor.”

  “That’s because you drive me mad with desire.” He gave her an

  impassioned kiss.

  “Let’s stay in tonight. We can cook together, if you like, and

  maybe relax by the fire.”

  “Sounds good.” She kissed him once again.

  “I’ll carry the luggage upstairs while you explore the house. The

  hot tub is on the terrace just outside the master bedroom. I’ll meet you there in fifteen minutes.”

  She acquiesced with a smile.

  “Oh, and, Miss Mitchell…”

  “Yes?”

  “No clothes for the rest of the evening.”

  She squealed and scampered up the stairs.

  Not only was the house tastefully decorated in various shades of

  cream and white, but it boasted a very romantic master bedroom on

  the second floor that was punctuated by a canopy bed. Julia found

  herself trying the bed out just for a moment before taking her toiletry case into the washroom.

  She unpacked her makeup and placed her shampoo and bath gel

  in the large, open shower. She pinned her hair up and took off all her clothes, wrapping herself in an ivory towel. She’d never skinny dipped before, but she was looking forward to it.

  As she folded her clothes and placed them on the vanity, she

  heard music coming from the bedroom. She recognized the song

  “Don’t Know Why” by Norah Jones. Gabriel thought of everything.

  His voice outside the bathroom door reconfirmed that. “I brought

  up some antipasti and a bottle of wine, in case you’re hungry. See you outside.”

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  Gabriel’s Rapture

  “I’ll be there in a minute,” she called.

  Julia looked at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were bright with

  excitement, and her cheeks were a healthy pink. She was in love. She was happy. And she was (she thought) about to christen the hot tub with her beloved underneath a darkening Umbrian sky.

  On her way to the terrace, she saw Gabriel’s discarded clothes

  hanging over the back of a chair. The cold evening breeze wafted in through the open door, ruffling her hair, making the pink of her skin pinker still. Gabriel was naked and waiting for her.

  She walked out onto the terrace and waited until she had his

  complete attention. Then she dropped the towel.

  P

  Near Burlington, Vermont, Paul Virgil Norris was wrapping

  Christmas presents at his parents’ kitchen table: presents for his family, for his sister, and finally, for the woman for whom his heart pined.

  It was, perhaps, surprising to see a two-hundred-pound rugby

  player with bolts of Christmas wrap and Scotch tape, painstakingly measuring before he put scissors to paper. A bottle of maple syrup, a stuffed toy Holstein, and two figurines were proudly arranged in front of him. The figurines were a curiosity, something he’d found in a comic book store in Toronto. One was supposed to be Dante,

  dressed as a crusading soldier with St. George’s cross on his chain mail chest, while the other was a blond-haired, blue-eyed anachronism of a Beatrice in the garb of a medieval princess.

  Sadly, the toy company neglected to make a Virgil action figure.

  (Virgil, apparently, was not worthy of action.) Paul begged to differ, and so he decided to write to the toy company to alert them to their regrettable oversight.

  He wrapped each item carefully and placed them in a cardboard

  box with bubble wrap. He signed a Christmas card with a few words, trying desperately to sound casual in order to disguise his growing feelings, and taped the box shut, neatly addressing it to Miss Julianne Mitchell.

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  Sylvain Reynard

  P

  After a very enjoyable time in the hot tub, Gabriel prepared an

  Umbrian dinner. Bruschetta con pomodoro e basilico, tagliatelle with olive oil and black truffles from the villa’s estate, and a cheese course with local artisan cheeses and bread. They ate their fill, laughing and drinking a fine white wine from Orvieto in the candlelight. After

  dinner, Gabriel made a nest of blankets and pillows on the floor in front of the living room fireplace.

  He plugged his iPhone into the sound system so they could

  continue enjoying his Loving Julianne playlist. Then he took her into his arms as they sat on the floor, finishing their wine, while the sounds of medieval chant swirled around their heads. They were

  naked, wrapped in blankets, and unashamed.

  “The music is beautiful. What is it?” She closed her eyes as she

  focused on the female voices, which were singing a cappella.

  “‘Gaudete’ by The Mediaeval Baebes. It’s a Christmas song.”

  “That’s quite the name for a music group.”

  “They’re very talented. I saw them live the last time they came

  to Toronto.”

  “Oh, really?”

  Gabriel smirked at her. “Are you jealous Miss Mitchell?”

  “Should I be?”

  “No. My arms are full. Completely.”

  Their talking ceased against the backdrop of celestial voices as

  their kisses began. Soon their bodies were tangling naked next to

  the fire.

  In the glow of the orange flames, Julia pushed Gabriel down on

  his back and straddled his hips. He grinned as he let her lead, welcoming her newfound confidence. “It isn’t so scary, being on top, is it?”

  “No. But I’m more comfortable with you now. I think the wall

  sex back at the hotel shook loose my inhibitions.”

  He wondered silently what other inhibitions he could shake loose

  with various kinds of sex — shower sex, for example. Or perhaps, the holy grail of domestic coupling — kitchen table sex.

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  Gabriel’s Rapture

  Her voice interrupted his thoughts. “I want to please you.”

  “You do. So much.”

  She reached a hand behind her and lightly touched the top of

  his groin. “With my mouth. I feel badly that I haven’t been able to reciprocate. You’ve been so generous.”

  His body reacted to her low whisper and hesitant hand. “Julianne,

  there’s no quid pro quo here. I do things with you because I want to.” His lips curled up into a half-smile. “But since you’re offering…”

 
“I know men prefer it.”

  He shrugged. “Great sex will always be better. In comparison,

  everything else could only be an amuse bouche.” He winked at her wickedly, squeezing her hip for emphasis.

  “Is this position okay? With you lying down or…?”

  “It’s fine,” he whispered, his eyes suddenly alight.

  “I suppose it’s better than me on my knees.” She watched his

  reaction from the corner of her eye.

  “That’s right. I, on the other hand, am happy to kneel before my

  Princess in order to pleasure her. As I have already demonstrated.”

  Julia laughed softly. Then her smile disappeared. “I need to tell

  you something.”

  He gazed up at her expectantly.

  “I have a gag reflex.”

  A furrow appeared between his eyebrows. “I’d be worried if you

  didn’t.”

  Julianne avoided his probing expression as her hand slipped

  lower. “Mine is kind of strong.”

  His hand closed over hers.

  “It won’t be an issue, darling. I promise.” He squeezed her hand.

  She moved farther down, and he began to weave her hair around

  his fingers, tugging playfully.

  Julia froze.

  For an oblivious moment, he toyed with her long, silken hair.

  Then he realized that she wasn’t moving. “What’s wrong?”

  “Please don’t hold my head down.”

  “I wasn’t going to.” He sounded perturbed.

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  She remained perfectly still, waiting. For what, he didn’t know.

  He let go of her hair so he could lift her chin. “Sweetheart?”

  “Um, it’s only because Idon’twanttothrowuponyou.”

  “What was that?”

  She ducked her head. “I’ve — thrown up — before.”

  He stared at her incredulously. “What…after?”

  “Um, no.”

  Gabriel was silent for some time, then his eyes narrowed. “Were

  you sick because of a gag reflex, or because that bastard held you down?”

  She cringed, her head moving in the slightest of nods.

  Gabriel swore, his anger burning blue. He sat up swiftly, rubbing

  his face with his hands.

  In the past, he hadn’t been tender with his sexual conquests,

  although he’d prided himself on maintaining some vestige of good

  manners. Less so when he was doing cocaine. Despite the Baccha-nalia that he’d participated in, parties that had approximated the decadence of Rome on occasion, he’d never, ever held a girl’s head down until she vomited. Nobody did that. Not even the drug dealers and addicts he used to hang around with did that, and they had no boundaries or moral compunctions at al . Only an incredibly