“Ask your friend. He’ll know whether or not I paid him.”
He has a point. On the other hand, he could have had someone in his employ approach Deshawn so he’d have plausible deniability if I found out. Even I know that’s a little paranoid, but who else would have a reason to keep tabs on me? No one, that’s who. But it wouldn’t hurt to ask.
I cross my arms and shrug. “Fine. I’ll ask Deshawn.”
Gabe nods. “Thank you. In the meantime…” He takes a quick step and is directly in front of me again, yanking me to him and lowering his lips to my neck.
I go all fucking liquid in his arms and I hate that. I’m mad at him—probably—and we haven’t resolved anything.
He grips an ass cheek in each hand and lifts me, pressing me against the wall. “Legs around my waist,” he mutters against my neck, his hot breath sending a thrill shooting through me. He licks along my neck, spreading little sharp bites and gentle kisses down to my collarbone. When he reaches the buttons of my white uniform shirt, he undoes the first three and I watch his tongue dart out between my breasts.
He grinds himself against me, the ridge of his erection riding against the soft seam of my black pants. He groans, and I feel the vibration against the swell of my left breast. He squeezes my ass cheeks and whispers, “Legs back down, moon goddess.”
I obey, lowering my legs as he releases me gently, his hands gliding up my back to rest just beneath my shoulder blades as he leans back to look at me while he fastens the buttons he undid less than two minutes ago. He leans his forehead against mine and asks, “Did you get your bloodwork and birth control?”
I stare at his lips, wondering why he won’t kiss me, desperate to know how his mouth feels against mine. “Yes,” I whisper then clear my throat. “Bloodwork’s clean, and I have an IUD. I got your results too.”
“Good. Thank God.”
His eyes are closed and I seize the chance. I barely have an impression of breath and lips against my own before he yanks back and narrows his eyes, accusing me of crossing some invisible line without saying a word.
And even though I’ve known all along that I’m just a diversion for him, just a fairly decent lay, it still hurts. Despite the fact that he could be a psycho stalker, my feelings are trampled by the fact that he won’t even kiss me.
What kind of fucking troll am I?
“Luna,” he whispers, reaching for me again.
I look pointedly at the door. “I’ll see you later, Gabe.”
He frames my face with his hands and steps closer, until his lips are so close to touching mine that if anyone sees us they’ll think we are kissing. But we’re not.
“Luna, I can’t…” His eyes scrunch closed and he shakes his head. “I’m sorry,” murmurs against my lips.
He releases me slowly, his warm hands lingering on my face after his the heat of his body is gone. He drops his arms and gives me a strange, pained look before unlocking the door and leaving.
I look down at the cheeseburger, made with such enjoyment and laughter and I don’t want it anymore. A fucking tear leaks out of one eye and I dash it away before throwing the entire plate in the trash and leaving the break room like it’s on fire.
To hell with men and their idiotic behavior, running hot and cold in the space of three seconds. I should have tried harder to be a lesbian.
Chapter 12
2 a.m. on Friday comes too quickly, and when Gabe walks into the restaurant, I look back at Deshawn, waiting for his verdict. He shakes his head, telling me that it’s not Gabe who’s paying him to watch me. He has a phone number to call if he has a problem, but it’s not a number I recognize, and Dee refused to let me call it from his phone. But he did agree to tell me if he recognized Gabe, and I know Deshawn wouldn’t lie to me. He might refuse to tell me something, but he’s not a liar.
Bastard.
Despite all my misgivings, he tried most of the past eight hours to convince me that whoever this was wants only to protect me, has only my best interests at heart.
But it’s not Gabe and the only other person I know with the funds to pay so much is Dan. And he’s out of the country, hiding from his father, who also has the funds, but probably couldn’t care less about me if he even knows I exist.
Gabe settles at the bar and I put a coffee cup in front of him and pour a cup of our brand spanking new, delicious blend. “Did your ex get the girls?” He asks, taking a hesitant sip.
“Yep. He’ll probably take them to his mom’s, but that’s actually preferable. They’d rather go there.” For all that my ex is a douche bag of the first order, his mother is actually a sweet lady. I don’t mind letting the girls stay there, especially if it means I get a free weekend every few months. “Got one more table I’m waiting on,” I jerk my head in the direction of the table of teenage boys passing a phone around while making lewd comments over whatever picture is being shown. They’ll probably be shitty tippers—teenagers usually are—but I’ve been trying to drop hints at them to leave for the past twenty minutes.
Gabe looks around me at the clock and lifts an eyebrow. “You closed three minutes ago.”
“I know. But Gretchen’s sticking to Phil’s rule about not kicking anyone out just because it’s closing.”
He looks over his shoulder, watching the teenage boys for a few moments. “Give me their ticket,” he says, turning back to me.
I shake my head at him, but hand him the ticket anyway. Instead of paying it, he stands and walks it over to their table. I don’t know what he says to them, but whatever it is seems to work. Within seconds, the entire group of six boys clears out, one stopping to pay as the others trip over one another in their hurry to leave.
And he tips me twenty bucks before running out the door without a backward glance. Gabe links his fingers together on the bar and shoots me a smug little smile.
“What did you say to them?”
He shrugs. “I just reminded them of the time.”
I round the counter to lock the front doors, well aware that I’m not going to get any more information from him unless he wants to share it.
Gabe stands and asks, “Do you want to leave your car here, follow me, or take it back to your house?”
I click the lock into place and head to the teenagers’ table to clean it off, considering. “Take it back to my house and I’ll ride with you.” The plates wobble a little as I stack them and Gabe reaches down to help. I’m a little surprised, but don’t turn down the help.
We haven’t discussed yesterday and the mysterious guardian, but I’m reasonably certain it’s not Gabe. And I decided last night lying in bed that I would trust him. He didn’t lie about the car, and he also told me about the tuition assistance that I haven’t even gotten a letter about yet. I have no reason to believe he’d tell me about those things and lie about something as simple as paying a friend to make sure I didn’t come to any harm.
So maybe I overreacted.
I could be wrong, but I’m making a conscious decision to trust him. Maybe I’m just horny, but part of me feels like I’m making a very intelligent choice. The other part is calling me an idiot.
Fuck that little voice, anyway.
Gabe follows me to my house and waits while I drop the keys off inside. Dad’s not home, and I struggle not to let my curiosity get the best of me. But now that I know he’s not a man-whore…I want to know who he’s seeing. Even if it’s none of my business. I won’t ask, but I’m going to wonder.
I grab my overnight bag and garage door opener out of the car. I climb into Gabe’s car—the little hot rod Batmobile Tesla this time—and I barely have time to push the button to shut the garage before he takes off.
We barely make it out of Corybelle before he jerks the little car off the side of the road and leaps out without a word. I look around, trying to figure out why we’re stopped, watching as he rounds the hood and heads for my door. What the hell?
Gabe snatches my door open and grabs my arm, yanking me roughly out of t
he car. That alone-with-a-stranger panic squeezes my lungs for a second then disappears entirely. He pulls me against him until my breasts are flattened on his chest and scrapes his teeth across the side of my neck. His erection shoves impatiently against my stomach.
“I can’t wait,” he explains, the words muffled and rough against my throat. He spins me around and pushes until I’m lying against the hood of the car, my ass in the air. And I love it. God, I fucking love how he’s so desperate to do me that he can’t wait for us to get wherever we’re going. The thrill of being manhandled sends a bolt of hunger shooting through me, and I can feel the beginnings of arousal dampening my folds.
He grips my hips and pulls me backward a few inches then reaches around to unbutton and unzip my jeans. They slide over my ass and down, but he stops just above my knees. I hear the zipper of his jeans and then he’s there, a hot, hard intrusion pushing into me.
His feet push against mine, shoving my legs together so he can straddle me. He feels thicker this way, his entry almost painful. He’s big anyway, but with my legs closed he feels huge. I drop my head onto the warm metal of the hood and try to relax. Leaning forward, he braces himself with one hand beside my head and slides the other between my legs to tease my clit.
I’m not completely ready, which is probably part of the reason there’s so much discomfort. But he doesn’t move or thrust, just taps his finger against my clit. Then rubs. Then a circle. Then taps again. He sinks into me in the smallest increments, moving forward only when I push backward, seeking more.
“Hands over your head,” he grinds out, still manipulating my clit.
When I lift my arms and lace my fingers together over my head, he sinks fully inside of me, the twinge of pain from this position making me wince. The zipper of his pants presses against me and the crisp hair above his sex scrapes the curves of my ass. He’s too big this way, and I tighten around him involuntarily, my body trying to expel the too-big intrusion. The groan that’s torn from his chest is the most sexual sound I’ve ever heard, throaty and deep, and it causes another reflexive squeeze.
“Jesus, you’re tight,” he grunts, adjusting his stance. He leans forward slightly and brushes a finger up and down my clit. But the pressure isn’t enough and I whimper and push back against him. The strokes change, from one finger directly on the pleasurable bundle of nerves, to one finger on each side, stroking the edges but denying me the direct touch I need.
I circle my hips, chasing his hand, trying to force his hand to the right spot. But he laughs and grinds against me, not thrusting, just pressing and relaxing over and over.
“Please,” I beg, nowhere close to coming, but ready to anyway.
“Good girl,” he breathes and presses two fingers to my clit and rubs. But he rubs too hard, I’m too sensitive, and I try to jerk away. Gabe laughs low in the back of his throat and holds me in place simply by pushing me farther onto the hood of the car. My toes barely touch the ground now, and he tightens his legs on the outside of mine. One hand presses hard against my clit, and the other presses onto my back, holding me in place.
God damn, this is hot.
“This is going to be intense, sweetheart. Get ready,” he warns in his gravelly, midnight voice. Holy shit, it’s sexy.
I whimper, not sure how much more intensity I can take. The fullness is almost unbearable, and the hard pressure on my clit is too much.
But before I can protest, he’s slamming into me, riding me hard and fast. The fingers on my clit knead the too-tender bud with each almost-painful thrust. I want to tell him to stop, but can’t get words past my throat. I love it, but hate it. It’s too much and not enough.
“Come for me, baby,” he chokes out between heaving breaths. “Come, and squeeze my dick.”
The words push me over the edge, and I come, the orgasm almost painful and uncomfortable. But God, he’s right. The pleasure is too concentrated, and my entire body shudders with each pulse, each thrust of his hips and rub of his fingers.
“Ahh, fuck,” he exclaims and slows the relentless pounding to a slower, but no less forceful, rhythm. I can feel him as he comes inside me, can feel the hot rush of liquid and the violent jerks of his cock. I don’t know if he loses his balance or just needs the extra support, but he grunts and the hand on my back moves to just beside my head as he lowers himself slightly onto me.
When he finishes, he pulls his other hand free and slaps it onto the hood next to my face so that I’m framed by both hands. He leans completely into me as he takes great, gulping breaths. His fingers are wet; I can see them glisten in the moonlight and the thought sends another pulse between my legs, causing me to clamp down on him again.
He grunts into my ear then nuzzles softly and whispers, “Thank you, sweet Luna. That was amazing. I knew it would feel good to come inside you without a condom, but that was unbelievable.” He pulls out slightly and slides back in. “You’re so wet, moon goddess, so full of my cum. You made me come so hard.”
I’ve never been overly sexual, never been one to talk dirty or let the act become too raw. But everything about this man is awakening a part of me that I’ve never known about; a secret, hidden trove of fantasies that never would have occurred to me to pursue. But with him, I want it. I want to hear him whisper lewd things in my ear, to have him tell me exactly what he wants, to tell him what I want…the desires he’s bringing forth are more than just sexual, and I’m not sure how to deal with it at all.
Gabe kisses my temple and pulls away slowly. A warm pressure against my back tells me he doesn’t want me to rise yet, and I crane my neck to look at him. He’s staring down, watching as he pulls out, and groans when his softened cock falls free. A trickle of warm liquid follows, and I shudder. One hand still on my back, he uses the other to smear the wetness, spreading it between my legs until he’s satisfied.
Then he holds a finger to my lips and whispers, “Taste me.”
It’s so erotic, and sort of gross at the same time. But I open my mouth and suck his finger all the way in, swirling my tongue around the digit until he pulls it free. The taste isn’t as bad as I thought, mostly bland, but musky with a slightly sweaty undertone.
He straightens and pulls me up with him, turning me to face him and wrapping his arms around my waist. With a deep, trembling breath, he leans back and smiles down at me.
“Let’s get going.”
I nod and take a step back, mentally and physically. This is almost too much. Neither of us speaks as we restore our clothes and climb back in the car.
We head in the opposite direction of Mobile and I lean back and watch, content to ride in the silence and wait to see where he’s taking us. When he pulls onto I-10 and heads east, I have to ask though.
“Where are we going?”
He smiles over at me and reaches for my hand. I let him take it and watch, a little surprised, when he kisses my fingers. It’s somehow more affectionate than the sex. “Orange Beach. I have a house there.”
Of course he does. I don’t respond, just turn to watch the bay go by out the window, though my mind is on how his hand dwarfs mine. The reflection of the moon on the water is hypnotic, and before I realize it, I lose my balance.
I jerk my eyes open, and Gabe murmurs against my hair, “Easy, baby. You fell asleep.”
I blink up at him, not at all sure why he’s so close.
Oh. He’s carrying me up a well-lit set of steps into a house that’s as big as my neighborhood. I can hear the ocean whooshing somewhere, and another more mechanical swishing is barely discernible. I get a glimpse of solar panels in the front yard for an instant before he’s pushing the door open and striding through, still holding me in his arms.
He doesn’t pause to close the door, but it closes anyway. Maybe he kicked it. I don’t know. I snuggle into his neck, pressing my nose against the hollow at the base of his throat and inhaling the faint scent of cedar and…cloves. I hum, happy to have identified the scent that’s eluded me before.
Then tears
prick my eyes as I realize this is the first time in my life I’ve been comfortable being held by a man and only the second time I’ve been held this way. It seems a silly thing to cry over, but it’s significant for me. I’ve always wanted to be not just loved, but cherished. While Gabe may not cherish or love me, it certainly feels that way while he carries me up the stairs and into a dark room. He lowers me gently to a soft bed and pulls my shoes off, then my pants. He leaves my underwear on, but slides an arm around my back and whispers, “Sit up for me, sweetheart.”
He pulls me to a sitting position and my shirt flies off right before I feel the pressure release as he unsnaps my bra. I know I should push him away, tell him I’m too tired, but before I can, he’s pulling a soft T-shirt over my head and lowering me back to the pillows. The blankets slide from underneath me then I’m snuggled beneath them. He kisses my forehead lightly and says, “Sleep, sweetheart.”
I smile a little, too sleepy to really laugh. I’ve just been tucked in.
* * * *
I wake to the exceptionally comforting sound of the ocean and that strange, almost mechanical whir from last night. A few seconds pass before I’m awake enough to notice the heavy arm slung over my waist and the hairy leg tucked between mine. I snuggle in a little closer, pushing my butt back to check out the “situation.”
Gabe huffs a little into my hair when I come into contact with his morning erection. I want to flip over and touch him, stroke him while he sleeps. But he shifts a little and tightens his arm around my waist.
“Good morning,” he rumbles.
“Morning,” I respond, stretching in his arms.
“Breakfast is pretty limited,” he says, pulling on me until I roll over to face him. He pulls the sheet over his mouth and nose and explains, “I only come out here about once a month. I have a lady that comes to cook and clean for the weekends I’m here, but I didn’t let her know I was coming.” The corners of his eyes crinkle and I know he’s smiling even though I can’t see his mouth. “I wanted us to be alone,” his voice comes out low and villainous, and I giggle a little at how silly a grown man of…how the hell old is he?
Luna Exposed Page 15
