Page 38

“Hold on a little longer, baby,” he says over his shoulder, swerving the bike again.

It’s only then I realize he’s taking us downriver where the landscape changes from jovial residential gripped in Halloween mania, to quieter, slightly more industrial, but more peaceful and private than the streets we left behind.

He parks the bike between two warehouses, the smell of warm brick heavy in the air, faint music from a few streets over the perfect backdrop.

“Off the bike, baby. I need your jeans down, ass up in the air.” I shudder at the command in his voice, the need evident in the rough way he growls the words.

I do as he says, kicking my leg over the bike carefully before standing beside the bike, my shaky hands going to my jean buttons.

Yeah get it, Bren! You skanky public Gabe boner!”

I roll my eyes and tell Frank to get out of my head and to stop watching and narrating what’s happening. This is for me and Gabe. Not all three of us. Ew. That's too weird, even for me and all the weird things I’ve learned the past few days.

Gabe must see the look on my face because he cups my face, pressing his lips hard against mine, demanding entrance, his tongue sweeping across mine, claiming what’s already his.

“Pants. Down.”

“Yes. Sir,” I sass and I don’t miss the way Gabe’s gold gaze darkens slightly.

The look he gives me is hot enough to burn and I don’t hesitate to unbutton my jeans, hurriedly tear down the zipper and shove my jeans and panties down to my knees. I do exactly as Gabe said. Facing the bike I turn to look at him over my shoulder, holding his gaze as I bend at the waist, only stopping when my chest hits the leather seat, my nipples aching in my bra.

“Fuuuuck, look at you.” Gabe says thickly, his rough hand smoothing the skin of my ass cheek, gripping it, opening me up to his gaze. “I love how you drip for me, Bren.”

Cool air hits my core before it's replaced with a hot, wet tongue, spearing my core, lapping at my juices before they run down my legs. I jump a little when Gabe’s hand lands with a slap on my ass, both of his hands gripping my hips to keep me steady while he devours me from the inside.

I reach back, wanting, no, needing to feel Gabe. My hand lands in his hair and instead of running my fingers through the short strands, I end up gripping them in my fist, pulling him tighter into me as my orgasm shoots through me.

“Gabe!” I gasp, eyes closed, cheek against the warm leather of his bike.

“This is gonna be fast, baby. I can’t hold back. Not with you, never with you,” Gabe mumbles as he lines himself up and shoves himself deep.

“Ah!” I call out, my legs beginning to tremble at the feel of his thick cock filling me completely.

“That's it, baby. Grip my cock, just like that,” he whispers into my hair as he leans over me, covering me with his bulk. Nowhere has ever felt safer.

“Please, Gabe, I-I I’m-”

“I know baby, I’ve got you.”

Gabe wraps an arm around my chest, pulling me to stand with him, holding me, my back to his chest as he pounds into me. The hand on my hip slides around to my belly and my core clenches because I know what's coming. A shiver runs through me as his hand drifts lower, lower until his finger runs over my swollen bud, lower still as his fingers run through our combined wetness.

“Almost there,” he whispers.

I’m unsure if he’s asking me or telling me, but I don’t care because all thoughts fly free out of my brain as his slippery fingers form a “V” either side of my nub, and then gently squeeze. My orgasm slams into me out of nowhere. Or everywhere. It's hard to tell because I’m surrounded by Gabe.

“Fuck, shit, Bren!” Gabe roars into the dimming light, his groans as he releases into me mingling with a slow, sensual saxophone playing somewhere close by.

We stand on wobbly legs, me leaning against Gabe, both his arms wrapped around me, holding me to him.

“I know this isn’t an ideal place, naked from the waist down in an industrial area,” I start, still slightly breathless, “but, I love you, Gabe.”

“Bren? I can’t think of any place more ‘us’ than right here. Pantsless in a shitty area after a meeting with the Godmother to ask for her help in murdering a man.”

“It does seem very on brand for us,” I agree.

“Bren?”

“Yeah?”