Six

six

LORI

For the umpteenth time, my eyes move toward the entrance as I take another sip of wine. The possibility of being dosed again, and at a charity ball, is none, so I'm enjoying the fermented grape juice thoroughly. Still, I cannot stop my mind from reliving, for a moment, that night.

"You're the worst plus-one I've ever brought with me," Uri breaths out. "Having one of your tantrums?"

I sniff, sending a glare his way. "I'm not throwing a wobbly. I'm not a child!"

"No, more like a murderous gremlin."

This is penance.

"Are you planning my demise?" Doesn't sound like he's joking. I turn a sardonic gaze his way. He looks good in a slick black suit and black shirt. His dreads are styled in a half ponytail, and he swapped his ear and eyebrow studs with diamond ones; around his lower lip, he left its usual black hoop, emphasizing the natural peachiness of his mouth.

"I'm off work, so I can't invest in anybody's horrific assassination, Supermodel. But being mowed down in a hail of machine gun bullets would fit you." Since he loves guns.

He nods in agreement while studying the high-society people milling about in the large ballroom in one of the most luxurious hotels in Chicago.

These Kravinsky people know how to organize a charity dinner.

Uri is an event slut. He loves to be the center of attention while at the same time browsing for a donor—his words. I have to say it is kind of fun to study ritzy people. The level of pretense is incredible. I've never heard so many fake laughs or seen this degree of lavishness.

The elaborate chandeliers illuminate the shiny silverware and expensive china on the round tables, but the elegant, fancy decorations don't take anything away from the ladies strutting around like ostriches in priceless gowns.

I look down at my classic black dress with satisfaction. It has a hollowed-out back and reaches my thighs, showing my spectacular legs while wrapping my butt just right. The sexy, wine glass heels on my feet give me an extra inch—more or less—my curls are pulled back and tied in a bun, and the black eyeliner and purple eyeshadow are the final perfect touches.

"What time is it?" I ask Uri, glancing at the entrance doors one more time.

"Nine forty-five."

A waitress in a white suit and cute bow tie stops in front of us with a tray filled with wine and whiskey glasses. I down the rest of mine and take a new one, thanking her. I need to get my hands on some of those hors d'oeuvres other waiters are offering around if I don't want to end up rat-arsed.

The alcohol is already working on my mind, letting it loosely think about a certain boss who hasn't arrived to the party yet. Gabriel Reed is never late…unless Medusa offered him a pleasurable alternative.

My black nails attempt to claw the glass I'm holding, and I see red clouding the edge of my vision. Ahhhhh! No! Who cares. I loathe him, right? And yet, it aches when I don't see him.

"Fuck. Me." The curse leaves my lips as I finally spot the man who has become the main character of my thoughts enter with Medusa wearing a slutty silver dress. They are talking cozily about something I'm too far to be able to hear, and I mentally will their conversation to end. But my mental power fails grandiosely.

"Not a chance," Uri tells me in an indifferent tone. His hazel eyes are scanning an old man with a woman half his age draped over his arm.

"No, you prick! Your brother is here," I let him know. I don't look away, I can't, until I'm in danger of being caught, then I give the perfect, swanky couple my back and finish my glass. A waiter passes by with what he calls caviar croutons, and I gulp three of them down, thinking about the Cup Noodles and Cheetos waiting for me inside my soon-to-be former kitchen cupboard.

Fish eggs are not too shabby.

Uri glances at me with a slightly puzzled look but hands me another glass. Thank his careless sociopathic attitude.

"So, what's up with you and Sari?" I ask him, attempting like hell to forget about my irritation and my twitching cock.

"Nothing," he replies with a flat tone.

"So, him not coming with you tonight and going on a date with that professor again is nothing?"

If the small orchestra on the stage and the chattering around us turned mute, I'd hear Uri's teeth crack.

"He didn't go out on a date, just had a coffee with a colleague." His gaze is not lazily perusing anymore, but filled with homicidal intent. It's like I called "come out come out, sociopathic killer, wherever you are" when I mentioned Sari with another bloke.

Unaffected by his glare, I grab the lapel of his jacket and go on my tiptoes to ask him in a low voice, "He was never your brother, was he?"

His body turns into steel, his eyes flicker between mine while his arm wraps around my waist to keep me steady in this precarious position. His silence is a confirmation of what I already suspected. And it's all I need to know…for now. I smooth his jacket front down and smile up at him. "I see."

"What's going on?" Gabe's voice infiltrates between us and I turn my head to look at him. His smoky eyes meet mine, and for a moment, I get lost in them.

"What does it look like? You interrupted us from sucking face," Uri clips. His voice cuts the silence and then disappears in the surrounding chatter as if he'd never spoken.

Bloody hell!

Medusa's pink nails are around Gabe's arm, her thumb caressing the black sleeve. She gives me a quick once-over and then completely dismisses me to smile at Uri with her perfectly straight teeth—which I'd like to knock out.

"Lori," Gabe rumbles. The dark velvety sound of his voice slithers so-so-slowly down my body.

"He decided to move on to the best brother, obviously," Uri keeps going. He tightens his arm around me, and I feel that usual urge to push the unwanted touch away.

"You mean Sari?" I taunt him back. "Yeah, I could definitely see that happening?—"

"Ehm, I'm sorry to interrupt. I'm Lilian." Medusa outstretches her hand toward Uri.

"My temp PA," Gabe clarifies, and I have to suck my lips into my mouth to stop the chuckle as I see her smile falter for a second. His eyes are intent on my hands, still pressed to Uri's chest. I feel the sudden urge to pull back, and he lets me go to shake Medusa's hand.

"A pleasure," she utters in a suck-up voice.

"I know." I can't stifle my snort at Uri's reply. After a quick glance at her face, he moves his gaze to Gabe and leaves it there as he addresses me, "Gremlin, I was invited to a dinner at the Von Klare's?—"

"Gretchen Von Klare's?" Medusa cuts him off, her voice is full of eagerness. She's even leaning slightly toward us.

"Who?" I ask, turning my attention to Uri again.

"Some upscale family, Mayflower pilgrims, old money," he utters in a bored tone. "Anyway, do you want to come?" Uri owns a multitude of restaurants all over Illinois. He built his empire from scratch and doesn't have much respect for or interest in rich heirs.

I raise a questioning brow at him. A few minutes ago, he told me he regretted bringing me here, and now he wants a repeat? These foster brothers really like their mind games.

"Sure," I answer, because I can't turn down the opportunity to wear one of my party dresses.

A low, angry growl rises in the air, making my toes curl inside my shoes because I remember that sound. I keep hearing it in my hot dreams. I meet Gabe's searing gaze as my brows reach my hairline in astonishment.

"Mr. Reed, Judge Dermot is waving at you," Medusa says, pushing her neck-high breasts against Gabe's arm. He looks down at her, specifically her gazongas, and nods.

"Let's dance," Uri suddenly announces. He grabs my hand without giving me any choice and drags me toward the few people slowly swaying in front of the small orchestra.

His hands fall on my waist as he pulls me against him, and my arms wrap loosely around his neck. That feeling of wanting to wiggle away is there but I force myself to ignore it.

"Didn't take you for the dancing type," I tell him with a sniff.

"I'm more of the enjoy-screwing-with-my-otherwise-robotic-brother type."

"By dancing with me?" I ask with skepticism.

"Exactly."

My eyes search for Gabe, who's not looking at us at all. He's instead talking to some rich-looking people with Medusa still clinging to him. She passes him an hors d'oeuvre, and he pops it into his mouth absently.

"Ugh. The only thing that would screw with Gabe is if he choked on one of those delicious croutons." That's a nice image. I'm sure Medusa is an expert in giving mouth-to-mouth resuscitation with all the arse kissing she executes daily.

Maybe I should just let another guy fuck me and get this over with. Unfortunately, the way Uri is batting his eyelashes, smiling sultrily, and leaning close is doing fuck all for me.

"Why doesn't he have a stupid nickname?"

"Eh?" I focus on Uri's hazel eyes again.

"Rague is KKJ, Michael is Bones, Sari is Angel, Bully Boy is for Raph, Reacher for Rami, and I'm Supermodel." He gives me a knowing look, the wanker. "Why doesn't Gabe have another name?"

Bugger. "He doesn't deserve one?" It's more a question than a statement because the truth is that he's always been Gabe to me. Controlled, haughty, amazingly skilled in the sack Gabe.

"I see," he repeats the words I told him a few minutes ago, plastering a knowing smug smile on his face. "Let's speed things up a bit, shall we?"

"Wha—?" Then his lips are on mine. Well, not completely on mine, more on the corner of my mouth. The people surrounding us, though, must think he's laying one on me—a long one.

A crushing sound followed by a scream spears the air, breaking Uri's silly act and making me look to my right. My gaze falls halfway across the room on Gabe. His eyes, laser-focused on me, feel like a physical touch.

A rough, bruising touch.

My heart pounds like rain on the ground, and I stop for a moment, frozen. My mouth opens as I notice his bleeding hand and the broken glass at his feet. Did he crush the glass he was holding with his fingers?

I move without thinking, crossing the room until I'm almost in front of him. But his firm "No" halts my steps. He swiftly curls his arm around my torso and lifts me in the air, spinning me around and slowly placing my feet back on the ground.

I'm still feeling the echo of his warm and hard chest against mine when he hisses on my lips, "Careful." He brings my attention to the broken glass on the floor.

His attentiveness shocks me once again. I let go of his shoulders to grab his bleeding hand between mine and inspect the damage meticulously. The cuts are shallow, but there're tiny, sharp pieces embedded in the skin.

I turn to a waitress. "Do you have a first aid kit? I also need a bowl of water, a pair of tweezers and a clean towel."

She nods and jogs away, hopefully to get them.

Then I let go. "What the bloody fuck happened?" I barely contain my irritation.

"It's nothing." He tries to pull the hand away, vexing me even more, and I automatically tighten my grip on his wrist.

"Are you a doctor? No!" Worry and annoyance roll off me in waves. "I need to pull the glass out, or you'll risk an infection."

Gabe lifts his questioning brow at me while giving me a stern stare. Why the fuck is he cross with me? He's the one bleeding all over the shiny marble floors. Hence my irritation toward him.

I yank him around the room until I force him to sit down at one of the round tables. The waitress comes back with an aid box and the rest of the things I asked for, followed by the hotel manager. He apologizes profusely about the faulty glass—what the actual fuck?—and talks about calling an ambulance…the drama queen. I assure him I can take care of the accident since I've patched up Ollie and Sully on more occasions than I remember and stare down challengingly at Gabe, waiting for him to agree. He gives the sweaty manager a short nod and holds out his hand.

That's more like it.

Where the hell is Medusa?

I sit on the chair near him as the curious people gathered around us start to lose interest and move away. I clean the blood from his hand with water from the bowl, using the towel to dry it gently. Then after checking it over again, I start picking out the small shards from his palm. I halt and stare up at him with every piece I pull out, trying to discern if he's feeling pain. I don't see any change in his eyes, so I keep going until I take all of them out, but something feels strange. And it only intensifies the more I take care of him.

"Does it hurt?" I ask him, scanning his face.

He shakes his head slowly, those piercing, smoky eyes steady on my face. My dick certainly likes the attention, while I feel like my mouth is too dry to speak. I silently clean his wound once again and bandage it. Clearing my throat, I'm able to whisper, "Done." The moment I drop his hand, he grabs my wrist and pulls me toward him.

"Why?" he asks, his darkened eyes darting between mine.

Why did I help him? Why am I suddenly drawn to him? Why can't I stop thinking about his dick? About him?

"No ‘thank you'?" My words make his grip tighten around my wrist. "I'm just trying to pay you back for what you've done for me." Which is not a lie, but not the entire truth either. Because when I saw him bleeding, I just followed an inexplicable need to be sure he was alright.

"That's not—" Gabe is interrupted by a fretting Medusa.

"What happened?" She turns accusingly to me. "What did you do?"

I close my eyes and mentally enumerate the names of the Seven Dwarves, or try to, I always forget one. It's a little trick that distracts me enough to calm me down. Barely works this time. Then I stand up, more than ready to go unless these floors want to be covered in more blood—Medusa's blood—but Gabe's firm grasp on my wrist keeps me there.

"Don't do that again," he rumbles deeply. Don't help him? Why? "Unless it's with me, Little Wasp."

His eyes fall on my lips. Is he talking about Uri's kiss? He lets my hand go. I'm confused and horny at hearing that damn nickname coming out of his mouth. His touch lingers like a brand as the organizer of the event reaches us and asks Gabe about the accident.

Feeling like I need a time-out from everything, I leave them talking and go toward the bathrooms.

I push the first door open. The room is wide, spotless with one big stall and many kinds of amenities covering the long black counter near the sinks.

I've just the time to place my cute, rented Vuitton on the counter when I hear the door open—which I forgot to lock—and a very annoying voice reaches me from behind.

"You're pathetic." Medusa's reflection appears in the mirror.

Fuck me sideways, I urgently need to sit down with Lady Karma for a nice cuppa and ask her what the bloody sodding fuck I've done to deserve this.

"Leave," I breath out, grabbing my bag once again to look for my eyeliner. Need to keep my idle hands from strangling the trollop.

She moves to the mirror, and while slowly checking her makeup and pushing her hair back, she lets out a short, movie-villain laugh. "Can't you see? Your place is not here; it's with people of your own—" she pauses for malefic effect, "status."

What is this, an episode of Downton Abbey? I was wrong, this is penance. I spin and forcefully lean my hip against the sink, clicking my pumps on the shiny floor. She's taller than me, but I still give her my fiercest look.

"I said LEAVE before I change my mind and beat last year's lipstick color from your mouth in a bitch slap fight which you won't win, because I'm the queen of bitches, slag."

Her face turns into a twisted, angry mask. "All the high-class people here know very well what you are. They can hear you talking. Why do you think they are staring at you and whispering? You are scum."

Her odious words don't work on me. Jealous bitches be crazy. I'm fabulous, that's the only reason people look at me. Using those British words and sayings keep the memory of my gran alive with me. They're part of who I am.

Nevertheless, Medusa needs to be imparted some Lori-wisdom anyway, because nobody talks me down and leaves unpunished.

I snort derisively, getting ready to pounce on the bitch, but Gabe's voice suddenly booms inside the bathroom, putting a stop to my lesson before it even happened. "You…out!"

His icy tone makes my balls want to take cover inside my body while my ass clenches, eager to be filled.

Medusa and I turn toward the door, both of us keeping our positions. Gabe is staring at me with such a potent gaze I couldn't move even if I tried.

"Your boss said to remove your bony ass out of here. Do it already!" Uri appears behind Gabe, and I know he's talking to her since my butt is far from skinny. Plus, if he ever spoke to me like that, it would mean war. "Before Gremlin rearranges your face."

I reply to his smirk with a smile. That was surely a compliment by Uri's standards, he's the torturer among the brothers after all.

Medusa sputters a few incomprehensible words, to which Gabe replies with a growly, "Out! You too, Uri."

"Like I want to see a robot and a gremlin banging," he grumbles, and makes an impatient let's-go arm gesture Medusa's way. She sends a puppy look at Gabe, but he doesn't take his probing eyes off me. The door closes behind them, and I hear the click of the lock as Gabe turns the bolt.

Banging ? That's absolutely the last thing on Gabe's mind, isn't it?

"Has she given you problems before?" he asks, stalking my way. Every step he takes exudes command and resolution.

"She's been rude. Don't know what her problem is." I huff, crossing my arms.

"How many times has she treated you like that?"

"This level of nasty is new," is all I give him. I can surely take care of myself.

"Does anyone else treat you like that at the firm?"

Why all these questions? "Not to that extent." I smooth my dress, and his eyes drop down for a second.

"If it happens again with someone else, you need to report it," he insists.

"To HR, I know." But I'll never do that. Doesn't he know by now that I like to add my personal touch to my tit-for-tat?

"No, to me." He stops in front of me. His jaw is ticking, showing his annoyance.

"Yeah, but the right channel is?—"

"Me." Gabe's voice has turned deep, that low register that sends delicious sparks down my spine. He didn't raise his voice, but his deadly serious tone cut through me like an arrow through water.

Instead of giving him one of my sharp retorts, I sigh and edge closer, tilting my head even further back while pinning him with my gaze. Need suddenly slams into me, and I feel slightly lightheaded.

"Why are you here?" he asks as his eyes move to my curls, studying my high bun. His words don't compute at first, my brain is out of oxygen. But my dick is the organ in need of CPR.

I ignore his question. "How's your hand? Did she fawn over you and kiss it better?" I scoff. The thought of sharing Gabe makes me rather sick to my stomach, a reaction I certainly don't care to examine at the moment. Or never. I refuse to let my dumbass thoughts have the better of me. I mean, sharing? We had sex one night…multiple times.

Has he leaned closer? Or has my depth perception gone bonkers?

"It's quite a leap from your usual drink spitting to breaking the glass," I taunt him, trying to lighten my previous words. In the past, he's sprayed Rami a couple of times with whatever he was drinking.

"Lori." My name in that gravelly voice makes heat pool in my belly, and a flash of him using that same tone while coming deep inside me pushes some pre-cum right out of my slit.

I can't help the lick of arousal that spreads through me. Swallowing, I try hard to contain it. I fail and straighten up instead, hoping the too-perceptive lawyer doesn't take one look at me and know exactly where my brain has gone. This is Gabe, for fuck's sake! Nothing will ever happen—again.

I frown at him and turn toward the sink, splashing water on my wrists, hoping it will stop my furious pulse.

"Answer me." The demand in his voice is hot and vexing at the same time.

"Doing a favor for Sari," I reply, still keeping my back to him as I dry my hands.

"Is that all?" Does he sound different? There's something in his husky voice—I remember it from my dreams—I can't quite put my finger on it. Is it his horny voice perhaps? Doesn't matter.

I'm able to put a smirk on my face and turn around. "No. The expensive food, and the chance to wear this dress were a great incentive."

His eyes like licks of a flame slide down my body, taking me in with no rush.

"Don't worry, you can keep ignoring me and internally judging me just as you always do. I'm not going to force my presence on you, like you were forced when I was drugged," I tell him, gritting my teeth.

He closes the last inches between our bodies, coercing me to push my tushy against the sink.

"I don't judge you, Little Wasp." Again, that damn nickname. And his voice is definitely dissimilar to his usual monotone one. Also his eyes, they have turned into dark pools.

He remains still, but it's like I'm engulfed by a fucking blaze while my tongue is twisted inside my mouth. He's invading my space, his face a breath from mine. The bloke doesn't know how to give an inch.

Why don't I feel the urge to push him away?

My shoes are filled with concrete. Every part of my body is tensed to the maximum. Waiting.

"My drink was spiked as well. Most drugs don't have any effect on me, though. Nobody forced me to do anything," he confesses.

Does he mean that he enjoyed helping me?

I swallow hard. Or does it mean that I'm so blinded by good dick that I don't know my fucking mind? Because I want to be fucked by Gabriel Reed…again. "No effect?"

He leans closer—if that's even possible—and his hands fall on the counter behind me. He stops less than an inch from my lips. Lingering there like in the recurring sex dream I've been having at night. His breath feels hot on my skin as he lets out a long puff of air. I can't stop the shiver running down my body.

Granted, he's taller and stronger than me. He has more than a couple of inches and a good thirty pounds on me, all lean muscle. At any point during his advance, though, I still could have tried to stop him and push him away. But I didn't. I'm not. Because I want this nearness. I hope for more of it. My body is coming alive like Frankenstein's monster.

"No," he growls. His hot mouth suddenly catches my lower lip between his teeth. The shock of it runs all the way up to my brows.

"Mm." The moan leaves my lips when he bites down, making me gasp. My hands tighten around the edge of the sink behind me. He sucks hard and then lets go with a pop, leaving my lower lip throbbing.

I don't even know how my frozen brain is creating words anymore. I get even more distracted when his tongue comes out to slick his lower lip. I mirror him, tasting his bitterness and sweetness for the first time.

He turns the intensity up in his hypnotic, bottomless eyes as he stares at my tongue. Then a soft groan comes out of him, and I feel the vibration against my chest and down into my balls.

His breath brushes over my lips again, and I try to suck some of it in. This close, I can count every strand of wheat blond hair and discover each little freckle on his face. His tongue peeks out to lick the corner of my mouth where my beauty mole is. My tense muscles turn to jelly while my breaths are too fast to actually get any oxygen inside my lungs.

The air between us thickens. The world surrounding us has disappeared. My head swims, all of my wits forever gone, lost. I reach up and try to grip his arm, to take some control back. But he shakes his head.

"Take my cock out, Little Wasp," he commands. His gaze darkens as that sentence leaves his lips. The heat pooling in my abdomen is at risk of turning me into a melting mess.

Still, I don't respond well to orders. "You have fingers, don't you?" Lame, but again, frozen brain, melting body…can't get much out of them.

His long-fingered, muscular hand—which is my kryptonite since I have a thing for strong, well-shaped hands—shoots up, closing around my neck. His broad palm and masculine digits wrap all the way from side to side. My fingers instinctually grasp his wrist, even though his grip is not tight. Not loose either. It's fucking perfection. The clench of arousal hits me like a blow.

His other hand reaches my hair, and with one pull to the tie, my curly locks descend around my face like a waterfall. His fingers lace among the strands, and he grabs a handful, letting out a pucker-contracting growl.

"I fucking dig how feisty you are. It turns me the fuck on," he snarls, as he nuzzles the side of my face with his nose, pulling on my hair to tilt my head to the side.

Christ, did I die and end up in all-my-book-boyfriends-come-true heaven?

"But I've been waiting enough already. Take. My. Cock. Out." With every word, he tightens his grip around my hair, sending a feeling of pleasure-pain down my body.

But I have no idea what he's talking about. Waiting? I'm too shocked by this side of him. I recall him being this direct when we were inside Crimson, but not while he was fucking me. He barely spoke.

The ensuing silence feels like a two-ton weight on me, it's filled with a consuming desire I can't contain.

As if it has a will of its own, my hand leaves the counter and moves to Gabe's pants, deftly unzipping them and pushing down the black boxer briefs.

My memories weren't lying. His cock is long and bloody glorious. I can do nothing but stare for a long moment. I wish I could do it forever, in fact, I'd even pay for the privilege.

His dick twitches under my observation, and a drop of pre-cum forms on the tip, making me bite my already swollen lip with the urge to kneel down and suck it off.

"Spit." He lets go of my hair and moves his hand near my mouth, his fingers tightening slightly around my throat. He expects me to defy him. Not a fucking chance. But I can still choose the how.

Holding his gaze with challenge in my eyes, I open my mouth and let saliva drip down, directly on his cockhead, covering it beautifully. He groans, and lowering his fingers, he wraps them around his shaft, giving it a slow top-to-base pump.

"More."

I oblige him.

He clenches his teeth and flattens his mouth. His lower lip is larger than the upper, and the urge to lick it is wild.

I can see his muscular arm flexing in the suit jacket as he slowly beats himself off. Slurps fill the room, long and loud. I wish they were coming from my mouth on his cock, but the thought of my saliva engulfing it has to be enough.

People would pay top dollar to watch him working himself like this, even more if he kneeled on the floor, muscular legs spread open to give him more room to work. This is live porn paradise.

His thumb rubs my skin, reaching my chin to tilt my head up. His pupils are so large that the slate-gray has almost vanished. They're locked on me as if I am something to be devoured. My mouth turns slack, and I let out a low, incoherent sound. I've never been this horny before—without the help of a drug.

His cock twitches, spilling more delicious pre-cum, while his heavy balls continue bouncing with every jerk of his hand.

"Tell me what you dreamed about." His low grunt snaps my eyes back to his face. "Is it my cock inside you?"

A searing fire shoots down my spine and lodges in my balls.

Memories of him fucking me, his cock pounding me into jelly, his heavy body pinning me down, forcing me to take more, showing me how in charge he was.

A shuddering moan rises up in my throat, and I'm unable to choke it back.

"Tell me." His hand stops, and I whimper in protest.

I buck, trying to rub my aching cock on him, but his hand around my neck and his shoulders like unmovable rocks keep me still. My lower abdomen feels heavy and tight, and a swirling sensation is burning me from the inside.

I stare up at him when his grip on my throat tightens considerably. His expression has me pressing back against the sink. Those metallic eyes fixed on me like a hawk looks at prey.

A pathetic little whine comes out from my dry throat, but it doesn't move him. He curls his lips and growls, "You don't want to cross me."

"Oh, but I do," I breath out. Then a whiff of his smell enters my nose, so uniquely Gabe, so irritating, comforting, and arousing. I don't want this to stop. All I can do is answer him.

My voice sounds soft even to my ears. What is he doing to me? "In my dreams I don't care about anything but my empty hole. And everything comes to a halt when your thick and hot and smooth cockhead presses between the cheeks of my arse. You grasp them—your hands fitting perfectly over each—and pry them apart. Your thumbs stretch my wet entrance open as you thrust forward, sliding inside me all at once. So long, and deeper than anybody has ever been. I feel the perfect shape of you. The large tip and your long shaft."

He snarls again, beating himself off with frantic pumps. "Fuuuuuck. More!" The command makes every cell in my body tremble with lust. My dick hurts with the need to release.

"You grunt deeply as you stiffen even more and start to come in me. A warm, hot fluid filling me for the first time."

"Fuck yeah, only me," he hisses possessively.

"Each one of your words hits me harder than the last. My cock turns stiff again so quickly, pulling all the blood away from my brain." I whimper, recalling the hard fuck he gave me and the sensation of being stuffed to the brink while he kept fucking me. Because what I've described for him are the memories of us together in Rague's car. "Those filthy words. Did I imagine them?"

"You want filthy?" His voice dips into a rasp. A low noise rumbles in his throat, and the swooping sensation in the pit of my stomach intensifies. "That tight little pucker can milk my dick fucking dry, sucking the cum out of my balls so fast, I see stars. You can fight me all you want, but when I get that hot-as-fuck bod under me as I give your ass the spanking it deserves, you'll beg again to be fucked. Filled. Used and marked. Christ!" He pauses to let out the sexiest grunt I've ever heard as he clamps a firm hand around the base of his angry-looking dick in an effort to calm himself.

My balls hurt with an urge to release the built-up pressure. My arse needs to be stuffed by him. I need him to pump his cum in me. To feel it dripping down my thighs as he keeps growling my name. I let out a wavering cry as, suddenly, ecstasy explodes out of my dick, shooting jizz inside my black jockstrap, making a mess.

Fuck, I'm coming untouched.

Lightheaded and fuzzy, still riding the O-train, I can hear him growl, "Just like that, give it to me, Little Wasp. Now lift your dress. The wait is over."

I've never been one to think very long when instinct leads me to act, even less when I'm buzzing with echoes of pleasure. And I just can't say no to those gray eyes at this moment. So, I do what he says and raise my tight dress up until it reaches my belly. Putting on display the wet spot on the front of my jockstrap.

His wanking turns furious when his eyes laser in on the evidence of my pleasure. Then he forces my head to the side and pain erupts at the base of my neck as he sinks his teeth in me, letting out a low, guttural groan that pushes more cum out of my slit.

I feel the warmth of his jizz hitting my belly and thighs as his body keeps jerking against me. It keeps splashing over my skin, covering me in it. It feels like he's marking my skin once again. The thought starts a cloud of excitement inside me, which rather worries me.

His hand shifts on my neck, the grip loosens a little as his teeth release my aching skin, and he pulls his head back. His lips are a panting breath from mine, eyes the color of blurry rain clouds. And I give in to the screaming voice in the back of my head, grab his nape, and crush our mouths together.

He opens right away, starting a battle for control, each of us trying to make the other submit as we twist our tongues, bite and suck with heated passion. His thumb on my chin forces my face further upward; his fingers feel hot around my neck as his other hand takes a handful of my arse in its palm and squeezes.

The kiss is bloody explosive and so damn unreal. I'm kissing Gabriel Reed, and it's the most exciting snogging I've ever had. His short hair feels so soft under my fingers, I can't stop running them through the locks.

He groans, while my heart races as I fall even deeper into the abyss of my desire for him. I bite his tongue, and he suddenly pulls back, his eyes focused on my mouth.

"You really are a Little Wasp," he whispers. I should hate the stupid nickname, but all I feel is confusion.

"Why wasp?"

"Because you buzz around with such energy and purpose." He touches my hair. "Ready to prick anybody who rubs you the wrong way."

Well, fuck!

His thumb rubs my lips left and right a couple of times, before he takes a step back, and releases me so suddenly that I feel like a ship with no anchor. He tucks himself back in without a word or a glance my way.

I'm caught between indignation, astonishment, confusion, and the lingering remains of pleasure that have my cock still half hard.

The air in the bathroom has turned cold. You would think the reason is because I'm half naked, but no, the icy vibes are coming from Gabe. He moves to the sink to wash his hands and then passes me some paper towels. He's wearing again his usual mask, the one that doesn't reveal anything.

Vexed by his sudden change of mood, I yank the towels unceremoniously from his fingers and start cleaning myself. I feel his eyes on me the entire time, until I pull my dress down. The bruise on my neck stings, but I love the sight of it. And hate that I love it.

When I look at him, his hair is perfectly styled again, and his suit without a wrinkle. Like what we just shared never happened.

The silence draws out as it's my turn to check myself in the mirror.

"What?" I finally snap, not caring about the snark in my voice, because he keeps staring at me without saying anything.

"Don't tie your hair again," he only states in his lawyer-y, haughty voice, the same one I've heard him using at the office. "And forget the dinner at the Von Klare's with Uri."

My incredulous gaze meets his. And just as my thoughts find their way to my brain again, he turns and leaves the bathroom. The saying "I hate to see you go but love to watch you walk away" doesn't apply here—not in the slightest.

His arrogance is staggering! The insufferable dick!

He ordered me around while jerking off and coming all over me before turning into his usual distant, controlled self and walking away like I was a quick shag. It's humiliating. Infuriating. And I've never been this turned on in my life.

What the bloody fuck just happened?

GAbrIEL/BEZALIEL

"Mr. Reed, we don't have a personal assistant available at the moment." Evelyn's voice over the phone sounds apologetic.

"I understand," I say.

No, you fucking don't , Bez huffs.

"I'll try to contact more agencies."

"Please do." I hang up, turning my desk chair around to look outside my office window. The sunset has painted the high buildings with orange and red brushes. The colorful sight is quite stunning even after many years. But I'm not completely engaged in the beauty of it.

Firing another temp PA wasn't a smart move. The last one was passable in the office, but clearly after another position, a more intimate one. Not to mention the way she treated Lori, the bathroom incident at the charity dinner had certainly been an eye opener.

An image of Lori moving around in that tight black dress, which emphasized the generous curve of his round rear, the sharp edges of his narrow hips, and the soft arc of his neck pops in my brain. The feel of his warm body as Bez jerked off against him comes next, along with the sweet way he tasted and the wild desire filling his eyes.

Such pretty eyes , Bez comments. I prefer his fleshy, meaty ass.

I still can't believe I let Bez take over.

You didn't let me do a fucking thing. You wanted it, Gabe. You want Lori. Wake the fuck up, and let's fucking take him already. Bez huffs.

It's not that easy. We can't just take…

I always take , Bez reminds me. And it's true, he does without thinking about the consequences. It's good I'm a lawyer and know how to navigate the law, otherwise we'd be rotting in a cell.

You can't just take this time, I tell him. Because Lori is not like one of his fucks in a bar.

Why do you always have to be so boringly logic? Bez complains.

Logical, I correct him. Knowing too well how much he hates it.

Fuck you.

What happened last night had been surprising. I hadn't expected Lori to enjoy what Bez did.

And that kiss.

Bez had pulled back for a moment when Lori attacked my lips. The moment his tongue speared my mouth, I just lost it. Kissing has always been an act of foreplay I never particularly liked. But with Lori, it turned into a passionate battle for dominance, a duel of tongues.

I'm not sure who won. But I know I'd very much like to make him submit to me. To bite again that sexy dip on his lower lip.

I shake my head in an attempt to dispel those thoughts even though my cock remains half hard while I continue to work.

Sometime later, my phone chimes.

It's the stupid chat Rami created, Bros they are watery and filled with pain. He's not wearing his usual makeup, and his eyelashes appear auburn in color, but also gold and chestnut.

The receptionist returns with an ice pack before running to her desk to answer the ringing phones. I place it gently on the reddened skin. His thighs covered in fishnet stockings under a pair of white shorts are open, letting me step between them.

My sense of relief is overtaken by anger that I'm barely able to control.

"What were you thinking? You're lucky the glass didn't break. You could have hurt yourself badly."

"I had a lot on my mind!" he retorts with a much higher level of irritation.

"What? What's wrong?" I ask.

"Nothing," he stubbornly replies.

"Tell me," I insist.

"Why?"

Why indeed, Bez mockingly says.

"It could interfere with your work."

Nice save, Gabe!

"No, it won't." Lori is frowning again as if something doesn't quite add up.

Smart, Little Wasp.

"I call hitting a door with your face a big red flag," I try to reason with him. I can feel the softness of his curls under my fingers, the smoothness of his skin. He didn't push my hands away, nor tell me to go away.

"A glass door."

"A very visible glass door that you've used numerous times," I counter.

"Stop provoking me." He grabs the ice pack from my hand and yanks it away from his face. "You don't want to see my resentful side."

"I've seen it plenty. You're a walking firecracker with sparks going off under your feet with every step you take." I raise my eyebrow at him, daring him to disagree.

He narrows his brown eyes at me, now full of annoyance. Pushing a finger to my chest, he says, "Let's get something straight here. My ducks are not in a row. They are…chilling near the pond. I suspect one of them is a pigeon in disguise hoping to score with one of them. But, I solve my own problems. Don't need a knight in shining armor to come and bloody rescue me! Unless I'm being dosed it seems. So back off!"

I just keep staring at him, tightening my hand on his face and placing the other on his leg. Bez suddenly pushes me down to come out.

Fuck diplomacy!

"You're keeping something from me. Don't fucking like it, Little Wasp," I unleash my anger.

Instead of fighting back, his eyes flicker acutely over my face. I can see the cogs whirring inside his head.

"It's like you're a completely different person at times," he utters, like he's voicing a thought out loud. Then he seems to shake the idea off. "It's still none of your business. Stop bothering me!"

And here is that bellicose temper I dig so much.

I give him a wicked smirk and shift my hand until I grab a handful of curls. "You're so fucking hot when you stand up to me. Fight me. Even threaten me with that Rudolf nose." He gasps indignantly hearing that. My hand trails upward until I squeeze his thigh. "But you're wrong, everything about you is my business whether you like it or not."

The staring contest continues for a while. Until his eyes fall to my hand on his leg. He grabs it and turns it to look at the cuts on my palm from the broken glass. They're healing easily thanks to his care. Then he sniffs and dropping my hand pushes against my chest. Or tries to.

"People are watching us, Mr. Reed," he says, glancing at the glass walls of the conference room. Despite my I-don't-give-a shit-about-people attitude, this is Gabe's domain. It's the reason why I live a very comfortable life.

It is , Gabe uselessly says.

You're the one that hauled him all the way in here! I remind him.

To have some privacy.

In a room made of glass? He's so fucking blind. How can he not see what is right in front of him? And he's the one with a PhD.

"Hey." I focus on Lori again. He's studying me with a small frown on his face.

I push back and let Gabe take the reins again…for now.

"Keep the ice pack on your nose." I let Lori go and watch as he jumps down from the table and walks away from me. With every step he takes the uneasiness slowly comes back under my skin. It's astonishing.

I grit my teeth and grabbing my phone, I dial Rague's number.

"Gabe," he answers after three rings. He's probably working on the library café he opened with Ollie.

"Need to talk to your husband." They are always together unless Ollie is in class.

"Something wrong?" he asks.

"Yeah."

I'm starting to figure out what Bez has been alluding to.