Chapter 46 Chapter Forty-Six - Gabriella
“Looking for me?” his gruff voice whispers seductively in my ear.
“JARTRE!” I scream, my face splitting into a Cheshire cat grin as I abandon my drink on the table and turn to see the face of the man I’ve missed to an unhealthy degree for days.
He smiles down at me, his silver eyes twinkling, and in a second I’m up on my feet, climbing onto the booth and launching myself at him. He catches me with ease as I wrap my arms and legs around him, clinging to him like a monkey in a tree. My lips find his, kissing him with a need and urgency that is overriding my entire system. My lips burn comfortingly against his as I feel him hold me up by my ass while his other hand glides into my hair, holding me in place as he nibbles on my lips and soothes the nibbles with his tongue.
We’re all lips and tongues, catching up for lost time as I fist his silky hair in my hands. I’m probably going to get pash rash thanks to his beard, but I don’t give a fuck. I’d let his beard give my entire body rug burn if it meant being this close to him. I feel like my nervous system has been hanging by a thread for days, and now it’s finally at ease. I feel safe, calm, and whole again wrapped in each other, his breath filling my lungs as if to rejuvenate me.
Our kiss begins to slow down to gentle pecks, his pecks moving to my nose, my eyelids and my forehead as a gravelly hum reverberates in his chest and vibrates against my forehead.
“I’ve missed you too,” he murmurs against my forehead.
I wrap my arms tight around his neck, burying my face in his hair, “I haven’t missed you at all.”
He chuckles, wrapping his arms tight around me, “You’re a terrible liar.”
“What are you doing here?” I ask, reluctantly pulling back to look at him, carefully scanning his face. I’m unsure what I’m looking for. Proof he’s here? Proof he’s alright? Or maybe I just miss looking at him.
“I could sense your sadness. I couldn’t take it anymore, so I came.”
I tenderly caress his cheek with my thumb, “I’m sorry I pulled you away from what you were doing.”
“You didn’t pull me away from anything. Ayawamat and Orenda will be fine, and they’ll contact me if they need me, but I need to be with you. I was going insane without you,” he confesses, laying his forehead against mine.
“I know how you feel,” I admit, cupping his face as I kiss him slow and tenderly, letting the eagerness drop away. His lips are gentle and soft against mine, our urgency gone allowing us just a moment to cherish each other. I’m pulled from the dreamy moment when I hear two throats being cleared. I slowly withdraw my lips from Jartre and look back at Derrick and Wyatt who are staring at us wide-eyed.
“If you two are done with the Cirque Du Soleil performance, maybe you can do some proper introductions,” Derrick teases, making Wyatt snigger.
To my dismay, Jartre sets me back on my feet, but on the bright side, I can now take in his full appearance. I blink in surprise when I realise he’s come dressed in the club’s theme. And oh mamma does he look fine. He’s wearing a low-cut, white satin shirt with open cuffs, and black crocodile-skin pants with matching boots. He’s like a sexy high-fashion pirate, and I’d walk his plank any day. I lick my lips and shake my head straight, quickly taking his hand in mine and guiding him around to the other side of the booth.
“Jartre, you remember my best friend Derrick, and this is his boyfriend, Wyatt, who you haven’t formally met yet. Guys, this is my boyfriend Jartre,” I say brightly, trying not to cringe at the word ‘boyfriend’.
Jartre extends his hand to Derrick, “It’s very nice to meet you again.”
“Likewise,” Derrick says sincerely, shaking his hand.
Jartre then extends his hand to Wyatt, “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, officially. I’m sorry our first introduction was less than polite on my part,” he says apologetically.
Wyatt blinks in surprise and shakes his hand, “Don’t sweat it. If I saw someone with their arms around my man I’d probably act the same.”
Oh, how quickly he changes his tune. Maybe because now he sees what a behemoth of a man Jartre is, and that he wouldn’t last a second in a fight against him.
“Your understanding is appreciated.”
“You’ve even come dressed in theme,” Derrick notes.
“Gabriella told me where she’d be tonight and what was happening, so I decided to surprise her, and I’d hate to disrespect the dress code.” Jartre sits down in the booth and pulls me into his lap. I immediately relax against my talented liar, not sparing a second thought for his tall tale. I don’t care how he knew about the dress code, I just care that he’s here and he went to the effort, the rest is just unnecessary detail in my mind.
“You guys met at the last themed night, didn’t you?” Wyatt asks.
“How could I forget?” says Jartre, smirking at me.
My insides clench as I remember our first meeting vividly. As I get swept away in the memory, Derrick and Wyatt excuse themselves and make their way onto the dancefloor. I pick up my drink and take a long sip, then offer a sip to Jartre.
He shakes his head and pulls a flask out of thin air, “No, thank you, love. I come with my own.” He unscrews the top and takes a swig.
“You know that’s against health and safety regulations,” I admonish him.
“You going to report me?”
I snort, “Everyone would just forget about it a minute later.”
“You know me well,” he smirks, taking another sip.
“What is that?”
“It’s called Tezus. Most supernaturals have much faster metabolisms than humans, so human alcohol doesn’t have much of an effect. Years back, some makkares came up with a magically enhanced brew that helps get the job done. Still not enough to get a God hammered, but at least we can feel a light buzz from it.”
I look at him in amazement. Witches brewing booze? They must be raking in the dough.
“Can I try some?”
He looks at me hesitantly, “I think it’s a bit too strong for you.”
I roll my eyes, “Not all humans are lightweights.”
He shrugs in surrender, “If you say so.”
He hands me the flask and I take a small whiff and try not to recoil at the smell. There are some appealing notes there, but it’s hard to focus on them when my nostril hairs are being burned off from the fumes alone. Jartre is smugly watching, and I realise my constant need to prove humans aren’t as weak as he thinks has just bitten me in the ass, but I’m stubborn, so I have to commit. I place my drink down and take a swig from his flask.
I cough and splutter as my face contorts into something monstrous, my tongue hanging from my mouth, desperate to detach itself so it can crawl away and die. Strangled sounds escape me as I move around, trying to get away from the burning in my throat.
“Fucking hell it’s worse than paint thinner. Oh, fuck it’s worse than moonshine,” I say, handing him his flask as I grab my drink and down it in one gulp, but it doesn’t make it any better. Jartre takes his flask back as he roars with laughter.
“Too strong?” he teases, taking another swig before putting his flask away.
“I think it’s burning a hole in my oesophagus,” I choke. He soothingly rubs my back, when suddenly his eyes zero in on my chest and narrow. “What?” I ask in a raspy voice.
“Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?” he says with displeasure.
“Because it would defeat the purpose of the body jewellery,” I say in a duh tone.
“I don’t like you looking so exposed where anyone can look at you,” he all but growls.
I chuckle sardonically, “This coming from the man who fingered me for a whole club to see.”
He sits back, looking annoyed, “That’s not the same thing.”
“You’re right, I was much more exposed than I am now.”
He reaches up turning my face to look at him, “That night I made it clear that only I can touch you like that. I don’t want men or women looking at what is mine.”
I take in a deep breath, placing my glass down, trying not to get aggravated. I get up and grab his hand. Jartre gets up and follows me as I lead him into the back office and lock the door behind us, the pounding music of the club now dulled down to a dull throb.
“Do you hear how controlling you sound?”
“I never said you were my property, but you are mine. Our souls are bound, Gabriella. You are as much mine as I am yours,” he says, stalking towards me until I’m pressed against the desk.
I gulp and look up at him, “That doesn’t mean you get to dictate what I wear.”
He quirks his eyebrow, “Then how about I remove my shirt and spend the entire evening out there shirtless?” he says, leaning forward and placing his hands on the desk, caging me between his arms.
An image of drunk, horny patrons ogling him and trying to touch him all night flashes in my mind and makes my stomach churn, ready for that Tezus to do some more damage to my inside. That inexplicable anger returns just like it did that day when Derrick was talking about seeing Jartre’s hard-on. It infuriated me then and it infuriates me now. I don’t want anyone looking at Jartre or touching him, he’s mine, and I’ll break the fingers of anyone who touches him.
“See?” he smirks victoriously, bending down and peppering slow kisses along my jawline, immediately settling the anger burning through my gut, “The thought enrages you. You’re a kind and gentle soul, but you can’t control that instinct any more than I can.”
I fist his shirt in my hands, taking a breath as his lips skim against my neck as his hands caress my ass, “I…see where you’re coming from, but I still wouldn’t make demands of you and what you wear,” I say, trying to control my breathing, which becomes harder to do when he sucks my earlobe into his mouth.
“Mmm what would you have me do then?” he asks seductively as his tongue traces the shell of my ear.
“T-t-talk to me. Compromise,” I say as my hands slip into the opening of his shirt, caressing his firm pectorals.
“And what would a compromise look like in this situation?” he inquires as his fingers find the zipper in the back of my pants. “Now something like this is just asking for trouble,” he says in warning, his eyes burning into mine as he slowly unzips my pants. His hands glide over my exposed ass cheeks, the fabric of my thong not durable enough to withstand the juices dripping from me as his touch sets my body alight.
“We could…” I gulp and take a breath, “Promise to stay close.”
“Define close,” he prompts, as his hand slides further into my pants, his finger skimming under the fabric of my thong and teasing my wet entrance, eliciting a moan from me as I cling to the fabric of his shirt.
“In arms reach,” I breathe heavily as his finger continues to tease my entrance, my clit swelling and throbbing with anticipation.
“And what if I’m not around? You did come dressed like this, not expecting to see me,” he points out, as his finger, now coated in my juices, begin to tease my ass hole.
My teeth sink into my lip as my insides quiver and my hands begins to roam the planes of his chest, moving under his shirt and clawing at his abdominals.
“Then I can…save the revealing stuff for when you’re around,” I concede.
“Hmm, I rather like that,” he says, sounding pleased as his finger slowly slides inside my ass, releasing a deep, wanton moan from me. “I think you like this,” he murmurs against my ear.
“God, yes,” I moan, my eyes rolling back as his finger slowly moves inside me driving me crazy.
His lips crash down on mine in a bruising, possessive kiss, his tongue invading my mouth, threatening to suck the air out of my lungs. I fist his hair, returning his kiss with lustful passion as I suck on his tongue, claiming it as my own. His finger continues to move inside me as our kiss becomes frenzied. He presses against me so I can feel his rock-hard cock against my stomach, but that’s not where I want to feel it. I want to feel his cock inside me, filling me up.