Page 82 of Fragile

“I have no idea. Let’s hope not. I’m sure you don’t want an audience.” Again, another zip of pleasure hit me. This twisted side to me was a surprise but then I was still so new to sex, how could I have known exactly what I liked? I would certainly embrace whatever Gabriel dished out as I knew he’d never hurt me. He could be an overbearing bastard, but he wasn’t that type of man.

We got into the apartment and Gabriel dropped the car keys on the kitchen counter with a loud chink.

Here we go. He turned on me, all bristling male fury and I had to take a few steps back, suddenly feeling exposed in the sexy lingerie.

His hot eyes roamed over my body, he was so tall, and commanding. I was surprised I didn’t melt into a puddle in front of him.

Stand up to him, that strong confident woman inside of me yelled, attempting to climb from her cage. You let him throw you over his shoulder like a movie from the seventies, that type of behaviour is not acceptable today, she chanted. But did that count when you enjoyed it?

“So?” he questioned, folding his arms. His eyes were hooded.

I cleared my throat and checked out his stance warily. He looked like a tiger before it pounced. Tugging his jacket to cover my body to provide some armour against his piercing gaze, I slowly walked a few steps toward him. Gabriel was leaning back against the kitchen counter. He looked uber fit and my body started to gravitate towards that strength.

I got within touching distance, and he said, “You’re brave.”

My mouth fell open as heat shifted between my thighs. I was immensely attracted to the bossy side of his, I realised I probably always had been.

“I told you that you were done working at the club. So, what the fuck is going on?”

Mirroring his stance, I lifted my chin proudly and folded my arms. “Since when did you think you had any say in my life, Gabriel?”

He bit out a laugh, but it wasn’t one containing any genuine humour. “Since right now. Dancing in your underwear for a bunch of dirty old pricks is not going to do your CV any favours when you're trying to get into the Royal fucking ballet is it?” Gabriel paused to drag in a huge breath and then released it through his nose. Like a dragon breathing fire. “I can’t believe you’d sell yourself out like that. Have you no self-respect?”

“It wasn’t about that. I was doing a favour for a friend.”

“In a strip club?”

“It’s a gentleman’s club,” I reminded him, dropping my arms.

“Same fucking thing, Leonie.” Gabriel dashed a hand of frustration across his face. “Fucking Aquarius.” The gesticulation of his arms echoed how annoyed he was.

I raised mine in frustration.

“You have no right to be Gabriel.” Oh dear, how I wished I could snatch that one back. My words caused him to lower his hands and shove off the counter. He prowled towards me and I used everything inside me not to shy away. As I said Gabriel’s behaviour could be unpredictable.

“No rights? OK then. Fuck it. I’ll be a paying customer. I’ll give you five times what you make in one night. You can dance for me. A private showing,” he sneered, and the enjoyment factor of our quarrel started to drain away.

“What?” I said, shocked but this turn of events.

Gabriel loomed over me, startling me by yanking his jacket down my arms. Once he had the garment free, he threw it onto the sofa, leaving me standing there in the underwear I had danced in.

He took a few steps back to get a better view of my body, his eyes eating me up.“Come on,” he said with a swing of his hand in my direction. “Dance for me, show me the good stuff.” Gabriel dragged his gaze away as he rooted for his wallet. Withdrawing it from his jeans, he pulled out a wad of notes. “Do I tuck your tips into your knickers? Is that the way it’s done?”

And now I felt cheap, which was exactly what he was trying to achieve. “Now you’re just being crass,” I replied, the need to run to my room, powering through me.

“Even better, why don’t you just strip for me? That’s what all the other dirty fuckers in there would have been thinking. How does it feel to know that most of the men in there will be at home now, jerking off whilst thinking about your face.”

“Stop it,” I shouted, my eyes starting to water up with tears. He was making me feel dirty and I wrapped my arms around my waist. How could he have treated me like such a princess one minute and a slut the next? Because you’re standing there in fucking trashy underwear and have just been shaking your arse for a bunch of strange men.

And the penny dropped. He was right. I was a dancer, a ballerina. I should never have been in that club in the first place. There was no excuse, if I had needed money in those early days, I could have asked my foster parents. But I’d been so pathetic and reliant on other people for so long, I had needed to try and make it on my own. And now, my behaviour had pushed Gabriel away. I full-on sobbed.

“I don’t want you near that place anymore. It isn’t you,” he said, his voice having softened. I looked up at him through misty eyes, I was so fucking confused.

“You’re acting like a jealous boyfriend or something,” I blurted, but I knew my resolve would crack with every step he took in my direction.

Gabriel moved closer and ran a hand down my cheek, collecting some of the moisture there. “We live together. I care about what happens to you, kitten.” My spirits lifted a smidge as he used his nickname for me. But I also felt the need to hurt him like he’d hurt me. I would not be the victim here. I felt my body accepting his warmth.

“You have a funny way of showing it,” I pointed out with a sniff, and he smiled.

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