Page 50 of Gabe

I could tell when his patience began to run out. He started to growl low in the back of his throat like he was angry, sending the vibrations right up my aching cock and into my brain. I thrashed my legs, and he gripped my thighs hard enough to leave bruises, the thought of which only ramped up my arousal more.

His movements sped up, pushed me toward my end faster than before. For a moment, I thought he would finally let me finish this time, but I was wrong. Just as the pleasure started to tighten in my stomach and I was literally seconds from orgasm, he stopped again, and then pulled away from me completely.

I let my hands fall away from my mouth. “You fucker,” I gasped, though I didn’t have the energy to speak more than a whisper.

Somewhere in my peripheral vision, I noticed Gabe pulling out a condom, but I didn’t bother paying attention until he was literally spreading my legs and shoving his fingers inside me. It was a quick and rough preparation. We were both too eager to wait much longer.

The moment I was deemed ready for him, he grabbed my legs behind my knees and lined himself up with my hungry hole.

The whole bed shook from the force of his thrust as he sheathed himself inside me, and I quickly covered my mouth again to stifle my moan.

His thrusts came hard and fast, and I trembled as I lay there and took the pounding. I couldn’t even wrap my legs around him since he kept his hands hooked behind my knees.

After being kept on edge for so long, it was no surprise that I came quickly. It was also no surprise that Gabe didn’t even slow down as I shivered and whined through my orgasm, coating my belly in my own hot spend. During these last few weeks together, I’d gotten used to the man’s endless stamina. More than that, actually. I might even say I loved it. There was something erotic about being taken so relentlessly, abandoning all hesitation, that satisfied a deep primal urge.

I really was spoiled for any other man. It was probably too early in our relationship to make such declarations, but I could no longer picture myself with any man other than Gabe. Somehow, in such a short amount of time, I’d become addicted to him.

Just like every other time we’d been together, Gabe took a while to reach the edge of his own pleasure. He was ruthless in his pursuit, claiming me over and over again until he’d completely wrung every drop of pleasure from me. Yet even then he kept going.

Before Gabe, I’d never experienced a dry orgasm before. To be struck with the electric thrill of climax, yet produce nothing to show for it, was an odd sensation the first few times it happened. However, I’d quickly grown used to it. I now even looked forward to it. It was an overwhelming type of pleasure that I only experienced with Gabe, like a signature he left branded on every inch of my skin.

I knew when Gabe was close, because he suddenly started thrusting harder and faster, chasing that edge that was just out of reach. My muscles twitched from over-stimulation, milking him each time he drove deep into me.

Unlike me, he didn’t make a sound, even when he came. His eyes became glassy, and a flicker of several different emotions danced over his face all at once. Even after my own pleasure faded, the urge to moan remained until Gabe finished as well. I didn’t dare release my hands from my mouth until we’d both calmed down.

Gabe separated us carefully and handled the clean up like usual. I’d tried to help before, but he always insisted. He seemed to treat it as a ritual, like he was slowly adjusting himself from the haze of sex back into reality.

I didn’t mind. It meant I got to lounge around and be taken care of. I’d never considered myself a pillow princess before, but Gabe was quickly turning me into one.

We lay together on the bed as the afternoon sun shone through the window. We were still on top of the sheets, but I wasn’t cold as Gabe lay overtop of me. His head was on my stomach, and his arms casually draped around my waist like I was a pillow or a stuffed animal for him to snuggle.

I watched the sunlight dance on the ceiling each time the wind blew through the trees outside, and idly ran my hands through his hair and over his shoulders.

My fingers found the raised edge of the highest scar on his left arm, and I was reminded of my question from earlier. Tracing the scars one by one, I debated if I should ask or not.

Was it the right time?

Would it ruin the mood?

In the end, I decided to ask. If we had reached the point where I couldn’t imagine myself with any other man, then we needed to keep an open line of communication between us and not shy away from difficult questions.

“How did you get these scars?”

I waited for his reaction. To my relief, he looked up at me with mischief in his iron gray eyes.

“You’re a physical therapist. How do you think I got them?”

I studied the scars more closely, although I didn’t actually need to. I knew exactly what they looked like and had already run through the many options in my head.

“At first, I thought they were knife wounds, based on their long slashing shapes, but they aren’t quite smooth enough. Some of them have ragged edges, and don’t follow the line that a knife would. Plus, they all seem to be the same age, so unless you were attacked by Edward Scissorhands, getting that many knife wounds in one place at the same time seems unlikely.”

I couldn’t reach all of the scars on his left arm from where I was laying, and I didn’t want to get up, so I started back at the top, near his shoulder, and started tracing them again.

The glimmer left Gabe’s eyes as he listened to my deduction process, but his expression was still warm.

“Whenever people ask, I tell them I was attacked by a lion.”

“And they believe you?”

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