Page 88 of Wolf.e

He says nothing as he tucks his cock back into his pants and moves toward the bathroom. I wait, the pain in my hands takes over as the adrenaline of what he just did begins to fade.

Gabriel is back in less than a minute with a warm washcloth. He kneels down to my level and without looking, uses one hand to untie my wrists while he washes away my tears, my drool, his cum from my face with the other. I immediately pull my hands to my front when they’re free and sets the cloth down. I watch as he begins massaging them back to life for me.

“You’re the only person on this fucking planet that can make me lose control, Brinley. And me out of control is a dangerous thing to witness.” Gabriel’s eyes meet mine as he continues to rub and the pins and needles feeling in my palms begins to fade.

He sets the cloth down and lifts my plate. I watch as he heads back into the kitchen and puts it in the microwave to warm the rest back up for me. I could get up, but I don’t.

Gabriel returns moments later and sets my plate in front of me. He lifts me up and sits in my chair, pulling me into his lap. His hand comes up to brush my sweaty hair from my forehead. He kisses me there. I could try to run or fight him, but I don’t. I simply open my mouth again for my food.

“You can come to the rally on Saturday, but we’ll have some work to do first.”

He lifts the fork and begins to feed me the rest of my dinner. We sit like this, in silence, as I internally let out a scream of victory.

I hold my aching hands in my lap as Gabriel feeds me bite after bite. I take everything he offers.

To anyone on the outside, it would appear like maybe he serves me… like maybe I own him, not the other way around.

“You want me to what?” Brinley asks as I take my shirt off. Fuck, it’s hot. We just ran the equivalent of three miles and walked one through the trails that surround my acreage. I watch as her throat works to swallow her electrolytes. Fuck she’s incredible.

Her little spandex shorts cling to her in all the right places, the loose t-shirt she wears over one of those little spandex bras is like a teaser and her dark hair is piled high on her head. She’s growing stronger by the day and is being transformed into an unassuming little weapon under my command. She’s still keeping the curviness of her form though, and I can’t get enough of it, that full pert ass and grippable hips are what fucking dreams are made of.

I add a fresh mag to the Glock 43 she’s been training with and hand it over.

“You wanna carry your own gun, you can prove to me that you can handle it. It’s not something you toy with. I need to know you aren’t afraid to shoot and that you can shoot accurately under pressure.” I walk away from Brinley towards a tree thirty feet away. Her accuracy would never need to be more than that in a threatening situation and I’m hoping she’s as precise as she has been over the last week. I take my place, beside a standing target with a fresh sheet on it. Its bullseye is less than a foot from me. I plant myself there and look into her eyes.

“No, uh-uh, you’re absolutely crazy,” she says in horror.

I smirk. “You’re just figuring this out now?”

“Gabriel,” she says in the way that makes my cock twitch every fucking time. “I can’t.”

I swear, I could bury myself inside some part of this woman all hours of the day and never tire of her. Something about her drives me to the absolute brink of insanity and settles me all at once.

“You can. You aren’t the Brinley Rose they made. Be you, be strong. Be my girl,” I tell her firmly.

Her pretty blue eyes narrow at me and she looks down at the gun then back to me.

I watch with fascination as she comes to terms with the idea that she could kill me right now. It’s not the way fear lines her eyes but that spark of electricity when she understands…she holds all the power that drives me.

“You don’t want to put a bulletproof vest on?”

“Not a chance,” I answer. “That’s why the target is on my right.” I grin. “Better chance of survival if you hit this side of my body.”

Brinley doesn’t speak. She just tilts her hips the way I’ve shown her as the late July cicadas fill the air.

Am I scared right now? Not really. The only regret I’d have is not having more time with her. And if I have to go out, going by Brinley’s hand, while staring at her beautiful face, is the way I’d want. She moves her left leg forward and the right leg behind a little, and lifts the gun, holding it with both hands.

“Your shoulder,” I tell her, reminding her to lean it a little forward to help with the recoil.

She nods, determination in her eyes and every single feature.

Ten long seconds of silence fill the air and then Brinley’s eyes meet mine once before she zeros in on her target and fires.

I watch in horror as the bullet hits Gabriel, and he recoils backward a few inches.

“Fuck,” he hisses, and I scream, dropping the gun.

I run toward him.

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