He took my chin in his hand and forced me to look at him. “No meeting the parents for Thanksgiving, but how does Christmas dinner sound?”
It surprised me how he knew what I needed. “C-Christmas dinner sounds better.”
“Okay, but if you change your mind, that’s okay. Come here,” he said and curled his finger. I scooted closer and he kissed me. “Let’s get you upstairs.”
He was out of the car before I could refute. “You don’t have to walk me up.”
“You don’t want me to?”
“I ah… It’s not necessary.”
“Well, I want to.” He took my duffle bag from my hand.
“But…it’s not very nice inside.”
“I don’t care,” he said and started walking to the entrance.
I fumbled for my keys. As I slid them into the lock, I glanced at the Bond car with wide eyes, figuring he’d only be inside for a few minutes. He pushed his way into the foyer and nearly tripped over some trash bags, but he seemed not to care as he held the door open for me. If he noticed the smell of the rotting carpet or the liquor bottles rolling around on the floor, he didn’t make it obvious. I felt so small leading him to my little room of an apartment. His place was so nice, clean with every amenity a person could want.
My hands shook as I worked on getting my door open. He pressed his palm against my back, the heat of his skin soaking through my jacket. I took a deep breath and pushed the door open. He stepped inside and I glanced at Maria’s door. There was no gentle spill of cartoons playing on the television or kids laughing so I assumed they weren’t home. I really needed to talk to her and with my blooming confidence, I was sure I could tell her the truth.
“You didn’t tell me you were an artist.”
Gabriel’s voice pulled me from my thoughts, and I closed the door behind me. He was leaning over my tiny desk, skimming his eyes all over a doodle of himself. I hadn’t seen the need to put them away. I scrambled to hide my work.
“No, I want to see,” he protested. “Please?”
“You really don’t.”
He pouted his bottom lip out, giving me a sad look. I sighed and plopped my butt on my bed. I watched with trepidation as he flipped through my drawings, a little smile pulling at the corner of his lips. I knew he got to the dirty stuff when that little grin turned dark.
“They're not very good.” I insisted.
“You’re being modest. They’re all good.” he held up one of my most recent doodles of him, lying in bed naked. “It looks exactly like me.”
His praise did something to me. “It’s all from memory.”
“You want me to pose for you?” he inquired.
“I ah…”
“You don’t?”
It was pointless trying to fight it. “If you’d like to, yeah.”
He offered me a devilish grin. “I’d like to, yes.”
He abandoned my desk and approached me. I stood up, intending to usher him out the door, but he pulled me in and kissed my neck.
“Stop it,” he admonished. He boxed me in against my dresser and claimed my lips in a slow, languorous kiss. “Stop trying to push me away from certain things in your life. I don’t care if you’re broke. It’s not an issue.”
I wanted to push him away, tell him to leave before someone vandalized his expensive car. Instead, I fisted my hands in his jacket and pulled him closer. He had awakened something within me, and now that it was alive, it had taken over reason. He swiped his thumb across my lip in the same way ashe had the other night, perhaps imagining me sucking his cock again. I wanted to drop to my knees where I stood and worship his prick until he unloaded in my mouth. The little horny thing that lived inside me had been unleashed this weekend.
He chuckled and gripped my hard cock through my pants. “What are you thinking about?”
“You know.”
“Fuck, it’s so hard to keep my hands off you.” He growled.
