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Claw’s hands close around my shoulders. I think she’s pulling me closer, but instead she wriggles away and leans back on her elbows. She bites her lower lip, and I get the feeling she’s choosing her words carefully. “Gabe, where’s this coming from?”
“From me, the magnificent creature prostrated before you, who wants to give you beautiful babies.” I wiggle my hips so she can feel how ready my cock is to take up the challenge.
For a moment, she falters. Her eyes cloud with lust, and her hips rock up to grind against me. I take that as my cue and reach down to push up her skirt, but Claudia circles my wrist in an iron grip and clamps my hand to the bed. “We’re eighteen. We’re so young. Do you really want to bring a child into the chaos that is our life? Not to mention the fact that you’re in no position to be a stable father.”
I jerk back, the fire in my veins stilled to ice. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
I wince at the harshness of my words. But I won’t take them back. I’m shaking, knocked off balance. If I open my mouth to speak, I will scream.
She doesn’t think I’ll make a good father.
Claudia’s face crumbles. She can see she hurt me. “Gabe, that’s not what I meant.”
“It is.” Of course I won’t be a good father. Look at the shining example I grew up with. Look at the brilliant mess I’ve made of my privileged start in life. I’ve had everything handed to me – all the things other people had to work and slave and kill for, and I still can’t get my shit together.
Claudia has fought for everything she has. She’s lived and died a hundred times, and she’s only eighteen. And she’s never – not for a single moment – let her pain and her rage break her. But I, I am utterly broken. I will always be a screw-up, an embarrassment, a liability. What was I thinking? I can’t have a child. I’m like a child myself, a burden to everyone I love.
I’m supposed to stay sober for her, and I’ve already had two drinks this morning, and if I don’t get to kneel between her legs and worship her soon, I’ll need another.
“You look heartbroken.” Claws strokes my cheek. “I didn’t mean the way that came out. You just surprised me, is all. I didn’t know you wanted kids. After your father, I didn’t think… but of course you want kids. You have such a big, open heart. You’ll be an amazing dad. I’m not saying no. I’m saying, not right now. I need to stabilize our empire first before I can even think about an heir. And you need to get your shit sorted out. You know that. Show me the brilliant, beautiful Gabriel Fallen underneath all the booze, and then we’ll talk about babies. Got it?”
Her words cut. They slice and tear at the bullshit stories I’ve been telling myself, leaving a gaping hole in my heart through which Dylan’s scathing words escape. I swallow down the emotions welling up inside me. She’s right. Of course she’s right. She’s Claudia. My Claws. She’s the only person who’s ever seen me.
What she’s asking is next to impossible. Because the truth is, in all the drink and partying, the schemes I’ve fucked up, and the songs that no longer have meaning, I haven’t seen the real Gabriel since Dylan was alive. I’m not sure he’s worth digging through the bullshit to find.
I’m not sure the real Gabriel Fallen is worthy of Claudia’s love.
I’m terrified to lay myself bare, to open my despair so she can flay my insides with her icicle eyes.
But I have to try.
Because she’s worth it.
“I’ll set up a call,” I promise. Claudia smiles. She tries to wriggle out from beneath me, but I crawl back on top of her, clinging to her with a desperate ache that burns in my chest. I’m too afraid that if I let her go now, she’ll float away, so high above me that I’ll never be able to reach her from down here in the mud. I press my lips to hers. “Later. Right now, I have other duties to perform for my queen.”
I expect her to protest, but I fail to remember the impact I have on her. Claudia is so strong-willed that it’s easy to forget the woman who carved a bloody path to the top of the August empire and the one who comes undone for me between the sheets are one and the same. I can’t believe how lucky I am to see this side of her – the quiver in her lips as she meets my kiss, the way her eyes cloud over as she sinks into the moment, the rise and fall of her breath in her chest as I kiss away her troubles.
Claudia fists my collar and drags me down into the pillows. Her schoolbooks topple over the side of the bed. I straddle her, pushing her top up to reveal her tits. Fuck, she’s so fine. I’ve seen a lot of tits on tour – half the time girls have their tops off before we even get backstage. I’ve become blasé about tits – they are the bouncy, fleshy wallpaper of my life – but then I pushed Claudia into the pool at that party and… fuck me sideways, her tits are magnificent. Because they’re hers.
I bend and suckle one of her nipples, rolling my tongue until she cries out. She wraps her arms around my neck, dragging me closer. There are bruises around her waist where fingers have dug into her flesh. I’d be worried if I didn’t know they belonged to Noah. That boy wouldn’t know gentle if it smacked him across the face.
Those two don’t do tender. They fuck like animals, all scratching and biting and gnashing of teeth. But I get the Claudia who needs to be overwhelmed with her feelings, the Claudia who surrenders. And I’ve never seen her more beautiful or more powerful than when she arches her back and surrenders to me.
“Gabe,” she cries as I move to the other nipple. It hardens in my mouth, and I nip and tease and suck, relishing the taste of her sensitive skin, my eyes locked on hers as she sinks into me, as I pull her under, as she relinquishes her fight.
I wrap my hands around her thighs, pushing her legs apart as I sink back to lie between them. I slowly flick my tongue across her clit, lapping and tasting her until she curses my name. Until her back begins to arch and her eyes roll back in her head.
Touching Claudia is like playing music. I coax melody and heart and emotion from every caress. I know what she needs, and I play her until the music hums inside her, until she sees the stars shatter across her eyelids.
When she’s recovered enough to move, she tugs my belt, her touch demanding. But even though my dick is so hard and my balls are squeezed in a vise, I slide off the end of the bed. “I can’t put my dick inside you. Not until I’ve made things right. Otherwise, it’s too easy to convince myself that everything is okay.”
“You’re fucking serious, Fallen?” she cries. “I want you to give up drinking, not become a monk.”
“I know, but this is the way it has to be.” I shrug, even though all I want to do is fall to my knees for her and make her feel so good again. “I need added incentive, and if thinking about sliding into your warm pussy won’t keep me from the bottle, nothing will.”
“But where does that leave me, you selfish prick?” She throws a pillow at me.
I nod sadly. “I’m sorry. I’ll send Eli in. He’ll be happy to oblige.”
