Sylvain Reynard - Gabriel's Rapture

ability to speak had withdrawn as she focused on a single sensa-

tion — pleasure. Every movement of her lover pleased her, even the friction between their chests and the grip of his hands as he held her aloft. She danced on the very edge of satisfaction, breathless with anticipation that the next movement would push her over. Building, building, building, building…

“Are — you — okay?” He was breathing hard, his last word leaving his mouth as a cry as the slightest turn of her ankles pressed her sharp heels into his flesh.

Gabriel’s Rapture

Julia threw her head back and let out a few incoherent sounds

as she climaxed, intense waves radiating out from where they were

joined and speeding along her nerves until her entire body vibrated.

Gabriel felt it, of course, and followed soon after; two deep thrusts and he cried her name into the crook of her neck, his body shaking.

“You worried me,” he whispered afterward. He lay on his back

in the center of the large, white bed while his sleepy beloved curled into his side, her head resting over the surface of his tattoo.

“Why?”

“You wouldn’t open your eyes. You wouldn’t speak. I was worried

I was too rough.”

She moved her fingers along his abdomen to the few hairs that

trailed down from his navel, tracing the texture lazily.

“You didn’t hurt me. It felt different this time — more intense.

Every time you moved, the most incredible feeling passed through

me. I couldn’t open my eyes.”

Gabriel smiled to himself in relief and pressed his lips to her

forehead.

“That position is deeper. And don’t forget all our foreplay at the museum. I couldn’t keep my hands off you during dinner.”

“That’s because you knew I’d lost my panties.”

“That’s because I want you. Always.” He offered her a half-smile.

“Every time with you is better than the last,” she whispered.

His expression grew wistful. “But you never say my name.”

“I say your name all the time. It’s a wonder you haven’t come

up with a pet name you’d rather I use, such as Gabe, or Dante, or

The Professor.”

“That’s not what I meant. I mean you never say my name — when

you come.”

She lifted her chin so she could see his face. His expression

matched his tone, wistful and momentarily vulnerable. The confident mask had slipped.

“For me, your name is synonymous with orgasm. I’m going to

start calling them Emgasms.”

He laughed loudly, a hearty, chest-bouncing chuckle that required

Julia to sit up. She joined him in his laughter, grateful that his moment of melancholy had passed.

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“You have quite the sense of humor, Miss Mitchell.” He tilted her

chin upwards so he could worship her lips once more before relaxing into the pillows and drifting off to sleep.

Julia stayed awake a little longer as she contemplated the anx-

ious, insecure little boy who revealed himself at rare and unexpected moments.

The following morning Gabriel treated Julia to her preferred

breakfast at Café Perseo, a fine gelateria in the Piazza Signoria. They sat inside because normal December temperatures had returned and

it was rainy and cool.

One could sit by the square all day, every day, and watch the

world walk by. There were old buildings on the perimeter — the

Uffizi was around the corner. There was a tremendously impressive

fountain and beautiful statues, including a copy of Michelangelo’s David and a statue of Perseus holding the dismembered head of Medusa in front of a lovely loggia.

Julia avoided looking at Perseus as she ate her gelato. Gabriel

avoided looking at the legions of beautiful Florentine women in

order to watch his beloved. Hungrily.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like a taste? Raspberry and lemon

are great together.” She held out a spoon where the two flavors

commingled.

“Oh I want a taste. But not of that.” His eyes glinted. “I prefer

something a trifle more exotic.” He nudged his espresso aside so he could take her hand in his. “Thank you for last night and this

morning.”

“I think I’m the one who should be thanking you, Professor.” She

squeezed his hand and busied herself with her breakfast, such as it was.

“I’m surprised there isn’t an outline of my body vaporized onto

the wall of our room.” She giggled, holding out a small spoonful of the frozen treat.

He allowed her to feed him, and when his tongue darted out to

lick his lips, she found herself light-headed. A bevy of images from earlier that morning flashed through her mind. And one remained.

O gods of sex-god boyfriends who enjoy pleasuring their lovers, thank you for this morning.

She swallowed hard. “You know, that was my first time.”

44

Gabriel’s Rapture

“It won’t be your last. I promise.” Gabriel licked his lips provocatively, eager to make her squirm.

She leaned over to give him a peck on the cheek. But he was

having none of that. He snaked a hand to the back of her neck and

pulled her closer.

Her mouth was sweet with gelato and the unique taste that was

Julia. He groaned when he released her, wishing he could take her

back to the hotel for a repeat of last night’s performance, or perhaps to the museum…

“Can I ask you something?” She busied herself with her bowl so

she didn’t have to meet his gaze.

“Of course.”

“Why did you say that I was your fiancée?”

“Fidanzata has multiple meanings.”

“The primary meaning is fiancée.”

“Ragazza doesn’t express the depth of my attachment.” Gabriel wiggled his toes in his new, tight shoes. His mouth twitched as he contemplated what to say next, if he should say anything at all. He elected to remain silent, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

Julia noticed what she perceived to be his physical discomfort.

“I’m sorry about my heels.”

“What’s that?”

“I saw the marks on your backside when you were getting dressed

this morning. I didn’t mean to injure you.”

He grinned wickedly. “Occupational hazard for those obsessed

with high-heeled shoes. I wear my love scars with pride.”

“I’ll be more careful next time.”

“No, you damn well won’t.”

Julia’s eyes grew wide at the sudden flash of passion in his eyes.

He captured her lips with his before whispering in her ear, “I’m

going to buy you a pair of boots with even higher heels, then I’m

going to see what you can do with them.”

As they strolled across the Ponte Vecchio under a shared umbrella, Gabriel persisted in pulling her into shop after shop, trying to tempt her into accepting an extravagant gift of jewelry — Etruscan reproductions, Roman coins, gold necklaces, etc. But she would only smile

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Sylvain Reynard

and decline, pointing to Grace’s diamond earrings and saying that

they were more than enough. Her lack of attachment to material

things only made him want to heap them at her feet.

When they reached the center of the bridge, Julia tugged at his

arm and led him to the edge so they could gaze out over the Arno.

“There is something you could buy for me, Gabriel.”

He peered over at her curiously, the crisp Florentine air flushing her cheeks. She was goodness, light and warmth and softness. But

terribly, terribly stubborn.

“Name it.”

Julia paused to run her hand over the barrier that separated her