Finally, after what seemed like an hour of unbearable tension, someone touched her shoulder. Jessica startled, looking up to see the faint, star framed silhouette of a man above her.
“Chere?” Gabriel asked.
“Gabriel!” Jessica breathed in relief, getting to her feet. She hugged him fiercely and felt her thin dress soak through with sweat or blood or both--she couldn’t tell. He ran his hands against her back in soothing circles.
“Did they hurt you?” he murmured against her hair.
“No. Nothing I can’t handle.” She pulled back, wishing she could see him. “Thank you, Gabriel. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”
He stifled a groan and slumped heavily against her.
“Oh my god. You’re hurt. Gabriel, where is it? Where are you hurt?” His silence unnerved her. Jessica felt around his body, but she couldn’t find anything that could have weakened him so much--unless it was something internal. The thought galvanized her. “We have to get you to a hospital.”
“No,” he said and pushed away from her.
“Yes.”
“No,” he said emphatically. “You can ... take me ... home.”
He sounded like he was just before passing out. She couldn’t blame him. He’d run off three men nearly as big as he was, and from the sound of them, they’d been insane. She didn’t have time to be impressed. They had to leave before the thugs had a chance to come back. “I’ll take you home. But first we have to catch a cab or something.”
“My car is out front,” he said, and leaned into her for support.
Jessica stood under his arm and they hobbled their way to his car--an old Camaro, its color indistinguishable in the faded dark.
She followed his directions, and he fell asleep as she drove up the Ponchartrain Expressway, getting off once they’d passed the fair grounds. A wooded area came into view, and she stopped at the first house as he’d instructed: a sprawling two story Victorian with a gazebo and porch swing on one end, interconnected with the porch curving around the house.
Jessica didn’t stop to admire the house, pulling the Camaro onto the lawn along a roughened patch of dirt until she neared the front entrance. She stopped the car and switched it off, giving Gabriel a concerned glance before she got up and went around to help him.
He came awake as she opened the door and got out on his own, but Jessica fussed and continued to help him walk. It was just like a man to try and be macho about serious injuries. She didn’t know about his, but she wasn’t about to take any more chances than he was already forcing her to take.
The front door was unlocked, which she found oddly trusting considering the state of this day and age, but she pushed it open and went through. A long, wide hallway shot straight through, past the narrow staircase, to the back door, and large rooms parted off from each side.
“Dere’s d’livin’ room,” Gabriel said, pointing to the right tiredly.
Jessica shuffled to it, feeling on the wall for the light switch. She found it easily enough, flipped the lights on, and guided him onto a worn, leather couch facing an old TV. He collapsed on it, closing his eyes and throwing an arm above his head. He was wearing the same basic outfit she’d seen him in before: Jeans and no shoes or a shirt. Blood smeared his chest and throat, and she knew she had to clean him off to properly to assess the situation.
Jessica left, in search of a bathroom or a kitchen. She found the kitchen in the back of the house on the left. A small cupboard above the sink revealed clean dish rags, and she pulled several out and wet them before returning to Gabriel.
She stopped in the doorway, watching him a breathless moment as she waited to see the rise and fall of his chest. Breathing a silent thanks, she went in and dropped onto the hardwood floor on her knees, leaning over his chest as she slowly wiped the blood away.
There were no wounds anywhere, not even the beginnings of bruises. She kept wiping at him until she’d cleaned his chest, then moved up to his throat and face.
Gabriel slept through her ministrations. Still, she found nothing, no wounds to explain his weariness. She changed rags and cleaned his arms and hands. His knuckles were only slightly reddened, when she’d expected to at least find them split open. She frowned down at him, wondering how he could be unscathed after a fight like that.
Some residual blood clung to a patch of skin bared by a rip in his jeans, and Jessica wiped it away, flushing as she realized how close she was to his groin. She looked back at his face to see if he’d woken up, and nearly choked when she saw him watching her with a hungry look to his eyes.
He looked at her with such heated interest, she could almost swear she knelt before him naked.
“Gabriel, are you okay?” she asked with a breathless little whisper.
He said nothing as his hand snaked out and grasped the hand still holding the towel, lingering near his groin. She dropped it and it rolled down his hip into the cushion of the couch. Jessica gasped as he pulled her toward him, closer, until she was laying splayed atop his bare chest, her mouth inches from his own.
His faint, warm breath made her insides quiver with anticipation. If felt good to lay on top of him, with her breasts squashed into the hard planes of his chest, her belly melded to his rippled, washboard abs. She felt as malleable as molten metal.
His mouth curled into a satisfied smile. Jessica was caught between the urge to strangle him for making her worry, and the urge to kiss him breathless and wipe the grin from his face.
“You weren’t even hurt, were you?” she asked with an exasperated, accusing breath.
“I was wounded more than you know, chere, t’think you cou’ be harmed.”
The reminder of what had almost happened made her shudder, and his eyes darkened until they appeared almost black. A primal look flickered in them, strengthening as he pulled her head down to greet his lips.
Jessica gave in to him, her concern weakening her defenses. Her lips throbbed under the insistent pressure of his mouth, and an electric thrill of excitement rippled through her veins, dancing like heat lightning before a storm. He nibbled her lips, coaxing her, running his hands over her back. Her skin sensitized to the pressure of his hands, and suddenly she had too much clothing on. She wanted to know what it would feel like to mold against him, skin to skin. His whispery touch made her burn, sent her blood pulsing through her body.
He hooked a hand firmly around one thigh, pulling it up and over his hips to settle against the opposite side, hoisting her off the floor until she lay on him completely, pressing him deep into the soft folds of the couch. Her dress rode up from the movement and position until she felt air in places that had never seen the sun.
His mouth grew rough, hungrier to have her above him. Her pulse thundered, echoing in the tight clench of her pussy. His right hand eased around her back, a thumb skating against the side of one breast. Jessica trembled with excitement at his daring, the steady pull of his hand on her thigh, the touch at her breast.
Jessica moaned as her legs parted and his jean clad erection connected with her bare cleft. He thrust upward with rough, sensual promise. She’d forgotten her panties were gone ... until his hand slid up her thigh and he cupped one bare buttock, slipping his fingers in the bottom cleft of her cheeks. Her skin suddenly sensitized, his possessive fingers lighting a sizzling fuse in her body.
Heat curled through her slit, and Jessica gasped at the feel of those callused digits strumming a heady tune on her nether lips, dangerously close to the core of her femininity. He played with the wetness he aroused, smoothing it on her lips to cool in the air, skimming through her swollen folds as though she belonged only to him.
Jessica whimpered into his mouth, jolted with the white hot pleasure shimmering between them.