still not, I’ve wanted her. In my bed, in my arms, anywhere. I want to not just tell her that she’s mine, I want my cock so far deep inside her that she feels it. That she knows it.
That I know it too.
She’s not your redemption, I remind myself. There is no redemption for you.
That may be true.
But if I could even feel it while I’m coming inside her, wouldn’t that be worth it?
To just pretend, for a moment, I’m not a monster, that I’m more than my bloodline, that I can do more with myself than I do. That I can be a better man. If she can bring me that, even for a second, I think that might be worth everything.
I finish the rest of the glass of whiskey; then I take the bottle and head out of the room and down the stairs. I leave through my side door and cut across the lawn. I pass right by Gabrielle’s window, close enough so that she’ll see me, but I don’t stop. I keep walking until I hit the gazebo, buried in the back of the yard.
I remember Blaise telling me once about when he was younger and that on his birthday, he and his friend were getting drunk for the first time in the gazebo. Father caught him, knocked him around a few times. While Blaise was telling me that, I know he was wanting me to say something that he could relate to. He wanted me to tell him that it wasn’t just him, that our father beat me too. But I didn’t say anything at all; I just let Blaise feel all alone, that Father picked on him and only him. That I was better than him. That I was exempt.
The truth is, my father did the same to me. He was frustrated that Blaise wasn’t like me, so he took it out on him. When it came to me, however, he was angry that I wasn’t like himself, so he took that out on me. I’ve been smacked around, punched—even kicked, once. It all stopped when I became a teenager, became taller, stronger, bigger than him.
But the shit he did I still carry with me. It’s no wonder that Blaise went on to study martial arts. As for me, I just put up a shield, and I’ve never set it down. I let that shield deflect the things my father did and the horrible things I’ve done. I don’t think I could have survived without it.
“Here’s to you, Blaise,” I say, spilling some whiskey onto the gazebo floor before I sit down in the corner. “Sorry I couldn’t have been a better brother.”
“He’s not dead, you know.”
I look up to see Gabrielle standing at the edge of the gazebo, covered by shadows. Something in my chest tightens in a way I can’t explain.
“What are you doing here?” she asks.
I raise the bottle. “Feeling sorry for myself. It’s a new thing I’m trying out. Not sure I like it.”
“Am I intruding?” She gestures back to her quarters. “I saw you walk past with the bottle, and I figured this can’t be good.”
“It’s better now that you’re here,” I tell her. I pat the floor next to me. “Here, sit.”
She walks into the gazebo and takes a tepid look around. “It’s dirty. And you’re still wearing a suit.”
“I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but I have an endless supply of suits. Now, sit. As your boss, that’s an order.”
“Technically I’m off duty.” She puts her hips to the side in a ta-da moment. “See, no uniform.”
“What are you wearing?” I peer at her, trying to see through the shadows. I can’t remember what I saw when I looked through her window. “If you don’t spend your leisure time lounging around in a braless T-shirt and booty shorts, I’m going to be very, very disappointed.”
“Sorry to disappoint you,” she says and then sits next to me, leaning back against the gazebo wall. She’s in leggings and a T-shirt, which somehow aren’t that disappointing. Then she holds her hand out for the bottle.
I pass it to her. “Rough day?”
“Yeah,” she says, having a sip straight from the bottle. She doesn’t even wince. “My boss likes to work me really hard.”
My cock twitches, heat building slowly. “Tell me more about how hard he works you.”
She gives me a wry sidelong glance and hands me back the bottle. “Why, so you can have fodder to jack off to tonight?”