Merry Christmas. . .especially to our friend and faithful reader Donna (forgive me Donna if I am assuming. . .galaxyMafia often gets above her station) and to the good gals down at the Church of Wentworth Miller. . .how were the services this year? You crafty lasses are goin' to the Dickens in a handbasket but galaxyMafia has a feeling y'all don't mind all that much. . .
So. . .here's the third installment in the continuing saga of Wenty-Fresh and the lovely Gabby U.
Gabrielle struggled under him, her face flaming.
“Get the fuck off me!”
“What are you doing here?” He asked, grabbing her wrists, pinning them down against the stone. She looked up at him. . .the moonlight shadowed his features but, still she could see his eyes. . .icy, pale green-blue. . .penetrating. . .the lashes long, the lids heavy, half-closed, luminous. . .the way he was looking at her. . .she knew what he was thinking, she could feel his erection, huge, heavy against her abdomen. . .
She wanted to be disgusted by him. . .he’d shot at her, slapped her. . .
Instead, like some kind of sadistic tramp, she felt her body responding. . .
Just like the old days when they were together. . .
“Get off me!” She screamed at him, twisting her body. “Now!”
Wentworth wished she would stop writhing beneath him.
“Be still. . .” He told her, his voice lowered.
“Get off of me.”
“Who hired you, Gabby?” He asked her.
“Who hired you?” She turned the question around on him.
He stared at her. . .she was beautiful. . .and even more frightening, much more exciting because she was more uncontrollable, more tempestuous that he remembered. . .he hesitated, unsure of what to do. . .should he let her up. . .he didn’t know. . .for some reason, he liked the feeling of having her trapped beneath him. . .
“Please. . .” Gabrielle said, deciding to try another tactic. . .
Maybe being a demanding bitch was pissing him off. . .she knew he preferred a demur, delicate woman, too preoccupied with her manicure and her make-up to fight for her life. . .she knew from experience that he liked her to be a willing submissive he could control. . .
“If you get off me. . .then we can talk,” She told him. “This concrete is killing my ass. . .”
He gave her a dubious look. “Are you armed?”
“No. . .”
Another skeptical look.
“If I had a gun, Went,” she said, smiling. “You’d have a bullet in your head right now.”
His eyes narrowed yet he still seemed unconvinced.
“Would you like to pat me down?” She asked, her gaze lascivious, hoping to catch him with his guard down. . .
His look told her that he wanted to do much more than just pat her down, and once again, she felt herself responding. . .the warmth, the tingle between her legs. . .
But, then the look changed. . .he became serious again, all business. . .
“This is my promise to you,” He said. “If you try anything. . .I’ll shoot you.”
“Do you always keep your promises?”
Reluctantly, he rose up, swinging his leg over her, standing up, helping her to her feet. Gabrielle kept her eyes on the gun in his hand, hanging by his side. . .
“Now, who the hell hired you?”
Dusting herself off, Gabrielle smiled. “After what you did to me do you think I’d be stupid enough to trust you again?”
He smiled at her. “Are you still mad about that?”
“Am I still mad? Do you honestly think I can forgive you for leaving me to die there alone, you bastard!” Gabrielle scowled as she kicked his wrist, sending the gun flying across the sun deck behind him.
He lunged at her, trying to grab her with his uninjured hand. Gabrielle side-stepped him, delivered a stinging right hook to his chiseled, square jaw and cried out, shaking her throbbing hand. She looked past him at the door that lead into the dressing room. . .
She tried to run around him but he anticipated her move, and blocked her. She tried again, and again, he blocked her.
“Where are you gonna go?” He asked, smiling.
Gabrielle didn’t know. . .he wasn’t going to let her get into the door. . .behind her, the railing along the sun deck was four-feet high. . .below the railing was the pool and courtyard. . .she should have taken them up on their offer to provide her with equipment. She could use a damn grappling hook right now. . .
But, in the absence of one. . .and with Went set to tackle her, wrestle her to the ground. . .and maybe even try to have his way with her, what other choice did she have. . .
Sometimes. . .you have to protect yourself. . .
She didn’t need his words in her head right now. . .she couldn’t deal with them, she had to concentrate, figure out her next move. . .
“You’re not leaving until I say you can leave,” he said. “So you might as well tell me. . .who hired you. . .” Gabrielle took a deep breath. “Sorry. . .I’m not allowed to talk to assholes who lied to me.”
She grabbed the top of the railing, pushed herself upon it, swinging her legs over it, and jumped down into the pool, before she had a chance to think about what she was doing, before she had a chance to talk herself out of it. . .
copyright 2005. . .galaxyMafia. . .wants all of y'all who are wonderin' if Wenty and Gabby are gonna "do it" to keep something in mind. . .sexual tension. . .it's what kept "Moonlighting" on for so long. . .when Wenty and Gabby do it, the act will destroy whatever devious fantasy you've got goin on in your head. . .there's no way I can show Wenty "doing it" the way you see him "doing it" in your mind. . .which is not to say I am copping out. . .we just have a long way to go so be patient and I hope you stick with me!!