Gabriel

“Your eyes glitter like some fucking laser-green torches,” Uriel says. “You lover-boy.”

They probably do. I don’t give a fuck. Reagan’s safety and well-being are my only concerns.

“Take your wife upstairs and come to church,” Raphael interrupts.

“I’m not leaving Reagan,” I say.

The boys erupt into laughter.

Raphael puts his hand on the back of his neck and grins. “Fuck me.” He shakes his head and sweeps his hand in a gesture of resignation.

Reagan slides from my lap and shakes off the blanket. She stands two steps away from me and sweeps her eyes over the interior. My t-shirt looks like a big bag on her, but at least, it covers her tits and ass. A thought hits me hard. She’s so tiny compared to us. So dainty. I pull forward and grab her hand. I need to protect her at all costs.

“Reagan, sweetheart, we’re going upstairs,” I say. “Okay?”

She bobs her head. “Okay.”

Uriel shakes his head. “Fucking hell. Gabriel is out of the picture.”

“He is,” Raphael says. “Happens, I guess.”

I want to protest, but then I realise I don’t give a fuck. I need to guard Reagan day and night so that she won’t disappear again.

“I’m hungry,” Reagan whispers.

“You are hungry?” I stroke her head and joy fills my veins. “That’s great, baby.” I wrap my arms around her and let out a low growl. “Let’s feed you then.”

Michael grabs his own head in both his hands, but Cael looks like he’s happy for me.

“There’s lasagne in the oven,” Cael says. “And two bowls of salad in the fridge.”

I walk towards the kitchen and pull Reagan behind us as Cael follows us. My baby girl is curious—I can sense it from her. She slides her fingers against the wall and then against the doorframe, tasting every imperfection. As we enter the kitchen, I sit Reagan on the table and take two bowls out of the fridge. Cael takes a box of ice cream out of the freezer, opens it, and sticks it under her nose.

Reagan beams at him, and I fucking want to smash his face and knock all his teeth out.

“Try it,” Cael says to her. “It’s really good.”

Reagan dips her finger into the ice cream and squeaks. “It’s cold.” She puts her finger into her mouth and her eyelashes flutter.

She tears the box away from Cael’s hand and crouches on the table, exposing her lush ass. I hear her devouring the ice cream like she’s a kitten.

Cael hisses and then nods at me several times. “Fucking hell.”

“Get out.”

He grins. “A really pretty ass.”

“Get out,” I growl.

He raises his hands in a warding gesture and backs up. I lean over Reagan and grip her waist, pulling her to the edge of the table. My hard dick forms a bulge in my jeans, and he threatens to rip the fabric apart.

“Reagan?”

She turns her face to me. Her mouth and chin are covered in the melting ice cream. A violent instinct takes possession of my mind, and I wind her hair around my fist, pulling her to me. She whimpers as I crush her lips with mine. I taste her chocolatey sweetness with fury and madness. My hand dives under her t-shirt, and I squeeze her breast. She cries out as I tumble her over so her back rests against the table. I part her folded legs with my hand and sink my face between her thighs. She smells like heaven. I run my tongue up her slit and then thrust it into her little cunt. She’s wet and hot for me. Ready for me. Delicious.

I lap my tongue over her clit and that causes her mouth to emit sweet moans.

The door of the kitchen creaks open. I straighten and see Michael sneak in and grin.

“What?” I growl.

“Just wanted to ask whether you want to swap the rooms. Mine is bigger. And since you’re married I thought you might need a bigger room.”

Reagan tries to sit up, but I pin her down with my hand and hold her legs spread for me.

“I’ll take your room,” I say. “Now, get out. I’m busy fucking my wife.”

He chuckles, takes a bottle of spring water out of the fridge, and exits the kitchen. I kiss Reagan’s inner thigh and then devour her dripping little pussy. My girl squirms and moans as I suck her clit and slap it with my tongue. Her moans crescendo, and I feel her come. I devour the abundance of her juices and open my trousers, grabbing my dick. I stroke myself then lean over her and grip the back of her head, pulling her towards my hips. I stroke myself harder. My muscles tense up. I drive my cock into Reagan’s hot mouth. I slide in and out. I slam my cock in as deep as it can go. She gags as her throat squeezes the head of my member, and I cum violently. Blackness obscures my vision.

I huff out and pull my dick out of Reagan’s mouth. Everything is so fucking intense with her. So mad. So good.

“You okay?” I stroke her head.

“Okay.” She flashes me a smile that melds my heart.

I know I’m behaving like a crude animal, but I can’t control myself when I’m with her. My mind is possessed by one thought—fuck Reagan.

“You should try the salads,” I say.

Reagan sighs and curls up into a ball.

“My baby girl is tired, huh?”

Her sigh answers me.

I scoop her up into my arms and carry her out of the kitchen. She drops off to sleep as I reach the bottom of the stairs.

A flutter goes through my chest. What if she disappears?

No fucking way. She’s the love of my life—the only woman I’ve ever loved. It’s so clear to me. I can’t breathe without her.

As I walk into Michael’s room, I see him finish changing the bedding.

“I’ll take my stuff later,” he says. “Let her sleep.”

I lay her on the king-sized bed made of wood and cover her with the purple comforter adorned with crystals. Michael pats my shoulder.

“Let’s go,” he says.

“I’m not leaving her.”

“She needs rest.” He squeezes my shoulder. “Can’t you feel it? She’s exhausted. Man, she’s a delicate little thing.”

“I need to be with her.”

“You need to tidy up the kitchen.” He slaps me on the back. “We need to talk.”

“I know, but—“

“Seriously.” He sweeps his eyes over Reagan. “We fixed that strange energy disturbance around her. Everything seems to be fine. Let her sleep. She needs a good rest. You’ve seen those dark circles under her eyes?”

He sounds sensible so I nod, and we exit the room. I reach the top of the stairs and uneasiness sits on my chest.

Michael stops. “Something is fucking wrong.” He turns around and rushes back to the bedroom.

I turn around and run back to the bedroom. I pass Michael, shoving him at the wall. As I tumble inside the bedroom, I see only the empty bed. Reagan is gone.

I sweep my arm and slam my fist on the wall. Blood gushes from the wounds on my fingers as the plastering cracks. Michael stands beside me.

“Where is she?” he growls, clearly taken aback.

“I don’t know.” Rage and helplessness blind me.