Gabriel_Salvation Ghosts MC Page 3

  She doesn’t know who I really am. She thinks I’m a psychic with a license to practice. We meet up in front of this warehouse when she has a difficult case, and the police are helpless. I’ll help her and then she’ll help her colleagues, keeping her mouth shut about her source of information—nobody knows about our cooperation. We see each other at crime scenes sometimes, but we’ll never talk to each other then.

  I used to help the previous detective and the one before him—Evelyn’s father and grandfather. She and I met in our bar for the first time. We had a few drinks, talking about my psychic abilities. We ended up in the attic in the room with red walls and a few useful toys. She took my phone number and called me five months later. I regard her as a very open-minded and interesting human, but I’ve never felt a spark, that’s all.

  “Yeah, yeah.” She rolls her eyes, and then looks at me. Her irises shine blue-green as one of her thick eyebrows crooks up. “Just give me something.” Her face softens. “When you’re back from Rochdale… maybe we could have dinner together or something?”

  I’ve always liked our dinners because after the meal, Evelyn always invited me to her house for a session, or two, of good rough fucking. There have been five dinners so far. I like her—she has a good sense of humour and high IQ. I like women. I like fucking them. I never fall in love with them. Nothing wrong with that.

  I can’t even tell whether Evelyn is my type or not. There’s always something interesting about the women I meet. Evelyn’s face has an interesting asymmetry in her lips and eyebrows. I don’t have a favourite type.

  No, I didn’t have a favourite type. Now, Reagan is my type.

  “Maybe,” I say as I jump on my bike.

  I roll the envelope and put it into the inside pocket of my cut as Evelyn’s confused eyes slide over me. She’s a very attractive thirty-five-year-old woman, but I don’t want to touch her even with a five-foot long pole. Fuck me. I think I’ll never ever touch her again. She is repulsive to me.

  Right. I liked fucking women. It seems like it was in my previous life. Now, my hallucination is my every erotic fantasy.

  “You’re busy, huh?” Evelyn says.

  “Yes, very busy.”

  She nods and flashes me a neutral smile, but her right eye twitches, revealing her disappointment.

  “I’ll stay in touch,” I say.

  She raises her hand and waves it in response.

  My bike shoots forward.

  I want only Reagan now. I want to have her naked, beneath me, so that I could sink my dick into her, balls deep. I want to fuck her hard and fast, make her scream with pleasure, make her beg for me to give her more.

  Even thinking of my little redhead causes my dick to grow hard. I almost crash into a truck. Not that it could harm me or something. I’m invincible. The Fallen could kill me, but we’re kind of in one team now.

  As I reach the suburbs of Rochdale, I stop and pop into a supermarket. I grab a tri-pack of toothbrushes, two tubes of toothpaste, two bottles of shower gel, a two-pack of t-shirts, and four packs of crisps. I have a burger in a nice café, and then I check-in to a cheap hotel. I like being like a human sometimes. I like doing tiny human things—like buying three toothbrushes instead of one or sleeping in cheap hotels.

  Stretching my body out on a double bed that screeches with my every movement, I take four photos out of the envelope that Evelyn gave me. They’re four shots of a male body with his throat ripped out. There are also the directions to the crime scene in the envelope. I read them and memorise them. I put everything back into the envelope.

  I leave the hotel room and walk over to the crime scene. A long piece of yellow police tape encircles a square area behind an old cinema building. A line of trees stretches on my left while a rock formation marks the beginning of a path that leads to where five fishing boats are moored.

  Ash clouds have gathered in the sky like an ominous warning, and the wind causes the leaves to rustle. My nostrils fill with the smell of the victim’s blood. I can hear his screams and gurgles. I can sense his fear. But I can’t sense the motherfucker who killed him fifteen hours ago. The police must have finished their job only a few minutes ago. There’s nobody here, but the smell of human sweat still lingers in the air. The echoes of their conversations still linger in the air. The blood of the victim seeps into the cracked asphalt.

  Droplets of rain settle on my head and then a few on my hand. I move back and sit down on a wooden bench. My eyes sweep over a cliff that profiles in the distance. I see a medieval church and a few white houses. The rain grows in strength.

  “Where are you, Reagan?” It comes out of my mouth involuntarily. I shake my head and put my elbows on my lap. Water trickles down my temples and along the bridge of my nose. The wind howls and dances like a wild madness. Then it’s quiet. “Reagan, baby, come back to me.”

  “Gabriel.”

  I jump to my feet and turn around. I see Reagan standing on the path. Her white dress is drenched as is her hair. The wind smacks her and she crosses her arms over her breasts.

  “Where have you been?” I growl.

  Her eyes widen, and she steps back.

  “No, Reagan, don’t go anywhere, baby.” I step towards her, but she steps back. “Regan, sweetheart, it’s me, Gabriel,” I say as gently as I can manage. “Come here.” I extend my arm and wave my hand. “Come here, sweetheart. We need to dry you, huh?”

  My heart pounds in my chest and fear strangles my throat that she’ll disappear again. No fucking way will I allow her to leave me again.

  Reagan beams at me and moves closer to me. Relief washes over me. I’ve never felt this relieved in my life. I’ve felt the inkling of this emotion maybe once or twice in life—when Raphael founded our club, and when I became the club’s enforcer. Each of us wanted to be an enforcer, so I was lucky and relieved, I guess.

  I pull Reagan into my arms and kiss the top of her head. She feels so real in my embrace, her body so beautifully soft and tiny against mine. I grip her waist and lift her off the ground. Her arms wrap around my neck as her legs encircle my waist.

  I’ve never been this happy in my life. Yep, I want to hold this drenched tiny chick in my arms for eternity.

  “I wanted you to stay with me,” Reagan whispers into my ear, her warm breath sending heat to my dick. “But you left me.”

  “I’m here. I’ll stay with you, I promise. Just don’t go anywhere, okay?”

  I feel like I’m drunk with her closeness. Fucking hell. She’s my little treasure, my gem I want to protect at all costs.

  She buries her face in my neck, and her warm breath causes an electric current to run down my back. Her body shivers against mine as I carry her over to the hotel.

  I kick the glass door open and pass a receptionist who widens her eyes, but says nothing.

  I walk into my room, cross it, and enter the bathroom. I sit Reagan on the toilet. Her teeth chatter together, and she shakes as though the temperature has dropped to minus ten Celsius.

  “We need a hot shower, right?” I say.

  Euphoria clouds my mind. My baby girl is with me, and I will never let her go.

  I shake off my cut and kick it towards the corner by the door, and then I pull my t-shirt over my head and toss it onto the beige tiled floor. As I start removing my jeans, Reagan chuckles and covers her eyes with her tiny hands. I step out of my jeans and kick them aside. I move closer to Reagan, my cock rock-hard. A drop of precum emerges from the tip of my shaft.

  “Take that drenched dress off, Reagan.”

  Chapter 4

  Gabriel

  Reagan giggles as I lean over her. I pull her dress over her head and toss it on top of my clothes. I lift her off the toilet and carry her like a child into the shower cabin. Her arms and thighs encircle me. Her naked trembling body is so deliciously plastered to mine. Her smell makes me feel like I’m a mad man. With my arm supporting her back, I turn on the hot water with my other hand. Reagan shudders as the water starts steaming do
wn.

  I draw her closer to me, her breasts pressed against my chest. I’m hyperaware of her hard nipples, and goose bumps spread across her skin.

  “Reagan, where have you been, baby?”

  “In the forest, Gabriel.” It comes out in a breathy whisper.

  Only Reagan can say my name like this. I want her to moan my name. No, I want her to scream my name when she’s cumming on my cock.

  “Do you live in the forest?” I ask.

  “You like the forest. You like it very very much.”

  “I do.” I grab the back of her head and tip her face up to mine. Tiny droplets adorn her eyelashes like diamonds as moisture forms thin glittery streams on her temples. “We’re the same, baby girl.”

  Her fingers dig into my shoulders as she braces my waist tighter with her thighs. Her mound is unshaven, but her legs are as smooth as silk. Her thighs are slim and firm. Perfect. And her feet? As sweet as her little hands. Dirty as hell.

  “You like autumn paint the leaves in the forest in all shades of red and yellow,” she hums. She pats my nose with her fingers and giggles. “And the relief after the rain near the big river.”

  “Yeah, the rainforest is awesome. The colours are so glittery and rich after the rain has fallen.” I support her with one arm and massage her foot to wash the dirt off with my other hand.

  She pats my chin with her fingers and trails a line up my cheek and then across my eye to my forehead like she is memorising my face.

  “Where do you live, Reagan?”

  “Everywhere. Under the bush. Under the fallen tree.”

  “What do you mean? Tell me.”

  She tries to pull away from me, so I tighten my embrace around her. I have no fucking idea of who or what she is, but I know she’s as innocent as a fawn. Maybe she’s some kind of forest spirit. I’ve heard of them, but I’ve never seen any. The truth is that I’ve never paid attention. They’re something between ghost and element. This could explain Reagan’s strange behaviour.

  “Reagan, that’s okay. We don’t have to talk.”

  Her skin has a delicate pink tinge from the heat of the water. The steam creates a hot reality around us.

  I turn off the water and walk out of the shower cabin. Reagan’s arms encircle my neck, and she hums a weird song without words into my ear. It’s like the wind is blowing and the leaves are rustling. I grab a towel and throw it over her back and then carry her over to the room to put her on the bed.

  “Are you hungry?” I ask as I massage her back with the towel.

  She shakes her head, sitting on her heels, and roams her eyes over the room. I sit opposite her.

  “Maybe you want something to drink?” I say.

  She shakes her head. I dry her hair and tear the towel off her. She raises her hands and cups my face. Her lips curl into a smile.

  Her finger trails a line down my forehead and then along the bridge of my nose. She touches my lips, and I bite down on her fingertip. She giggles, her eyes gleaming with childish curiosity.

  I raise my hand and rub my thumb against her lower lip. It’s so fucking plump. Pink like raspberries. I run my forefinger down her neck and then along her collarbone. She giggles and rubs her forehead against my chin. I circle her nipple with my thumb, and it hardens. My eyes are trained on her breast, and I see goose bumps pop up all over her skin. I stroke her erect nipple and roll it.

  “Reagan,” I rasp. My eyes meet hers, and I see how confused she is. “We’ll have a nap, and then I’ll take you to the clubhouse, okay?”

  I fold the comforter and pull her into my arms, covering us both. We lie down on our sides. Her back rests against my chest. Her scent coats me and diffuses into me. She smells of jasmine blossoms. I like jasmines. I’ve always liked them. She smells of the forest. She smells like love and home. Like my every desire.

  I could take her to the clubhouse now, but I can’t resist holding her in my arms like this. My sense of duty has evaporated as though I’ve never been a member of the club, and only Reagan matters to me. Helping humanity is not on my list of interests any longer. Following my president’s orders is not on my list of interests. Reagan is my priority—now and tomorrow. Forever.

  “I love you, Reagan, you know. Love you so damn very much.”

  She giggles, covers her face with her hands and rubs her ass against my hips. My hard dick wants to explode. The bastard screams to fuck. Fuck that cute little thing. Fuck her raw. She isn’t aware of what she’s doing to me—I’m insane. Mad about this childish, primal being that must have fallen from the skies to make me feel happy. There’s no other explanation.

  Yes, I’m happy now. I’ve felt fulfilled in life, but I’ve never been happy. I didn’t need this emotion until now.

  Reagan wiggles against me, and it looks like she has no intention to sleep. That’s wonderful.

  I turn her over on her back, and she lets out half-gulping, half-gasping sounds, her palms covering her eyes.

  “Reagan, sweetheart, look at me.”

  I ease my weight onto my elbow and take her hands off her face. She averts her eyes, her cheeks flushed. Her shiny lips part, and the images of my cock in her mouth flash through my head.

  I run my finger down her temple and under her chin, turning her face to mine. “You’re only mine, right?”

  I don’t know why I want to own her. I want to own every inch of her body and every particle of her soul.

  Her eyes lock on mine—wild, primal. Curious. “Yours.” It sounds like a stream is murmuring in the woods.

  “You know what two people do when they’re lying in bed, naked?” I ask.

  She giggles and covers her face with her hands.

  It seems like she knows everything she should know. My sense of rationality evaporates without a trace. I need Reagan so much. I want her more than anything.

  I want to fuck her like an animal. Now.

  “We could kiss, Reagan, and touch. You want me to touch you?”

  She throws her arms around my neck and plants a wet kiss on my cheek.

  “Yes, baby, just like this.” I pull her to me, rolling over so I lie on my back.

  Reagan is sprawled on my chest, my cock throbbing against her inner thigh. I grip the back of her neck and bring her lips down to mine. She gasps into my mouth. My tongue slips in, and I kiss her slowly. Tenderly. Her mouth tastes like heaven—strawberries and cream sprinkled with that secrecy of hers. With that ethereal magic of hers. I don’t remember heaven, but this kiss is wonderful. This kiss is better than anything I’ve seen or experienced in life.

  My blood pumps in my ears, and my dick demands to be inside her.

  I tear my mouth off hers, her lips so beautifully swollen from our kiss. I tumble her over so she’s on her back and I lie on my side. Her breath ragged, she sinks her fingers into my hair. She enjoys combing through my hair. I love it.

  I run my finger along her nose, across her parted lips, down her throat. I circle and twist her nipple, causing a gasp to leave her mouth.

  “Did you allow anyone to touch you like this?” I rasp.

  “No.”

  “Only me?”

  “Only you.”

  I lower my head and touch her nipple with the tip of my tongue and then draw her breast fully into my mouth. I suck it gently.

  “Only me, Reagan?”

  “Only you.”

  I fold her legs and spread her knees with my hand. My fingers slide down her tummy and she giggles. I spread her folds and rub my thumb against her clitoris.

  “Only me?” I demand.

  “Only you.”

  She’s as virgin as was Earth when I saw it for the first time, and she’s only for me. I’ve never touched anything so innocent, so pure. She wakes a ravenous possessive monster inside me. I want to own her. Wreck her. Chain her to me and hide her only for myself. She’s mine to contaminate her and corrupt her.

  I cover her sweet mouth with mine, crawling on top of her, and I massage her clitoris. I need to see h
er come for me. She moans and it’s the sweetest, sexiest female sound I’ve ever heard. Her fingers dig into my shoulders, her breathing heavy. Her irises turn bright green. She pulls at my hair and digs her heels into my back, urging me to give her more. I can see the impatience on her face. Her body squirms beneath mine. I massage her clit harder, kissing and biting her neck. Her pussy is so wet for me. So hot. She cries out, arches her back and shatters in satisfaction. Her wide, hazy eyes seek mine.

  “Only for me,” I say and it’s a warning.

  “Only for you,” Reagan gasps.

  I kiss her hard and then watch her swollen lips and pink cheeks. A gasp escapes her mouth. I hold my cock and stroke it up and down. I don’t need more—just glancing at her. My balls tighten and heat rushes to my toes. I moan her name as I spill my cum over her stomach. I stroke my cock until I wrench in my whole pleasure.

  I steady my breath and rub my cum on her tummy and then rub a bit on her mouth. She smells of me. She should smell of me. She’s mine.

  My head drops onto her chest, and I listen to her rapid heartbeat. It’s a little bird’s heartbeat. A thought crosses my head. I’m a bad man. I’m gonna wreck this little thing. I’m gonna put my baby into her womb. Yes, I want to be a father, and I want Reagan to be the mother of my children.

  It’s so clear to me that I’m kind of stunned I’ve never thought about it before. Right, I didn’t have Reagan in my life. She made me aware of my needs or she made me have these needs.

  I raise my head. “Reagan, sweetheart, how are you feeling?”

  She raises her hand to wipe her mouth with the back of her hand, but I grip her wrist.

  “No,” I say. “Lick my cum off your lips with your sweet little tongue.”

  She does as she’s told, and she beams at me.

  “Good girl.” I run my finger along her slit and rub her juices on her lower lip. “Do you like kissing, Reagan?”

  “I do.”

  “Do you like touching?”

  She shrugs, rolling her eyes.

  I tickle her chest and she squirms, giggling and gasping. “Say you like it when I’m touching you,” I demand.