Wolf.e: A Dark MC Romance
Wolf.e: Chapter 46

I watch in horror as the bullet hits Gabriel, and he recoils backward a few inches.

“Fuck,” he hisses, and I scream, dropping the gun.

I run toward him.

“Oh my god, I shot you,” I cry out, feeling like I’m going into shock. The bullet landed in the tree behind him and the skin of his bicep is torn open in a sickening way. It’s already bleeding profusely.

“What have I told you? Never drop your gun. Holster it or set it down!” he growls.

That’s what he’s worried about right now?

Gabriel inspects the wound, his jaw set before turning back to me. I wait as he reaches down and calmly tears a clean strip off the bottom of my t-shirt, wrapping it around his arm expertly as he secures it before looking at me. His breathing is calm and even, like he doesn’t even care I could’ve just killed him. I do a little dance of wanting to cover his wound with my hands and not touching it. I finally just drop them to my sides, willing my breathing to calm down.

“Does it hurt? I knew I shouldn’t have tried that. I don’t need a gun. I could’ve killed you. Oh my god,” I cry, tears filling my eyes.

Gabriel looks down at me, gripping both sides of my face, the only expression of pain he shows is a slight jaw tick as he raises his wounded arm to hold me.

“While I’m happy to see how much you care about me, little bird, calm down. It barely grazed me. I’ve had way worse,” he adds, kissing me. “Now, go back over there and this time, hit the fucking target.”

“What?” I squeal. “No way, not a goddamn chance.”

Gabriel reaches up with his left hand and brings it down to my ass cheek. Hard. Did he just fucking spank me?

He’s never done that when we weren’t in the middle of or about to have sex, and I’m not sure if it pisses me off or turns me on. Probably both.

“Take a fucking breath,” he growls. “Don’t make me tell you twice, Brinley. You have to rise above that fear. Focus.”

And then his lips are on mine, forcing my mouth open his tongue slips inside and chases my own. The adrenaline from turning over this power to me mingles with my fear. I melt into him and I can’t control the tears welling up in my eyes. Somewhere over the last six weeks, I’ve grown attached to him, more attached to him than I’ve admitted even to myself. Gabriel nips and sucks my tongue into his mouth, searching every part as if this is the last kiss he’ll ever give me, and hell, maybe it is, because I know I have no choice.

Gabriel won’t let me chicken out here. He pulls back from me, his eyes alive and vibrant from our kiss.

“Don’t let that be the last time I taste those fucking lips,” he says with that sadistic glimmer before he taps me on the ass. “Get going.”

It’s uncontrollable, the emotion flowing through me right now mixed with the adrenaline of shooting him. I throw myself into his arms and do something I’ve never done. I hug him. Under the dappled sun filtering down through the canopy of the live oaks in his yard, I hold onto Gabriel for dear life. He stands as still as a statue for all of five seconds before his strong arms wrap around me and he hugs me back. I don’t know how long we stay like this, but I know I need it. We both need it.

Finally, I back away and look up at him. I nod and walk back to my shooting position. I pick up the gun and take my stance. Looking at this man who has scared the living hell out of me, torn me to pieces, and built me back up into a stronger version of myself, a man who has kept me here day in and day out, a man who doesn’t have faith in anyone has just put all his faith in me. He put this gun in my hand without hesitation and with the utmost trust. It hits me that I could end him right now if I choose, but I know without a doubt it’s the last thing I’d want to do.

I push everything out of my mind and focus as hard as I can on the X in the center of the target. I block Gabriel out. I adjust my grip, forcing the shake from my hands.

“Don’t think, Brin. Just shoot,” Gabriel says.

I breathe in. I think of all his words. He will not die by my hands today. I’ve got this. I’m strong. I’m his girl.

I breathe out as I pull the trigger.

“Fuck yes, baby.” I hear just before his body slams into mine. Gabriel picks me up and spins me around. I focus on the target that I hit just to the left of the X.

“A fucking bad ass,” he says as he kisses every part of my sweaty neck, my shoulders, my lips. “My wicked girl… the things I’m going to do to you.” He smirks. “But first”—he kisses my lips—“looks like you’re also about to learn how to stitch a man up.”

Oh joy.

This day just keeps getting better and better.

“You don’t have anything to freeze it? Shouldn’t we call Rick?” I ask as Gabriel places the sterile needle in my hand.

He ignores my obvious stress. “It’s two stitches, you can do it. I’m sure you took sewing classes at some point?”

I make a face at him. “I did… with fabric not human skin,”

“There’s no difference if you don’t really think about it. This is the sterile side of the counter.” He points to an area he’s cleaned thoroughly. “This is the nonsterile side; you sit here, in the middle.” He hoists me up with one arm as I hold my freshly washed hands up like I’m going into surgery. This man is nuts I’m pretty sure, and yet here I am listening to him so I’m not sure what that makes me.

He grabs a pair of small forceps and places a needle between its teeth then grabs a lighter, holding the flame to the end, curving it slightly. I feel green thinking about piercing his skin with it.

I watch in awe as he lays everything out, cleaning a glass tumbler and then pouring some gin inside.

“Antiseptic.” He smirks, taking a sip. “In case your sewing skills are a little rusty.”

“Careful,” I warn him, trying to make light of what’s before me. “I’m the one with the needle.”

“Only because it’s my right arm, hummingbird,” he says, his brow furrowed. I know it takes a lot for him to trust anyone, to let me take control.

Gabriel pours iodine onto his arm and uses an alcohol-soaked cloth to wipe it clean, the flesh is loose and open and that’s where I come in.

“Two stitches max. Simple interrupted stitch,” he orders, approximating the edges of his wound.

I nod, because that I understand. He takes his latex glove off and places the needle in my hand from his sterile area.

“Fix me up, hummingbird, it’s all you.” With that, he turns and sits in front of me, placing his arm between my thighs, I start to feel my breath increase the same way it does when he chases me, but this time it’s for totally different reasons.

“Come on,” he coaxes. “Get out of your head, if I bleed out because you don’t stitch me it’ll be considered murder.” He grins, and I laugh because I’m pretty sure that was just a joke, something I never thought I’d hear from him.

I take a deep breath and focus, bringing my face down in concentration as I poke the needle through his skin, his jaw ticks but he says nothing as I eye him in horror.

What am I doing? I ask myself for the thousandth time since I met him.

He nods and I continue, poking it through the top of his wound this time but not without great effort.

“You have thick skin,” I tell him as he sits watching my every move, making me even more nervous. I use the small forceps to pull the needle all the way through fully, tying a square knot., Then repeat the process a second time.

“Don’t pull it too tight,” Gabriel says as I work.

“I think it needs three,” I tell him as I eye it up. He inspects the wound and nods, turning slightly to allow me better access to the top of his arm for my last stitch. His free hand begins to graze the inside of my thigh, I flinch.

“You’re distracting the seamstress,” I tell him with a smirk, not looking away from my task.

“Let’s see how well you work under pressure,” he says in his deep timbre, so close to me it gives me goosebumps. “I need a distraction, you fucking shot me,” he adds, and I smirk as I focus, loving this side of him I never see—he seems light, playful… almost.

I push the needle through Gabriel’s skin for the last stitch as his fingers skim over my clit through my spandex shorts, I’m already on fire for him as he plays with me through the fabric. I moan as I tie my last stitch. I set my tools down and look at him, no worse for the wear, his dark eyes say he wants me, and I feel the energy shift in the room as the golden sun peers through the back wall of windows.

Gabriel’s hand moves to the valley of my heaving breasts, and downward over my belly button as I give his wound a final clean, becoming frantic to let him in. He turns his body when he sees I’m done, then abruptly lifts my ass off the counter and pulls my shorts and panties from me. I’m sweat-slicked and panting from the adrenaline of stitching him but I’m soaked just from his touch and proximity. Gabriel growls a deep sound from his chest as he’s met with my desire.

“I forgive you for shooting me…” he says, kissing up the inside of my naked thighs. “And I’ll reward you for hitting your target and for stitching me up. You’ve learned something new, one more thing that makes you stronger, little hummingbird,” he says as his tongue traces up my center.

I let my head fall back, finished with my work and relieved it’s over, I breathe out a moan as my hands move to his hair on instinct. Both of his powerful arms work now to pull me forward onto his face, gunshot wound forgotten.

“Your sweet pussy consumes me,” Gabriel says. “I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want this dripping cunt on my tongue.”

I whimper at his words and remember his powerful body ready and willing for me to take aim. The fucked up thing is it spurs me on, and the way he looks right now, between my thighs, ominous and wounded, his words and his tongue have both desire and adrenaline racing through my blood.

My heart quickens in my chest as he feasts on my pussy with the fervor of a man who could’ve just died. It’s like it makes him even more hungry for me as he trades between pulling my clit into his mouth and lapping up every drop I offer him.

Gabriel pulls me to the brink of coming and then adds two fingers to my pussy, working them in and out of me in time with my bucking hips. I rock forward to the edge of the counter, slapping my hands backward onto it for stability, knocking some of our tools to the floor as he moves the flat of his tongue over me with perfect pace and pressure. I start to lose control. My legs shake and I shudder as a tight coil of lust rolls through me.

“Give me my reward now,” he says as he moves his fingers, hitting the spot inside me that offers me no choice but to fall apart within seconds of his command.

“Come on my tongue with my name on your lips, give me every last fucking drop,” he growls as I do just what he says.

“Gabe…” I cry, shortening his name, his response is to suck my clit into his mouth so hard I feel lightheaded.

“Again,” he says in a low rumble. He likes it.

“Gabe…” I repeat, his praise pushes me over the edge once more. He tosses my legs over his shoulders, I’m unable to hold them myself. I come hard on his tongue, just as he wanted, trying not to tear the stitches out that I just put in.

My orgasm continues as Gabriel doesn’t let up. I grip his hair so tightly I know it must hurt, but he doesn’t seem to care or even notice.

My high crests and I open my eyes, loosening my grip on his hair, staring up at the wood beams of his ceiling while my breath returns to normal. I look down at him, still sitting between my legs, a beautiful god all of my own. My gaze moves from him to the floor where our needle and forceps lie, and as he kisses the inside of my thigh, a tiny smirk plays on my lips.

“Think this area is still sterile?”