A Wish a Iss All Amiss

There's a small sex scene in the beginning.

Thank you, Chas, for your edits and comments.

—————————————————————————

Chapter 6

The late morning sun spilled through the window, but Gabriel did not want to wake up from this dream. He wanted to draw up the curtains and block everything and everyone out to stay in bed with Rosaline, with her softness pressing into him, without the deal with The Order, without the mystery of the break-in, without the uncertainty of her crazy plan, without vibrating phones.

Without text messages from Max at ten in the morning telling him he was bringing his wife and their baby to Gabriel's house for dinner because all new parents with a baby wanted to show off their baby to literally everyone they knew. But it would be more reasonable to assume Max just wanted to check up on him, to make sure that he had not done anything stupid.

And he had not.

Everything he had told her last night was true; for once in his life, his truth was not full of lies that he told himself. He did not like her plan, did not like that she felt that she had to protect both of them.

Because it was supposed to be his job. He wanted to protect her from The Order, the break-in, from shame and sorrow so that he could make her happy. He wanted to be happy with her.

But to what end?

So he could personally deliver the final blow by turning her in to The Order? So

he

could buy himself out from the Faustian bargain that he made with The Order all those years ago?

This was why Gabriel preferred the lies. The truth made him feel helpless, like he was useless in protecting the woman that he...

Her hand distracted him from his thoughts, drawing lazy circles around his belly button, twirling the hair.

"What are you doing?" he asked as she continued to send tingles down his body with her hand.

She frowned in mock offense. "In case you're wondering, most people greet each other with good morning when they wake up, or sometimes when they are in a more, hm, how to put it"—she looked over her shoulder as her hand kept dipping lower to the end of his abdomen—"

inquisitive

mood, they ask if the other person slept well."

He arched an eyebrow. "Most people don't wake up next to you."

"Is that a complaint?" she gasped dramatically.

"Depends on where that hand is going."

She let out a luscious laugh as he turned her in his arms to face him, tracing his finger along the curves formed by her hip and her waist, enjoying the way she shuddered under his touch.

"How's your hangover?"

"Depends on where that hand is going."

He laughed and turned his teasing touch to a tickling one. "I'd appreciate it if that mouth of yours could occasionally give me a straight answer."

Gasping for air from the giggles, she climbed on top of him, straddling his stomach, her hair cascading around him, cloaking him in her jasmine scent, then she said, "I wonder what else it can give you."

His heart pounded into the palm of her small hand, which was flattened against his chest as his hands roamed her smooth skin underneath his t-shirt that he put on her last night. His cock throbbed with anticipation.

"Perhaps a kiss?"

He tilted her chin so she looked him directly in the eye. "I take this new development to mean that your head is fine?"

"Ah. Head," bending forward, she whispered into his ear, sucking in his earlobe. "The gentleman has a different idea."

Swallowing, he brought her lips to his before she could wreak more havoc on his sanity and said against the lush source of his demise, "All talk."

"That's what smart mouths are for," she said, warm breath exciting him.

She closed the distance and pressed her lips to his, leaving a featherlight kiss. "And kissing."

Before he could deepen the kiss, she moved away to trail her lips along the line of his jaw to his neck. He leaned his head back to extend his neck, combing his fingers through her hair.

"Lots of kissing." She looked up at him from his chest.

Then she dropped her pink lips to his broad chest, her hand toying with the tuft of hair at the base of his navel. She swirled her tongue around his flat nipple, flicking at the tip. His breath hitched, cock straining; he felt her fingers creep under the elastic of the waistband.

Rosaline lifted her head to look at him, a satisfied smile on her lips, and he knew at that moment that he never stood a chance.

Sliding herself down his body, she rolled his boxer briefs down and revealed his cock to her ardent perusal.

He pressed his head into the pillow when she wrapped her hand around his hard cock, smoothing her hand down his shaft, then back to the tip. Then down. And up again, her thumb brushed against the crown. His stomach muscles contracted and he thrust his hips upwards.

"And did I mention licking?" she asked.

With short, shallow breaths, he came up to his elbows to watch her lick away the liquid excitement on the tip. And when she let out a small sigh—the same sigh she devoted to worshipping dessert—he needed to feel her, pulling her up to kiss her, tasting his own saltiness on her tongue.

He removed her top and tipped her forward, bringing her nipple to his mouth, wringing those moans that he loved so much, wanting to hear her scream his name.

"You're distracting me." Her complaint was a mere gasp of sounds between the pleasurable sighs, making him laugh.

"From what, Goddess?"

With a seductive glance, she moved down his body once again and licked from the base of his cock to its tip, covering every inch of the length with her sweet mouth, making tiny wet noises.

"I've seen it in porn," she said, kissing along the hard ridge.

Gabriel choked. "We need to revisit this conversation."

She swirled her tongue around the head. "I've wondered what it feels like."

"And?" He managed to make his groan sound like a word.

She sank half of the length into her soft mouth, lifted her head and looked to him. "It's smooth and hard. And I like it."

Her mouth was back on his cock, taking him in deep, then lifting her head until only the tip was enshrouded in her hot breath. "You like this."

Like this?

He would not survive. Letting out a harsh breath, he reached for her, desperate to feel her. He wanted her everywhere, on his lips, in his arms, around his cock. "Come here."

"No." Rosaline shook her head, prying his hands away from her body. "This is my exploration and you're distracting me from my goal."

"Which is?" Gabriel arched the dark eyebrow, or so he tried. Blood pulsed in his ears and his cock, which grew harder with each tease.

Her answer was another sinful smile and lick; soft, wet mouth enveloped the hardness. "Besides..."

"Besides?"

Her hands wrapped firmly around him, stroking him up and down, moving him into her mouth, pulling away. And repeat. His hips came up, flexing into her.

His head was whirling when he lost the heat, and then she spoke, "Besides, if I don't put my mouth down—I mean my foot down, I will never get my exploration. And I've decided..."

Her head went back down, sucking him while her hand stroked up, increasing the pressure and speed, pushing him over to the far end of control. He thrust deeply into her mouth in a frantic cadence.

"And I've decided the next time I come, I want it to be around this."

He could not think of any other way.

He reached to move her head away when he felt the first surge of orgasm gripping him, but she swatted at his hands and drew his cock in harder. He spilled into her mouth, pulsating, trembling as euphoria washed over him.

*****

For the first time in a long time, Rosaline was happy; she was happy despite the waning hangover, despite the pursuit of The Order, despite the break-in. She was happy because she woke up to the man with whom she was in love.

And for the first time in a long time, Rosaline was happy that she chose to stay, for even after she had told him that she was in love with him, he had accepted her and he was still here. In fact, he was getting in her way right now.

Rushing to insert herself between Gabriel and his car right before he reached to open the door to the driver's seat, she gave him a sweet smile.

Gabriel looked at her with amusement. "Do you want to drive?"

The corners of her lips lifted more, then she nodded. Even the birds chirping in the trees agreed with her.

"It's just a short drive to the grocery store." His hand reached for the door handle but she took a sidestep, blocking him.

"I don't mind." She covered his hand with hers.

He tried to get around her to the door. "Of course, you don't."

"I'm not going to trash your car."

He laughed and shook his head. "My dearest playwright, I don't care about my car."

"Great, then let me drive." She pushed him aside, which was more for show; there was no way she could physically move him if he did not want to move. She frowned.

"I do worry about my life, however, what with your homicidal tendencies to kill off your poor characters."

"Stay on my good side then." She reached for the door handle and pulled open the door, but he shut it by leaning his weight into the door.

"Kiss me," he said, lifting one side of his lips.

Coming up to her toes, she brushed her lips against his cheek.

His eyes widened. "Like you mean it."

"You sound needy."

Laughing, he gathered her in his arms and kissed her. She opened her mouth to meet his playful tongue, tasting the mint in the summer air, loving the way she belonged there.

Breaking the kiss, she said, "You can ride shotgun."

As the car cruised through the green fields around them, Rosaline rolled down the windows and held her fingers out. The air flew around her fingertips, titillating them.

Rubbing the pad of her thumb across the other fingers, feeling the soft texture, she said, "I can try it in the shop."

"Try what?" he asked, without looking up from his phone.

"Show you how I can use my powers."

Grunting his response, Gabriel shot her a sideways look.

"It'll be fine," she said, replacing both hands on the steering wheel.

Rosaline pulled into the parking lot and saw a man in a pink polo shirt, khaki shorts and boat shoes march into the supermarket. Deep in a conversation with his wireless earbuds, he waved an arm heedlessly, knocking the old woman selling newspapers off her course.

She staggered while he marched on, those earbuds protecting him from the environment like blinkers on a horse. Sensing his presence and his self-appointed importance, the doors swung open to welcome him into the realm of air conditioning and modern convenience.

"I know that look." Gabriel caught her gaze, having just witnessed the same scene.

"I don't have a look." She rolled her eyes as she stepped out of the car.

Gabriel closed his door behind him. "That's your I'm-plotting-but-I'm-not-telling-unless-he-somehow-magically-finds-out-and-makes-me-tell-him look."

"Perhaps I find that I like your way of convincing me," she came up to her toes and whispered into his ear.

He scanned the surroundings, laughing and dropping a kiss on the top of her head. Shivers coursed through her when he said, "This is too public and I'm not sharing you with the world."

They stepped into the supermarket and she saw Mr. Importance head towards the cereal aisle.

"Do we need cereals?" she asked.

Gabriel's dark brow rose.

She smiled, sauntering towards the cereal aisle. He said behind her, "What are you doing?

"Rosaline!" His footsteps followed his voice.

She stopped at the end of the cereal aisle, as the important man confronted rows of colorful boxes, each one healthier and more organic than the next.

"I will make him buy the pink cereal," she whispered to Gabriel as he drew nearer to her.

She made the wish, and like a marionette, the upper arm of the important man lifted the rest of his arm to reach for the pink cereal. With a satisfied smile, she looked to Gabriel, who twisted his mouth to one side.

"For all I know, he has a thing for pink," Gabriel said, nodding towards his pink shirt.

She looked up to the ceiling. "The green one then."

The man looked down at the pink box clutched in his hands, gave a scowl and replaced the pink cereal to the shelf, filling out the only empty spot of the row. Then tilting his head sideways, he took the green one.

"Happy now?" she asked, turning to Gabriel. "Why are you being difficult right now?"

Gabriel pressed his lips together.

When he did not reply, she asked, "Do you need more proof?"

"No," he said, turning and stalking away to get the ingredients for the dinner.

She had expected him to be more supportive than a few grunts and curt responses; she needed to first convince him that she could do this. She frowned at his back, catching up to him, and picked up his hand, interlacing her fingers in his. He gave her hand a light squeeze as they wound their way back to the beginning of the shop.

Gabriel was working through the shopping list when Rosaline saw Mr. Importance dash towards the entrance, and thirty seconds later, the pink-shirt man bolted through her peripheral vision again with an empty shopping cart. The wheels squealed with the velocity.

She narrowed her eyes on the pink trails that tailed behind him. Curiosity propelled her to follow him to the cereal aisle.

Then Rosaline watched the following scene unfold with crippling detachment, covering her gaping mouth with cold hands as air escaped her lungs.

There was a mountain of cereal boxes in the shopping cart. The top boxes perched precariously on the lower layers, surmounting to a delicate equilibrium, until the man dropped the last box of the green cereal onto the peak.

Disturbed by the new force, the boxes started sliding to the floor, plotting their cheerful escape to freedom, dragging the man along with them. He sank to the floor, muscles no longer strung to an invisible force, burying his head in his arms.

Shit.

Then Rosaline felt Gabriel's warm hand in hers, pulling her away from the scene. The man was still sitting on the floor.

Gabriel said softly, "Maybe he decided to try every color of cereals—"

The end of his sentence was marked by a metallic clink. She looked down to her feet and picked up the platinum ring that had just rolled to a stop. The metal was warm to the touch while her pulse roared with cold realization in her ear.

Fuck.

She looked to the cereal aisle but found only an empty spot. Then she heard the eruption. Flailing and wailing, the man was racing through the shop, demanding everyone's attention. "I'm getting a divorce!" he shouted to the ceiling as if he was declaring victory.

Gabriel lifted his eyebrow and one corner of his mouth at her.

"Shut up," she said, chasing the man between the aisles, leaving Gabriel behind, dashing through the automatic doors.

The man stopped, but before Rosaline could catch her next breath, he approached the woman selling local newspapers by the entrance.

Blood and air drained from her brain when the man handed something that looked suspiciously like a key fob to the woman, who, upon receiving the gadget, jiggled, punching her thumb at the fob, whipping her head around the parking lot to look for the car. A red Porsche's headlights winked at Rosaline.

The man twirled around and strutted towards the exit of the parking lot.

Gabriel came out from the shop with their paid groceries, replacing the platinum ring in her hand with his hand. He uprooted Rosaline from the ground and tugged her along to go after the crazy man.

"Sir, this belongs to you," Gabriel said, extending his hand to reveal the ring in his palm, staying the man, who turned around to look at them, a dazed look on his face.

He barely glanced down at the ring. "Keep it. I don't need it anymore."

"But sir, we can't—"

"Steve. No more sirs. My name is Steve," he announced, starting to back away from them.

Rosaline looked to the clear sky as if asking for guidance from above.

"Steve, wait," Gabriel said.

Steve turned around again.

"Why?" Gabriel asked, holding the ring on the edge between his thumb and forefinger.

Steve inhaled and looked at Gabriel, wiggling his forefinger like a tiny wand. "Do you know there are fifty-seven kinds of cereals?"

Gabriel shook his head.

"I counted, every one of them. I have fifty-seven choices of grains at my disposal, but I have always got the same, the most boring, unexciting box every day, for the last ten years. I didn't know there was a pink cereal. Did you know there was a pink cereal? Pink!"

Gabriel tightened his jaw to hide his laugh, and Rosaline elbowed him, turning his laugh into a strangled cough.

"Then it hit me"—Steve smacked his palm against his forehead—"I have infinite choices for breakfast, but I have zero choices in life. I married my wife because she was pregnant. We didn't even like each other all that much but I didn't have a choice."

He waved at where the red Porsche used to be. "And I'm driving that goddamned car because all my friends—fuck—they are not my friends. They are those birds that eat dead things, those birds..." Steve flapped his arms around.

"Vultures?" Rosaline asked under her breath, yet instantly regretting her interjection. Gabriel coughed again.

"Yes, vultures! They just fly around and wait for me to die. One of them is fucking my wife, and I think she's actually happy for the first time in her life. Did you know that?"

Both of them shook their heads.

"The worst of it all is my job.

Upbeat Music Instrument Brand Director

. Upbeat? More like

deadbeat

. Fucking bozos. What does that even mean, brand director? It just means I have more choices in cereals than in my job. I'm on call twenty-four seven, bowing and scraping to everyone. I'm done," he said. "Because, today, I'm free.

"So keep the ring," he said to Gabriel, looking to the ring, then down at her hand. "Propose to your girlfriend"—he waved a hand at her—"or don't. Just don't get her pregnant."

With that, Steve let out the rest of the breath and marched away, leaving Rosaline and Gabriel staring at each other.

The drive back to the house was filled with the alien humming of the car battery; Rosaline kept her focus on the quiet road ahead while he scrolled his phone.

Then he let out the snicker.

"Don't," Rosaline warned.

But it was too late, he was deep in an uncontrollable laughing fit. "You have to admit it's funny."

"It's not. I didn't want to hurt anyone." She certainly did not want to contribute to the rising divorce rate.

He managed to say in between the laughs, "You didn't. You liberated him."

"I only wanted to show you that I could do this."

"You did. You achieved everything that you set out to do."

"Not my intention."

"Consider it poetic justice."

Rosaline looked to him, an exasperated expression on her face. He slid his hand on her thigh and said softly, "Hey, it's OK."

"It's not OK. I just ruined someone's life and we are no closer to solving our own problems than we were yesterday."

He was quiet for the remainder of the trip.

Unloading the groceries from the car, he said, "His life was already in shambles; you just inadvertently made him see the truth."

"No one should have so much power."

Gabriel put down the bag, coming over, and wrapped his arms around her, crushing her to his chest. "Except you do have it, and whether you like it or not, it's a part of you."

"Aren't I supposed to control it if it's really mine?" she asked quietly into his chest.

"But you did. You got him to do exactly what you wanted him to do."