Diavolo Ch 07 - Sex Stories

Diavolo Ch 07

... from the fridge, he strode out to the living room and squatted down beside Gabe, who was rising up on his elbows with a grimace. Michael popped two pills in his mouth and tipped the glass to his lips. Gabriel swallowed, and when done scowled at Abigail. “H-hi,” she whispered. Green eyes narrowed. Michael strode back into the kitchen. “Let me whip something up quick and I’ll get back to you, Gabe.” “No,” Abigail blurted. “I’ll make breakfast. You can tend to him.” Put some clothes on him—she thought. Erica had made herself at home on one of the stools, busy with a small gaming device. When Abigail volunteered to make breakfast, she looked up with a pout, eyes big as saucers. “Ooh, maybe I should help, too.” Michael’s brows shot up. “Maybe not. Last time you tried to help in the kitchen the microwave caught fire.” Erica gave him a bored roll of the eyes as she slid from her stool. “The popcorn box said to microwave at high for two minutes. It didn’t say anything about removing the package from the box.” Abigail’s hands paused over the carton of eggs she was about to grab to stare at the other couple. Michael just gave her a shrug and proceeded to turn back to Gabriel. Not wanting to see Gabriel naked, she busied herself scrambling eggs and chopping peppers, onions and tomatoes for her omelet. Erica made toast. At least she tried. Abigail had to run to release the lever on the toaster when the scent of burned bread began to permeate the kitchen. Erica had excused herself to go ...

... to the bathroom and hadn’t returned. Abigail frowned when she saw the toasting control had been turned up to maximum. Then, she had to run back to the skillet to turn her omelet over before it burned too. Minutes later, as she arranged plates on the table in front of the glass doors to the balcony, she heard the familiar sound of Gabe’s crutches thumping on the wooden floor, drawing closer. Michael had taken him to the bathroom by the kitchen. She’d heard the shower running until a few minutes ago. Abigail had set up a covered platter with the omelet as well as another two with the toast and some fruit and cheeses she’d diced up. “Hope the coffee hasn’t gone cold. Where’s Erica?” Michael was saying. “She said she needed to use the bathroom,” Abigail answered turning toward the stairs, wondering which one she’d disappeared into. The house had four bathrooms. Gabriel smelled of fresh soap and shampoo. He wore a pair of black, drawstring, cotton pants that hung off his hips enticingly. His wet hair was brushed back behind his ears. In the reflection she could see it reached just between his shoulder blades. Michael shrugged and grinned at Abigail as he pulled out a chair for Gabriel. “Well, it’ll be nice to eat something someone else cooked and have company for a change.” He also pulled out a chair for her and she sat, wondering at his words. “Erica’s not very inclined toward the kitchen?” she asked with a polite smile. Michael snorted and said nothing more as he served first her ...