Entwined with You(46)

I was unbearably excited, greedy, feeling both the submission of my pose and the dominance of being serviced. I could do nothing but take what Gideon gave me, the rhythmic slide and retreat, the sounds of his hunger. The scrape of his jeans against my thighs told me he’d pushed them down only far enough to free his cock, a sign of impatience that thrilled me.


One of his hands left my hip, then returned to rest atop my ass. I felt the pad of his thumb, wet from his mouth, rubbing over the tight pucker of my rear.


“No,” I begged, afraid I’d lose my mind. But it wasn’t my safeword—Crossfire—and I flowered open for him, giving way under the questing pressure.


He growled as he claimed that dark place. He came over me, his other hand moving to finger my sex, to spread me and rub my pulsing clit. “Mine,” he said gruffly. “You’re mine.”


It was too much. I came with a scream, shaking violently, my hands squeaking on the glass as my sweaty palms slipped. He began pounding the ecstasy into me, his thumb in my rear an irresistible torment, his clever fingers on my clit driving me insane. One orgasm rolled into another, my sex rippling along his plunging cock.


He made a rough sound of desire and swelled inside me, chasing his climax. I gasped, “Don’t come! Not yet.”


Gideon’s tempo slowed, his breathing harsh in the darkness. “How do you want me?”


“I want to watch you.” I moaned as my core tightened again. “Want to see your face.”


He withdrew and pulled me upright. Turned and lifted me. Pressed me to the glass and thrust hard into me. In that moment of possession, he gave me what I needed. The glazed look of helpless pleasure, the instant of vulnerability before the lust seized his control.


“You want to watch me lose it,” he said hoarsely.


“Yes.” I pulled the straps from my shoulders and exposed my breasts, lifting and squeezing them, toying with my nipples. The glass was vibrating with the beat against my back; Gideon was vibrating against my front, his body barely reined.


I pressed my lips to his, absorbing his panting breaths. “Let go,” I whispered.


Holding me effortlessly, he withdrew, dragging the thick, heavy crown across the hypersensitive tissues inside me. Then he powered into me, taking me to my limits.


“Ah, God.” I writhed in his grip. “You’re so deep.”


“Eva.”


He f*cked me hard, thrusting like a man possessed. I held on, trembling, spread wide for the relentless drives of his rigid penis. He was lost to instinct, the insistent desire to mate. Raw moans spilled from him, making me so hot and slick that my body offered no resistance, welcoming his desperate need.


It was rough and messy and sexy as hell. His neck arched and he gasped my name.


“Come for me,” I demanded, tightening around him, squeezing.


His whole body jerked hard, then shuddered. His mouth twisted in a grimace of agonized bliss, his eyes losing their focus as the climax built.


Gideon came with an animal roar, spurting so hard I felt it. Over and over, heating me from the inside with thick washes of semen.


My lips were all over him, my arms and legs holding tight.


He collapsed against me, his lungs heaving for breath.


Still coming.


10


THE FIRST THING I saw when I woke up Sunday morning was an amber bottle labeled HANGOVER CURE in an old-fashioned font. A raffia bow adorned the neck and a cork stopper kept the stomach-turning contents safe. The “cure” worked, as I’d learned the last time Gideon had given me the stuff, but the sight of it reminded me of how much alcohol I’d consumed the night before.


Squeezing my eyes shut, I groaned and buried my head in the pillow, willing myself back to sleep.


The bed shifted. Warm, firm lips drifted down my bare spine. “Good morning, angel mine.”


“You sound ridiculously pleased with yourself,” I muttered.


“Pleased with you, actually.”


“Fiend.”


“I was referring to your crisis management suggestions, but of course the sex was phenomenal, as always.” His hand slid beneath the sheet that was pooled around my waist and he squeezed my ass.


I lifted my head and found him propped against the headboard beside me with his laptop on his thighs. He looked mouthwatering, as usual, completely relaxed in drawstring lounging pants. I was certain I was looking far less attractive. I’d taken the limo home with the girls, then met up with Gideon at his apartment. It was nearly dawn before I’d finished with him and I’d been so tired, I crashed with hair still wet from a hasty shower.


A tingle of pleasure moved through me at finding him next to me. He’d slept in the guest room, and he had an office to work in. The fact that he chose to work in the bed I slept in meant he’d just wanted to be near me, even while I was unconscious.


I turned my head to look at the bedside clock, but my gaze snagged on my wrist instead.


“Gideon …” The watch that had been placed on my arm while I slept enchanted me. The Art Deco–inspired timepiece sparkled with hundreds of tiny diamonds. The band was a creamy satin and the mother-of-pearl face was branded with both Patek Philippe and Tiffany & Co. “It’s gorgeous.”