Friday found Trey sharing breakfast with Cary and me after an overnighter. As I drank the day's first cup of coffee, I watched him interact with Cary and I was genuinely thrilled to see the intimate smiles and covert touches they gave one another.
I'd had easy relationships like that and hadn't appreciated them at the time. They had been comfortable and uncomplicated, but they'd been superficial in a fundamental way, too.
How deep could a love affair get if you didn't know the darkest recesses of your lover's soul? That was the dilemma I'd faced with Gideon.
Day 2 After Gideon had begun. I found myself wanting to go to him and apologize for leaving him yet again. I wanted to tell him I was there for him, ready to listen or simply offer silent comfort. But I was too emotionally invested. I got wounded too easily. I was too afraid of rejection. And knowing he wouldn't let me get too close only intensified that fear. Even if we did figure things out, I'd only tear myself apart trying to live with just the bits and pieces he decided to share with me.
At least my job was going well. The celebratory lunch the executives gave in honor of the agency landing the Kingsman account made me genuinely happy. I felt blessed to work in such a positive environment. But when I heard that Gideon had been invited - although no one expected him to show up - I returned quietly to my desk and focused on work the rest of the afternoon.
I hit the gym on the way home; then picked up some items to make fettuccini alfredo for dinner with creme brulee for dessert - comfort food guaranteed to put me in a carbohydrate coma. I expected sleep to offer me a break from the endless what-ifs my brain was recycling, hopefully long into Saturday morning.
Cary and I ate in the living room with chopsticks, his idea to cheer me up. He said dinner was great, but I couldn't tell. I snapped out of it when he fell silent, too, and I realized I was being a less than stellar friend.
"When are the Grey Isles' campaign ads going up?" I asked.
"I'm not sure, but get this..." He grinned. "You know how it is with male models - we're tossed around like condoms at an orgy. It's tough to stand out from the crowd, unless you're dating someone famous. Which I'm suddenly reported to be doing since those photos of you and me were plastered everywhere. I'm the side piece of action in your relationship with Gideon Cross. You've done wonders for making me a hot commodity."
I laughed. "You didn't need my help for that."
"Well, it certainly didn't hurt. Anyway, they called me back for a couple more shoots. I think they might just use me for more than five minutes."
"We'll have to celebrate," I teased.
"Absolutely. When you're up for it."
We ended up hanging out and watching the original Tron. His smartphone rang twenty minutes into the movie and I heard him speaking to his agency. "Sure. I'll be there in fifteen, tops. I'll call you when I get there."
"Got a job?" I asked after he'd hung up.
"Yeah. A model showed up for a night shoot so trashed he's worthless." He studied me. "You wanna come?"
I stretched my legs out on the couch. "Nope. I'm good right here."
"You sure you're okay?"
"All I need is mindless entertainment. Just the thought of getting dressed again exhausts me." I'd be happy wearing my flannel pajama bottoms and holey old tank top all weekend. As much as I hurt inside, total comfort outside seemed like a necessity. "Don't worry about me. I know I've been a mess lately, but I'll get it together. Go on and enjoy yourself."
After Cary rushed out, I paused the movie and went to the kitchen for some wine. I stopped by the breakfast bar, my fingertips gliding over the roses Gideon had sent me the previous weekend. Petals fell to the countertop like tears. I thought about cutting the stems and using the flower food packet that came with the bouquet, but it was pointless hanging on to them. I'd throw the arrangement away tomorrow, the last reminder of my equally doomed relationship.
I'd gotten farther with Gideon in one week than I had with other relationships that lasted two years. I would always love him for that. Maybe I'd always love him, period.
And one day, that might not hurt so badly.
"Rise and shine, sleepyhead," Cary singsonged as he yanked the comforter off of me.
"Ugh. Go away."
"You've got five minutes to get your ass up and in the shower, or the shower's coming to you."
Opening one eye, I peeked at him. He was shirtless and wearing baggy pants that barely clung to his hips. As far as wake-up calls went, he was prime. "Why do I have to get up?"
"Because when you're flat on your back you're not on your feet."
"Wow. That was deep, Cary Taylor."
He crossed his arms and shot me an arch look. "We need to go shopping."
I buried my face in the pillow. "No."
"Yes. I seem to remember you saying this was a 'Sunday garden party' and 'rock star gathering' in the same sentence. What the hell do I wear to something like that?"
"Ah, well. Good point."
"What are you wearing?"
"I...I don't know. I was leaning toward the 'English tea with hat' look, but now I'm not so sure."
He gave a brisk nod. "Right. Let's hit the shops and find something sexy, classy, and cool."
Growling a token protest, I rolled out of bed and padded over to the bathroom. It was impossible to shower without thinking of Gideon, without picturing his perfect body and remembering the desperate sounds he made when he came in my mouth. Everywhere I looked, Gideon was there. I'd even started hallucinating black Bentley SUVs all around town. I thought I spotted one damn near everywhere I went.
Cary and I had lunch; then we bounced all over the city, hitting the best of the Upper East Side thrift stores and Madison Avenue boutiques before taking a taxi downtown to SoHo. Along the way, Cary had two teenage girls ask for his autograph, which tickled me more than him, I think.
"Told you," he crowed.
"Told me what?"
"They recognized me from an entertainment news blog. One of the posts about you and Cross."
I snorted. "Glad my love life is working out for someone."
He was due at another job around three and I went with him, spending a few hours in the studio of a loud and brash photographer. Remembering it was Saturday, I slipped into a far corner and made my weekly call to my dad.
"You still happy in New York?" he asked me above the background noise of dispatch talking over the radio in his cruiser.
"So far so good." A lie, but the truth helped no one.
His partner said something I didn't catch. My dad snorted and said, "Hey, Chris insists he saw you on television the other day. Some cable channel, celebrity gossip thing. The guys won't leave me alone about it."
I sighed. "Tell them watching those shows is bad for their brain cells."
"So you're not dating one of the richest men in America?"
"No. What about your love life?" I asked, quickly diverting. "Are you seeing anyone?"
"Nothing serious. Hang on." He responded to a call on the radio, then said, "Sorry, sweetheart. I have to run. I love you. Miss you like crazy."
"I miss you, too, Daddy. Be careful."
I killed the call and went back to my former spot to wait for Cary to wrap things up. In the lull, my mind tormented me. Where was Gideon now? What was he doing?
Would Monday bring me an inbox full of photos of him with another woman?
Sunday afternoon I borrowed Clancy and one of Stanton's town cars for the drive out to the Vidal estate in Dutchess County. Leaning back in the seat, I looked out the window, absently admiring the serene vista of rolling meadows and green woodlands that stretched to the distant horizon. I realized I was working on Day 4 After Gideon. The pain I'd felt the first few days had turned into a dull throbbing that felt almost like the flu. Every part of my body ached, as if I was going through some sort of physical withdrawal and my throat burned with unshed tears.
"Are you nervous?" Cary asked me.
I glanced at him. "Not really. Gideon won't be there."
"You're sure about that?"
"I wouldn't be going if I thought otherwise. I do have some pride you know." I watched him drum his fingers on the armrest between our two seats. For all the shopping we'd done yesterday, he'd made only one purchase: a black leather tie. I'd teased him mercilessly about it, he of the perfect fashion sense going with something like that.
He caught me looking at it. "What? You still don't like my tie? I think it works well with the emo jeans and my lounge lizard jacket."
"Cary" - my lips quirked - "you can wear anything."
It was true. Cary could pull any look off, a benefit of having a sculpted rangy body and a face that could make angels weep.
I set my hand over his restless fingers. "Are you nervous?"
"Trey didn't call last night," he muttered. "He said he would."
I gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. "It's just one missed call, Cary. I'm sure it doesn't mean anything serious."
"He could've called this morning," he argued. "Trey's not flakey like the others I've dated. He wouldn't have forgotten to call, which means he just doesn't want to."
"The rat bastard. I'll be sure to take lots of pictures of you having a great time looking sexy, classy, and cool to torment him with on Monday."
His mouth twitched. "Ah, the deviousness of the female mind. It's a shame Cross won't see you today. I think I got a semi when you came out of your room in that dress."
"Eww!" I smacked his shoulder and mock-glared when he laughed.
The dress had seemed perfect to both of us when we'd found it. It was cut in a classic garden party style - fitted bodice with a knee-length skirt that flared out from the waist. It was even white with flowers. But that's where the tea-and-crumpets style ended.
The edginess came from the strapless form, the alternating layers of black and crimson satin underskirts that gave it volume, and the black leather flowers that looked like wicked pinwheels. Cary had picked the red Jimmy Choo peep-toe pumps out of my closet and the ruby drop earrings to give it all the finishing touch. We'd decided to leave my hair loose around my shoulders, in case we arrived and learned that hats were required. All in all, I felt pretty and confident.
Clancy drove us through an imposing set of monogrammed gates and turned into a circular driveway, following the direction of a valet. Cary and I got out by the entrance, and he took my arm as my heels sank into blue-gray gravel on the walk to the house.
Upon entering the Vidal's sprawling Tudor-style mansion, we were warmly greeted by Gideon's family in a receiving line - his mother, stepfather, Christopher, and their sister.
I took in the sight, thinking the Vidal family could only look more perfect if Gideon was lined up with them. His mother and sister had his coloring, both women boasting the same glossy obsidian hair and thickly-lashed blue eyes. They were both beautiful in a finely wrought way.
"Eva!" Gideon's mother drew me toward her, then air-kissed both of my cheeks. "I'm so pleased to finally meet you. What a gorgeous girl you are! And your dress. I love it."
Her hands brushed over my hair, cupped my face, and then slid down my arms. It was hard for me to bear it, because touching was sometimes an anxiety trigger for me when the person was a stranger. "Your hair, is it naturally blond?"
"Yes," I replied, startled and confused by the question. Who asked a question like that of a stranger?
"How fascinating. Well, welcome. I hope you have a wonderful time. We're so glad you could make it."
Feeling strangely unsettled, I was grateful when her attention moved to Cary and zeroed in.
"And you must be Cary," she crooned. "Here I'd been certain my two boys were the most attractive in the world. I see I was wrong about that. You are simply divine, young man."
Cary flashed his megawatt smile. "Ah, I think I'm in love, Mrs. Vidal."
She laughed with throaty delight. "Please. Call me Elizabeth. Or Lizzie, if you're brave enough."
Looking away, I found my hand clasped by Christopher Vidal Senior. In many ways, he reminded me of his son, with his slate green eyes and boyish smile. In others, he was a pleasant surprise. Dressed in khakis, loafers, and a cashmere cardigan, he looked more like a college professor than a music company executive.
"Eva. May I call you Eva?"
"Call me Chris. It makes it a little easier to distinguish between me and Christopher." His head tilted to the side as he contemplated me through quirky brass spectacles. "I can see why Gideon is so taken with you. Your eyes are a stormy gray, yet they're so clear and direct. Quite the most beautiful eyes I think I've ever seen, aside from my wife's."
I flushed. "Thank you."
"Is Gideon coming?"
"Not that I'm aware of." Why didn't his parents know the answer to that question?
"We always hope." He gestured at a waiting servant. "Please head back to the gardens and make yourself at home."
Christopher greeted me with a hug and a kiss on the cheek, while Gideon's sister Ireland sized me up in a sulky way that only a teenager could pull off. "You're a blonde," she said.
Jeez. Was Gideon's preference for dark-haired women a damn law or something? "And you're a very lovely brunette."
Cary offered me his arm and I accepted it gratefully.
As we walked away, he asked me quietly, "Were they what you expected?"
"His mom, maybe. His stepdad, no." I looked back over my shoulder, taking in the elegant floor-length cream sheath dress that clung to Elizabeth Vidal's svelte figure. I thought of what little I knew about Gideon's family. "How does a boy grow up to be a businessman who takes over his stepfather's family business?"
"Cross owns shares in Vidal Records?"
"Hmm. Maybe it was a bailout?" he offered. "A helping hand during a trying time for the music industry?"
"Why not just give him the money?" I wondered.
"Because he's a shrewd businessman?"
With a sharp exhalation, I waved the question away and cleared my mind. I was attending the party for Cary, not Gideon, and I was going to keep that first and foremost in my thoughts.
Once we'd moved outside, we found a large, elaborately decorated marquee erected in the rear garden. Although the day was beautiful enough to stay out in the sun, I found a seat at a circular table covered in white damask instead.
Cary patted my shoulder. "You relax. I'll network."
"Go get 'em."
He moved away, intent on his agenda.
I sipped champagne and chatted with everyone who stopped by to strike up a conversation. There were a lot of recording artists at the party whose work I listened to, and I watched them covertly, a bit starstruck. For all the elegance of the surroundings and the endless number of servants, the overall vibe was casual and relaxed.
I was starting to enjoy myself when someone I'd hoped never to see again stepped out of the house onto the terrace: Magdalene Perez, looking phenomenal in a rose-hued chiffon gown that floated around her knees.
A hand settled on my shoulder and squeezed, setting my heart racing because it reminded me of the night Cary and I had gone to Gideon's club. But the figure that rounded me this time was Christopher.
"Hey, Eva." He took the chair next to mine and set his elbows on his knees, leaning toward me. "Are you having fun? You're not mingling much."
"I'm having a great time." At least I had been. "Thank you for inviting me."
"Thank you for coming. My parents are stoked you're here. Me, too, of course." His grin made me smile, as did his tie, which had cartoon vinyl records all over it. "Are you hungry? The crab cakes are great. Grab one when the tray comes by."
"I'll do that."
"Let me know if you need anything. And save a dance for me." He winked, and then hopped up and away.
Ireland took his seat, arranging herself with the practiced grace of a finishing school graduate. Her hair fell in a single length to her waist and her beautiful eyes were direct in a way I could appreciate. She looked worldlier than her seventeen years. "Hi."
I shrugged at the blunt question. "I'm not sure."
She nodded sagely. "He's good at being a loner."
"Has he always been that way?"
"I guess. He moved out when I was little. Do you love him?"
My breath caught for a second. I released it in a rush and said simply, "Yes."
"I thought so when I saw that video of you two in Bryant Park." She bit her lush lower lip. "Is he fun? You know...to hang around with?"
"Oh. Well..." God. Did anyone know Gideon? "I wouldn't say he's fun, but he's never boring."
The live band began playing "I've Got You Under My Skin" and Cary appeared beside me as if by magic. "Time to make me look good, Ginger."
"I'll try my best, Fred." I smiled at Ireland. "Excuse me a minute."
"Three minutes, forty seconds," she corrected, displaying some of her family's expertise in music.
Cary led me onto the empty dance floor and pulled me into a swift foxtrot. It took me a minute to get into it, because I'd been stiff and tight with misery for days. Then the synergy of longtime partners kicked in and we glided across the floor with sweeping steps.
When the singer's voice faded with the music, we stopped, breathless. We were pleasantly surprised by applause. Cary gave an elegant bow and I held on to his hand for stability as I dipped into a curtsy.
When I lifted my head and straightened, I found Gideon standing in front of me. Startled, I stumbled back a step. He was seriously underdressed in jeans and an untucked white dress shirt that was open at the collar and rolled up at the sleeves, but he was so damn fine he still put every other man in attendance to shame.
The tremendous yearning I felt at the sight of him overwhelmed me. Distantly I was aware of the band's singer pulling Cary away, but I couldn't tear my gaze away from Gideon, whose wildly blue eyes burned into mine.
"What are you doing here?" he snapped, scowling.
I recoiled from his harshness. "Excuse me?"
"You shouldn't be here." He grabbed me by the elbow and started hauling me toward the house. "I don't want you here."
If he'd spit in my face, it couldn't have devastated me more. I yanked my arm free of him and walked briskly toward the house with my head held high, praying I could make it to the privacy of the town car and Clancy's protective watch before the tears started falling.
Behind me, I heard a come-hither female voice call out Gideon's name and I sent up a prayer that the woman would stall him long enough for me to get out without further confrontation.
I thought I just might make it when I passed into the cool interior of the house.
My shoulders hunched at the sound of Gideon's voice and I refused to look at him. "Get lost. I can show myself out."
"I'm not done - "
"I am!" I pivoted to face him. "You don't get to talk to me that way. Who do you think you are? You think I came here for you? That I was hoping I'd see you and you'd throw me a goddamn scrap or bone...some pathetic acknowledgment of my existence? Maybe I'd be able to harass you into a quick, dirty fuck in a corner somewhere in a pitiful effort to win you back?"
"Shut up, Eva." His gaze was scorching hot, his jaw tight and hard. "Listen to me - "
"I'm only here because I was told you wouldn't be. I'm here for Cary and his career. So you can go back to the party and forget about me all over again. I assure you, when I walk out the door, I'll be doing the same to you."
"Shut your damned mouth." He caught me by the elbows and shook me so hard my teeth snapped together. "Just shut up and let me talk."
I slapped him hard enough to turn his head. "Don't touch me."
With a growl, Gideon hauled me into him and kissed me hard, bruising my lips. His hand was in my hair, fisting it roughly, holding me in place so I couldn't turn away. I bit the tongue he thrust aggressively into my mouth, then his lower lip, tasting blood, but he didn't stop. I shoved at his shoulders with everything I had, but I couldn't budge him.
Goddamn Stanton! If not for him and my crazy-assed mother, I'd have had a few Krav Maga classes under my belt by now...
Gideon kissed me as if he was starved for the taste of me and my resistance began to melt. He smelled so good, so familiar. His body felt so perfectly right against mine. My nipples betrayed me, hardening into tight points, and a slow, hot trickle of arousal gathered in my core. My heart thundered in my chest.
God, I wanted him. The craving hadn't gone away, not even for a minute.
He picked me up. Imprisoned by his tight grip, it was hard to breathe and my head began to spin. When he carried me through a door and kicked it shut behind him, I couldn't do more than make a feeble sound of protest.
I found myself pressed against a heavy glass door on the other side of a library, Gideon's hard and powerful body subduing my own. His arm at my waist slid lower, his hand delving beneath my skirts and finding the curves of my butt exposed by my lacy boy shorts underwear. He wrenched my hips hard to his, making me feel how hard he was, how aroused. My sex trembled with want, achingly empty.
All the fight left me. My arms fell to my sides, my palms pressing flat to the glass. I felt the brittle tension drain from his body as I softened in surrender, the pressure of his mouth easing and his kiss turning into a passionate coaxing.
"Eva," he breathed gruffly. "Don't fight me. I can't take it."
My eyes closed. "Let me go, Gideon."
He nuzzled his cheek against mine, his breath gusting hard and fast over my ear. "I can't. I know you're disgusted by what you saw the other night...what I was doing to myself - "
"Gideon, no!" God. Did he think I left him because of that? "That's not why - "
"I'm losing my mind without you." His lips were gliding down my neck, his tongue stroking over my racing pulse. He sucked on my skin and pleasure radiated through me. "I can't think. I can't work or sleep. My body aches for you. I can make you want me again. Let me try."
Tears slipped free and ran down my face. They splashed on the upper swell of my breasts and he licked at them, lapping them away.
How would I ever recover if he made love to me again? How would I survive if he didn't?
"I never stopped wanting you," I whispered. "I can't stop. But you hurt me, Gideon. You have the power to hurt me like no one else can."
His gaze was stark and confused on my face. "I hurt you? How?"
"You lied to me. You shut me out." I cupped his face, needing him to understand this one thing without question. "Your past doesn't have the power to push me away. Only you can do that, and you did."
"I didn't know what to do," he rasped. "I never wanted you to see me like that..."
"That's the problem, Gideon. I want to know who you are, the good and the bad, and you want to keep parts of yourself hidden from me. If you don't open up, we're going to lose each other down the road and I won't be able to take it. I'm barely surviving it now. I've crawled through the last four days of my life. Another week, a month...It'll break me to give you up."
"I can let you in, Eva. I'm trying. But your first response when I screw up is to run away. You do it every time and I can't stand feeling like any moment I'm going to do or say something wrong and you're going to bolt."
His mouth was tender again as he brushed his lips back and forth over mine. I didn't argue with him. How could I, when he was right?
"I hoped you'd come back on your own," he murmured, "but I can't stay away anymore. I'll carry you out of here if I have to. Whatever it takes to get you back in the same room with me, talking this out."
My heart stuttered. "You were hoping I'd come back? I thought...You gave me back my keys. I thought we were over."
He pulled back, his face set in fierce lines. "We'll never be over, Eva."
I looked at him, my heart aching like an open wound at how beautiful he was, how broken and in pain he was - pain I'd caused to some degree.
On tiptoes, I kissed the reddened handprint I'd left on his cheek, clutching his thick silky hair in my hands.
Gideon bent his knees to align our bodies, his breathing harsh and erratic. "I'll do whatever you want, whatever you need. Anything. Just take me back."
Maybe I should have been scared by the depth of his need, but I felt the same passionate insanity for him.
Running my hands down his chest in an effort to soothe his trembling, I gave him the hard truth. "We can't seem to stop making each other miserable. I can't keep doing this to you and I can't keep going through these crazy highs and lows. We need help, Gideon. We're seriously dysfunctional."
"I saw Dr. Petersen on Friday. He's going to take me on as a patient, and - if you agree - he'll take us both on as a couple. I figured if you can trust him, I can try."
"Dr. Petersen?" I remembered the brief jolt I'd felt at seeing a black Bentley SUV when Clancy pulled away from the doctor's office. At the time, I'd told myself it was wishful thinking. After all, there were countless black SUVs in New York. "You had me followed."
His chest expanded on a deep breath. He didn't deny it.
I bit back my anger. I could only imagine how terrible it must be for him to be so dependent on something - someone - he couldn't control. What mattered most at that moment were his willingness to try and the fact that it wasn't just talk. He'd actually taken steps. "It's going to be a lot of work, Gideon," I warned him.
"I'm not afraid of work." He was touching me restlessly, his hands sliding over my thighs and buttocks as if caressing my bare skin was as necessary to him as breathing. "I'm only afraid of losing you."
I pressed my cheek to his. We completed each other. Even now, as his hands roamed possessively over me, I felt a thawing in my soul, the desperate relief of being held - finally - by the man who understood and satisfied my deepest, most intimate desires.
"I need you." His mouth was sliding over my cheek and down my throat. "I need to be inside you..."
"No. My God. Not here." But my protest sounded weak even to my own ears. I wanted him anywhere, anytime, any way...
"It has to be here," he muttered, dropping to his knees. "It has to be now."
He chafed my skin ripping the lace of my panties away; then he shoved my skirts to my waist and licked my cleft, his tongue parting my folds to stroke over my throbbing clit.
I gasped and tried to recoil, but there was nowhere to go. Not with the door at my back and a grimly determined Gideon in front, one hand keeping me pinned while the other lifted my left leg over his shoulder, opening me to his ardent mouth.
My head thudded against the glass, heat pulsing through my blood from the point where his tongue was driving me mad. My leg flexed against his back, urging him closer, my hands cupping his head to hold him still as I rocked into him. Feeling the rough satin strands of his hair against my sensitive inner thighs was its own provocation, heightening my awareness of everything around me...
We were in Gideon's parents' house, in the midst of a party attended by dozens of famous people, and he was on his knees, growling his hunger as he licked and sucked my slick, aching cleft. He knew just how to get to me, knew what I liked and needed. He had an understanding of my nature that went above and beyond his incredible oral skills. The combination was devastating and addicting.
My body shook, my eyelids heavy from the illicit pleasure. "Gideon...You make me come so hard."
His tongue rubbed over and over the clenching entrance to my body, teasing me, making me grind shamelessly into his working mouth. His hands cupped my bare butt, kneading, urging me onto his tongue as he thrust it inside me. There was reverence in the greedy way he enjoyed me, the unmistakable sense that he worshipped my body, that pleasuring it and taking pleasure from it was as vital to him as the blood in his veins.
"Yes," I hissed, feeling the orgasm building. I was buzzed by champagne and the heated scent of Gideon's skin mixed with my own arousal. My breasts strained within the increasingly too-tight confines of my strapless bra, my body trembling on the edge of a desperately needed orgasm. "I'm so close."
A movement on the far side of the room caught my eye and I froze, my gaze locking with Magdalene's. She stood just inside the door, halted midstride, staring wide-eyed and open-mouthed at the back of Gideon's moving head.
But he was either oblivious or too impassioned to care. His lips circled my clit and his cheeks hallowed. Sucking rhythmically, he massaged the hypersensitive knot with the tip of his tongue.
Everything tightened viciously, then released in a fiery burst of pleasure.
The orgasm poured through me in a scorching wave. I cried out, pumping my hips mindlessly into his mouth, lost to the primal connection between us. Gideon held me up as my knees weakened, tonguing my quivering flesh until the last tremor faded.
When I opened my eyes again, our audience of one had fled.
Standing in a rush, Gideon picked me up and carried me to the couch. He dropped me lengthwise on the cushion; then hauled my hips up to rest on the armrest, arching my spine.
I eyed him up the length of my torso. Why not just fold me over and fuck me from behind?
Then he ripped open his button-fly and pulled his big, beautiful penis out, and I didn't care how he took me just so long as he did. I whimpered as he shoved into me, my body struggling to accommodate the wonderful fullness I craved. Yanking my hips to meet his powerful thrusts, Gideon battered my tender sex with that brutally thick column of rigid flesh, his gaze dark and possessive, his breath leaving him in primitive grunts every time he hit the end of me.
A trembling moan left me, the friction of his drives stirring my never-sated need to be fucked senseless by him. Only him.
A handful of strokes and his head fell back as he gasped my name, his hips rolling to stir me into a frenzy. "Squeeze me, Eva. Squeeze my dick."
When I complied, the ragged sound he made was so erotic my sex trembled in appreciation. "Yeah, angel...just like that."
I tightened around him and he cursed. His gaze found mine, the stunning blue hazed with sexual euphoria. A convulsive shudder wracked his powerful frame, followed by an agonized sound of ecstasy. His cock jerked inside me, once, twice, and then he was coming long and hard, spurting hotly into the clutching depths of my body.
I didn't have time to climax again, but it didn't matter. I watched him with awe and pure female triumph. I could do this to him.
In the moments of orgasm, I owned him as completely as he owned me.