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 crème brulée 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
ori gi nal 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.”
“Always. Bye.”
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 mockglared
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-andcrumpets
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.”
“Thank you.”
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?”
“Please do.”
“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 floorlength
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?”
“Controlling interest.”
“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.”
“Hello.”
“Where’s Gideon?”
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.
“Eva, wait.”
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 crazyassed
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
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
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 openmouthed
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.
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