Gideon smiled. “And he has a fondness for Latinas. He totally approves of my choice in wives.”
“Wife,” I corrected. “Your first and last.”
“My only,” he agreed. “Hot-tempered. Hot-blooded. My one and only permanent one-night stand. I know exactly how it will be between us, and then you go and take me by surprise. You eat me alive, every time, and want more.”
I cupped his jaw in one hand and kissed him, still stroking his penis in long, leisurely pulls. “Arash stops by with a new drink for you every time he makes his way around the room. He tells you stories about what he’s seen while circling and you briefly look amused, which drives the women watching you wild. That little flash of intimacy and warmth only makes them want more.”
“And Arnoldo?” he murmured, watching me with hot dark eyes.
“He’s detached, like you. He’s wounded and wary from his broken heart, but he’s accessible. He flirts and smiles, but there’s always that sense of something unreachable about him. The women who are too intimidated by you will go for Arnoldo. He’ll make them forget you, even while he’s forgetting about them altogether.”
A ghost of a smile touched his mouth. “While I sit there stewing and brooding with a perpetual hard-on, missing you so badly I can’t have any fun at all?”
“That’s the way I’m picturing it, ace.” I sat back on his rock-hard thighs. “And the women will be envisioning themselves coming up to you and sitting on your lap like I am. They’ll want to push their hands up your shirt like this.”
I slid my palms beneath the hem of his T-shirt and pressed them against the rigid lacing of his abs. My fingers followed the grooves, tracing every muscle of his eight-pack that I could reach. “They’ll fantasize about how hard your body is beneath your clothes, how your pecs will feel when they squeeze them.”
My actions accompanied my words, my heartbeat starting to race at the feel of him beneath my hands. Gideon was so cut and strong, a powerful sexual machine. There was a primitive female drive that responded instantly to that. Craved it. He was a male worthy of mating with, an alpha in his prime. Vigorous. Potent. Eminently dangerous and untamable.
He moved and I stopped. “No, stay still,” I admonished. “You wouldn’t touch them back.”
“They wouldn’t be near me at all.” But he resumed the pose I’d put him in. A sultan of old, being worshipped by an eager harem girl.
I lifted his shirt. I pulled it up and over his head, pinning his shoulders back with the hard stretch of fabric. His head turned, his mouth latching onto my nipple and suckling, easy, gentle tugs of suction on the sensitive point. I whimpered and tried to pull away, too turned on to bear it. His teeth caught the hardened tip, trapping me.
My head bowed, my eyes riveted to the sight of his hollowing cheeks. Inside the heat of his mouth, his tongue lashed my nipple, his lean throat working as he swallowed. My core tightened and trembled, echoing the rhythmic pulls.
Reaching between us, I untied the drawstring of his waistband and pushed the elastic down enough to free him. I held him in both hands, my fingertips tracing the thick pulsing veins coursing along his brutally sexy length. He was wet at the crown, my hands gliding over the slickness of pre-ejaculate.
His mouth released me when I aligned his cock with the opening to my sex. “Take it slow, angel,” he ordered gruffly. “Work it in. I’ll be in you all night and I don’t want you sore.”
Goose bumps swept over my skin. “They wouldn’t imagine taking you slow,” I argued.
Gideon reached up with both hands, pushing the hair back from my face. “You’re not thinking of other women now, angel. It’s you you’re picturing.”
With a start, I realized he was right. The woman mounting him wasn’t one of the leggy brunettes I’d visualized eye-fucking him. That was me. I was the one stroking his cock adoringly. I was the one positioning him, lowering onto him, taking a moment to rub the wide head of his penis back and forth between the lips of my sex.
My husband groaned at the feel of me, his hips lifting slightly, pushing demandingly into the entrance of my body. He grabbed my hips, pulled me down, spreading my sex open with the flared tip of his cock.
“Oh, Gideon.” My eyelids grew heavy as I sank onto him, taking a thick inch inside me.
He lifted me slightly, until just the crown was in me, then lowered me again, making me take more. The tendons in his neck stood out in stark relief. “You don’t want me wearing a sign. You want me wearing you, your tight, little cunt squeezing my cock. You imagine yourself topping me, as I just sit back and let you have it.”
He stretched his arms out along the back of the sofa, displaying that magnificently male torso. “Or do you want me to participate?”
Wetting my dry lips, I shook my head. “No.”
I pushed up, then slid back down. Over and over. Working him deeper each time, until my buttocks sat atop his thighs. He was thick and long. I whimpered softly as he throbbed inside me.
And I didn’t have all of him yet.
Tilting my head, I kissed him, savoring the slow slide of his tongue against mine.
“They’re watching you, aren’t they?” he purred.
“Watching you. When I lift, they can catch a glimpse of you, see how large your cock really is. They want it, ache for it, but it’s mine. You’re the one watching me. You can’t take your eyes off me. For you, there’s no one else in the room.”
“But I still don’t touch you, do I?” His mouth curved wickedly when I shook my head. “I sip the cachaça casually, as if I don’t have the sexiest woman alive riding my dick in full view of everyone. I’m not bored anymore, but then, I never was. I was waiting. For you. Knowing you were there because of the hum in my blood.”
With my hands on his shoulders, I fucked him with cadenced pumps of my hips. He was delicious. The feel of his cock moving inside me. The low, dangerous rumble in his chest that betrayed how aroused he was. The sheen of sweat on his chest. The way his abs clenched when I dropped down and his cock pushed deep. I couldn’t get enough.
And the way he joined my game … how well he knew me … how much he loved me …
Gideon lost himself in sex with me, but he was always aware, his focus on me before his orgasm. He’d recognized my fantasy of exhibitionist sex before I had, and he indulged it. Always keeping me safe, never truly risking exposure but teasing me with the possibility of it. I would never share him that way, I was too possessive. And he would never share even a glimpse of me because he was too protective.
But we teased and we played. For two people for whom sex had been introduced with pain and shame, that we could find such joy and love in the act was wondrous.
“I’m so hard inside you,” he growled, flexing in my sex the way he had in my hand. “The music is loud, so no one hears the sounds I make, but you can feel them. You know you’re driving me crazy. The fact that I don’t show it turns you on as much as being watched.”
“Your control,” I gasped, speeding up the tempo.
“Because I’m topping from the bottom,” he said darkly. “You pretend to be in charge, but that’s not what you want. I know your secrets, Eva. I’ll know them all. There’s nothing you can hide from me.”
He put the pad of his thumb to his lips and ran his tongue across it in a slow, sensual lick, his eyes never leaving my face. Reaching between us, he rubbed my clit in hard, quick circles and I came with a cry, my sex milking his cock in ecstatic ripples.
He exploded into action, catching me close and rising, bearing me down to the couch on my back as he pushed off the floor with his feet, driving that final thick inch of cock inside me. Then he was fucking me with a violent, primal hunger, powering through the ripples of my climax in the race for his own.
Throwing his head back, he gasped my name and jerked inside me. He spurted hotly, groaning, his hips still thrusting as if he couldn’t stop.
Blinking, I came to, slowly aware of moonlight on the ceiling. A pillow cushioned my head and the warmth of a comforter blanketed my nude body.
I turned my head to look for Gideon, but the space beside me was empty, the covers disturbed but folded up neatly. I sat up and looked at the clock. It was almost three in the morning.