“It would stop whenever you want it to. No strings, no expectations, just a chance for you to feel good and get rid of some of that stress.” Callum’s words sink into my body like a drug, so soft and seductive. I arch into the phantom touch.
It isn’t enough.
If he stops, maybe I could think.
If he stops, I might die.
I’m not sure how long I teeter on the knife’s edge before something in me snaps. Whipping my head around, I find Gideon bathed in the fading light of the late afternoon sun. If I feel out of control—he looks it. Eyes wild, fists clenched at hisside, he’s staring at me like it’s taking everything he has not to reach out and grab me. His bottom lip is slightly puffy, and I imagine him nibbling on it.
Jealously churns in my gut. I want to replace his teeth with my tongue.
Like he can sense my thoughts, I watch as molten gold burns away the deep brown of his eyes. He looks half starved and three-fourths feral, and some buried instinct inside of me yearns to satiate his hunger.
Before I even make a conscious decision, I've dislodged Gideon’s throw pillow and straddled his lap. The last thing I hear before I crush my lips to his is another one of those low, possessive rumbles.
Okay... I’ve heard people describing first kisses before, saying it felt like Earth moved beneath them. I’ve always rolled my eyes because it sounds ridiculous to think two tiny beings could affect the gravitational pull of an entire planet.
Now I get it.
When my lips touch his, everything changes. Granted, I can’t tell if any tectonic plates shift, but what’s actually happening is just as scary. Instead of relief from the tension that’s been building between us, I swear I'm catching fire.
Gideon's lips are soft and utterly destructive. He kisses me with a single-minded focus, like there's nothing else he'd rather be doing. His fingers weave among the strands of my hair, tugging gently to put my head where he wants it. It's so intense I feel my whole body shaking.
“Can I stay?” Callum’s pained voice barely registers in my mind until Gideon separates our lips to answer.
“Yeah, man—take whatever you need.”
I don't have time to make sense of the exchange as Gideon's lips immediately latch on to the sensitive skin of my neck. I moan and grind down on his lap, shamelessly looking forfriction. He answers my unspoken demand, moving his hands from my hair to my waist, helping me rub against him in a rhythm that makes my body sing.
We're still fully clothed, but this is by far the sexiest thing I've ever done in my life. None of the drunken make outs from my high school years or the unsatisfying one-night stands on the run ever came close to this heat.
Maybe I’ll feel differently later, but it doesn’t scare me.
Callum said I was in control and could stop at any point, and despite myself, I believe him. Despite all my fears and best intentions, I’m starting to trust them both.
“Does he feel good?” Callum’s whisper in my ear surprises me, but I can't stop the groan that escapes in response.
“Why don't you take his shirt off?” It’s a brilliant suggestion. I yank Gideon's shirt over his head, tossing it out of the way. Now there’s nothing stopping me from sinking my fingers into the coiled muscles he's been tormenting me with every morning after his runs.
He twitches a little beneath my touch, and I smile against his mouth. Maybe I’m not the only one here who's a little ticklish. Still, I want him closer to me, not squirming away. I latch one hand onto his shoulder and bury the other in his wild curls. They are as soft as they look. I lose myself in his kiss and the rough grind of my jeans against his running shorts. It feels good, but I need more. Desperate, I turn my head back to Callum, hoping for another suggestion.
He doesn’t make me wait.
“I bet it would feel good if you took your shirt off, too,” he says.
I pause. I'm not wearing a bra. Nerves skitter along my skin at the thought of being so vulnerable. A glance at the reassuring heat in Gideon's eyes gives me a surge of bravery. Before I cansecond guess myself, I peel my shirt off. Callum assists me when it gets caught in my hair on the way over my head.
I don't have time to feel embarrassed because Gideon is looking at me like I’m Christmas morning. He reaches for me like he can’t help himself, but pauses to make eye contact. I nod, and then the space between us is gone.
His enormous hands cup my bare skin like I'm precious, like I could vanish at any second. His fingertips are callous and rough. My nipples pebble under his gentle exploration. When he rolls the tips carefully between his fingers, my pleasure spikes, passion pulling me under as I arch into his hands and gasp for breath.
I slump slightly, overwhelmed with sensation, until Callum’s hands find my waist. Somehow, he helps me find the perfect rhythm, the perfect friction, as I ride his friend on the couch. His hands never wander, but the filthy secrets he whispers in my ear stoke the bonfire burning inside me. Each word and every stroke drag me closer to the edge.
The demon explains in explicit detail all the things he wants to do to me, punctuated with detailed compliments about how perfect I am. I soak up the praise, hoping one day I’ll be brave enough to ask him to follow through on some of these promises.
When he tells me to let go, my orgasm crests, and I writhe between them, chest heaving, a wild cry escaping my mouth. Gideon swallows the sound with a hungry, open-mouthed kiss, stiffening beneath me.
He presses a kiss to my sweaty brow.
