I roll my eyes at thesorry, and he doesn’t say anything, just smiles sheepishly before glancing around and then pulling off his shirt.
“Here,” he says, and leans forward off the couch to wipe me off gently from my throat and down my chest, and the whole time he’s got thislookon his face. When he’s done he kisses me gently, still sitting above me while he’s on the couch and clothed and I’m kneeling on the floor and topless.
“Hold on,” he says when he breaks the kiss, stands, and walks away. The floor’s hard, so I flop onto the couch myself and when he gets back, he’s got a washcloth in one hand and his dick is back inside his pants.
“Ooh, a gentleman,” I say, half-teasing, and Gideon frowns a little and huffs out a breath as he sinks his knee between my legs and braces one arm next to my head.
“Well,” he says, all frowny and pleased and embarrassed, and then he’s over me and gently wiping the last sticky traces off of my skin, his clothed thigh brushing mine. “Sorry, it’s cold.”
“I don’t mind,” I tell him, tilting my head back and letting Gideon clean me off, thorough and gentle. The cloth is warm where he touches it but I shiver as soon as he lifts it away.
“Cold?” he murmurs.
“A little.”
I slit my eyes open so I can see his face, focused and quiet in the dark, the way his eyes track along my body. Then he ducks his head and presses a white-hot kiss to the damp-cooled skin of my neck, and I shiver again. Gideon makes a little thinking noise somewhere in the back of his throat,hmm, then does it again: my collarbone, my throat, my chest. When he swipes the cool cloth over a nipple I gasp, then sigh when it’s followed by his warm mouth.
I wonder, vaguely, how much he’s done this before, a question I still haven’t asked because I don’t care beyond curiosity. There’s something a little wide-eyed and wondering about him I find… appealing.
Then his lips are on the spot above my bellybutton, his beard prickling at my skin in a way that makes me feel it all over, and he’s looking up at me with those pretty, wide eyes.
“Can I?” he asks, fingers hooked under the waistband of my leggings.
“Yes. Definitely,” I say, and lift my hips so he can pull them off along with my panties in one very nearly smooth move. I’m still wearing socks, but my feet are cold so he’s going to have to deal with that.
Once I’m naked except for socks, Gideon just—stops. He looks. He’s on his knees on the couch, settled between my legs, still in pants and no shirt, and helooks. Even though he already came it’s slow and heated, and he drags his fingertips up the inside of my left thigh, over my hip, up my torso until his hand is flat against my sternum, and he lets his gaze follow. It makes my breath catch and my breathing quicken and my pussy throb, because apart from my aborted attempt at masturbation while I was getting Gideon off, it’s been very neglected so far.
I can’t help but squirm while he looks, arching my back a little and shifting my hips. I draw my own fingertip along the top of my right thigh while I watch his face, just to see what he does.
“Jesus,” he mutters, and chases my fingers with his own, all the way to my hip.
Then he slides his hand around the top of my thigh, squeezes, leans in, and kisses me before pushing my legs apart. I’m still on the couch so that means one goes over the back, my foot against the wall, the other on the floor. Gideon’s got powerful, rough hands, his calloused fingers an odd counterpoint to the softness of his mouth and the soft scratch of his beard as he trails open-mouthed kisses up my thigh. I’m squirming under his hands, his mouth, aroused as hell and so fucking wet this couch is on its way to becoming a slip-n-slide.
Finally,finally, he strokes my entrance, dipping a fingertip inside, and I exhale on what might be a whimper.
“Fuck, Andi,” he says, so low I can feel his voice more than I can actually hear it, and slides his slick fingers upward to circle… a random spot to the right of my clit.
“Left,” I tell him, and it comes out a hoarse whisper. He moves his fingers and it’s still not quite right, even as his mouth is on my inner thigh, doing something that almost hurts but feels incredible.
I clear my throat.
“Try, uh,” I start, and he moves again, the thick pads of his fingers sliding over me.
“There?”
“Almost? Just sort of—” I say, then reach down and simply move his hand to where it needs to be. He moves his fingers and my whole-body jolts, pleasure fuzzing into my brain. “Yeah, there,” I manage, and spread my legs a little wider.
It works for about twenty seconds, and then his hand drifts again, and before I can even say anything he huffs like he’s annoyed.
“Hold on,” he says, andstands, and what the hell, I’m trying to get off here. “I can’t see anything, I’ll be right back.”
He disappears into the next room, leaving me naked and spread-eagled on the couch. I can hear him rummaging around, muttering to himself, as I wonder what he could possibly be looking for.
Maybe condoms? Maybe he brought just-in-case condoms, on the off-chance that he came upon a horny woman chained to a tree? Which, if he did, he should start playing the lottery. Also, I wasn’t horny while I was chained to the tree. That came later.
The rummaging intensifies, and now I’m kind of cold, so I half-roll off the couch just enough to grab the sweater—his—that we pulled off earlier. It’s sort of soft and sort of rough, and when I put it on with nothing underneath I can really feel it on every inch of my skin and especially my nipples, and—yeah. This was a good idea.
When Gideon comes back I’m lazily stroking my clit with one hand while I rub the sweater over a nipple with the other, and he immediately trips over something on the floor.
