I clenched around him, my nails digging into his shoulders, my thighs trembling. Don’t—don’t let me?—
But he did.
He knew.
His free hand slid up my stomach, pinning me down as his fingers crooked deeper, hitting that spot that made my vision whiten at the edges. My back arched, a sob tearing from my throat as the first wave crashed over me, violent and unwilling.
"Good girl," he murmured against me, his voice rough with satisfaction. "Now take another."
My thighs burned from the strain of fighting him, my muscles trembling as I tried to pull away. But Gideon’s grip was iron, his mouth relentless, and every time I jerked back, his fingers curled deeper inside me, dragging another shameful gasp from my lips.
No. No, no, no?—
His tongue swirled, slow and deliberate, like he had all the time in the world to unravel me. The sounds he made—low, rough groans of satisfaction—vibrated against my skin, sending another jolt through me. My stomach twisted. Why does that turn me on? My body was traitorous, slick and aching, my hips rolling in tiny, involuntary circles despite my brain screaming at me to stop.
I clenched my teeth, my fingers digging into his shoulders hard enough to bruise. "I hate you," I hissed, but my voice broke, my body arching into his touch before I could stop it.
Gideon only chuckled darkly, the vibration making my thighs clench. "Liar."
His fingers twisted, stretching me in a way that burned and oh God—my back bowed, a broken sound tearing from my throat. His free hand slid up my stomach, pinning me against him as his mouth worked me over, his tongue flicking in ways that made my vision blur. I hated how good it felt. Hated how my body responded, how my breath came in sharp, uneven gasps, how my hips rocked forward despite every instinct screaming at me to resist.
"Such a greedy little thing," he murmured against me, his voice rough with satisfaction. "You’re dripping for me."
I whimpered, my face burning with humiliation. This isn’t me. I don’t want this. But my body didn’t care. My thighs shook, my muscles tightening around his fingers as he curled them deeper, hitting that spot that made my vision whiten at the edges.
"Gideon—please—" The word slipped out before I could stop it, and I hated myself for it. Hated that it sounded more like begging than protest.
His groan vibrated against me, his grip tightening. "That’s it. Let me hear you."
I shook my head, my nails digging into his skin, but my body betrayed me completely. Another wave crashed over me, violent and unwilling, my back arching as a sob tore from my throat. My thighs clenched around his head, my muscles locking as pleasure ripped through me, sharp and shameful.
And the worst part?
He didn’t stop.
His mouth didn’t leave me. Didn’t give me room to breathe, to think, to remember why this was wrong. His tongue moved like he owned me—like he’d been waiting a year to taste me and now that he had, he’d never get enough.
"Fuck," he groaned against me, the vibration sending another jolt through my nerves. "You taste better than I imagined."
I tried to pull away, but his grip on my hips was iron. His fingers curled deeper, stretching me in a way that burned and oh God—my skin was on fire, a broken sound tearing from my throat.
"You’re so damn wet," he murmured, his voice rough with something dark and hungry. "I could live on this. I could fucking drown in you."
My face burned. I wanted to scream at him, to shove him away, but my body was traitorous—arching, trembling, wanting—and when his tongue did that again, slow and deliberate, my thighs clenched around his head.
"Another one," he demanded, his fingers twisting inside me. "Give me another, and I’ll let you come on my cock later."
I shook my head, my nails digging into his shoulders, but my body didn’t listen. Another wave built, sharp and relentless, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
"No—" The word broke, my voice cracking as my muscles tightened around his fingers. "I won't?—"
His chuckle vibrated against me, sending another jolt through my nerves. "We’ll see."
His mouth didn’t stop. His tongue moved in ways that made my vision blur, slow and deliberate, like he’d memorized every place I was weak. His fingers curled deeper, hitting that spot that made my hips jerk, my back arch, my breath stutter.
"I want my face dripping with you," he growled, his voice rough with obsession. "I want to taste you three days from now and still know exactly how sweet you are."
The words should’ve made me recoil. Should’ve snapped me back to sanity. Instead, my hips rolled forward, chasing the pressure, the burn, the way his fingers filled me just enough to make me ache for more.
