“Stop that,” he said mildly, and I did, pressing my hand against his stomach instead. His smile widened. He looked drunk, but I knew he hadn’t touched a drop tonight. I felt like I’d gone out of my mind. I was outside my body and simultaneously more connected to my physical self than I’d ever been before.
Heat snaked through my belly and tightened. Gideon shifted his leg, and I had no choice but to go up on my tiptoes. I clung to his shoulders, gasping, as most of my weight was balanced on the ridge of his thigh. It felt so good. So fucking good.
“How long has it been since you’ve been given what you need?” Gideon asked, dipping his face into the crook of myneck. I felt his breath against my collarbone, his nose tracing the line of my pulse. He inhaled like he wanted to imprint the scent of me into his lungs. “How long since a man has treated you right?”
I huffed a breathless laugh. “I’m not even sure what that means,” I admitted. My fingernails had curled into his suit jacket, one hand on his shoulder, the other pressed against his stomach. The pressure on my clit was so intense my vision went white around the edges.
“It means this, right here, baby,” Gideon answered. “It means you riding my thigh until you come. It means my face between your legs. It means you take every orgasm you need from me, every orgasm that you’ve been denied before, and youtake your hand off my cock.”
I huffed, tears leaking from the sides of my eyes, and moved my hand back up from where it had drifted down. “I want you to feel good,” I whined, leaning my head back against the wall. It sounded like a desperate whimper, and even as I said the words, tension gripped my chest like a giant’s fist. Ineededhim to feel good. Needed him to get what he needed, because otherwise…
Otherwise what?
Otherwise he’d leave. He’d get sick of me. He’d look for pleasure somewhere else. He’d toss me aside like garbage, and I’d have no choice but to come to terms with the fact that I would never be good enough.
“Hey.” Gideon squeezed my hips, then moved one hand to my jaw. His thumb pressed my chin, and I blinked until his face came into focus. He frowned at me. “You went somewhere. Stay here with me.”
“I—” The words died on my tongue. I didn’t know what this was between us. Didn’t know how to take without giving. If I didn’t give him something back, what use was I? Why would he ever want me to stay?
As if he could read my mind, the line of Gideon’s shoulders softened. His eyes flicked between mine, and his thumb moved from my chin to stroke my cheek. “Do you trust me?” he finally asked, voice soft and low.
I gulped. Opened my mouth. Closed it again. My mind reeled as I tried to figure out what he was trying to ask me, what it meant, how I should answer. In the end, all I could say was the truth. “Yes.”
His thumb stroked my cheek again. “Good,” he said. “Trust this: When I want you to touch me, I will let you know.”
This wasn’t how sex had ever gone for me. In the past, it had always been more give than take. I always had to make up for my deficiencies. Give and give and give, and only ask for a little in return. That was the only way to keep a man interested, to make up for the fact that I could never offer him what he truly wanted.
But Gideon wasn’t letting me give. He was telling me he wanted me to take. And take. And take.
I didn’t know how to do that.
He shifted his leg, and my feet fell back to the ground. I hated the loss of pressure against my core. Hated the distance between us. Even still, a sick kind of relief ghosted through me. Maybe if we stopped, I wouldn’t have to face the crashing wave, the unbearable weight of my desire for him.
But we weren’t stopping.
Gideon tangled his fingers in mine and tugged me to thenearest soft surface—one of the two couches in the living room. With a soft kiss on my lips, he lowered me down onto it, tugged my ass to the edge, then pushed my dress up so it bunched over my stomach. I felt his knuckles against my skin as he hooked his fingers into my underwear, and then the cold air kissing my damp, swollen flesh. Gideon’s hands pressed against my knees, spreading them wide. He exhaled a shaky breath, his eyes trained on the apex of my thighs.
“I’m going to eat your cunt until you scream,” he informed me.
“Oh,” I said, mind utterly blank. Then he stripped off his suit jacket and slowly, methodically, rolled up his sleeves. All the while, he kneeled on the floor between my spread knees. I felt exposed and aroused and a little ashamed. When he swept his hands up my thighs and ran his thumbs over the moisture gathered between my lower lips, a full-body shudder went through me.
Then his face was there, and he was licking. Sucking.Devouring. His fingers sank into the fleshy curves over my hips, thumbs pressing into the crook of my thighs to hold my legs wide. His shoulders pressed against my inner thighs, and that stubble scraped exactly where I’d wanted it to on our wedding night.
But it was the noises Gideon made that sent me over the edge. When he tasted me, he groaned like I was the most delicious treat he’d ever had. When I couldn’t help myself from tangling my fingers in his hair, he grunted, his whole body bowing toward me like all he wanted me to do was grab his head and use him to get myself off.
His eyes flicked up when I loosened my grip on hishair, and I could tell in an instant that he was enjoying himself. Truly enjoying himself. This wasn’t a chore that he was doing in order to get me to go down on him after. It wasn’t something he endured in order to make things “fair” between us, or to use as a bargaining chip later when he wanted to push me past my limits. This was something he wanted. His face between my legs. Me, out of my mind.
I came, unable to hold back the cry that slipped through my lips. My hand scrabbled at the edge of the sofa while my back arched off the cushions, the only thing tethering me to the earth being his hands and mouth. When the tension went out of me, Gideon pressed a kiss to my inner thigh, then straightened. He used a palm to wipe his mouth, then let out a satisfied exhale, his eyes fluttering shut as if he wanted to savor the last taste of me on his tongue.
I watched him, chest heaving with every breath, hair clinging to the back of the sofa as I reclined, twitching. The orgasm had been like a perfect appetizer. I was ready for the main course—but history had taught me that there was no main course. This was all I was going to get. I arranged my face into a pleased smile to let him know that it had been great.
Gideon opened his eyes. Met mine. Smiled like he could see right through my bullshit. “Take off your clothes,” he commanded in a quiet, sure voice. “You need another one.”
I blinked at him, confused. Gideon stood, took my hands, and hauled me to my feet. He took my face in his hands and kissed me, then with his lips moving against mine, he repeated, “Take off your clothes, Sadie.”
All of a sudden, all the desire that I’d tried to stifle came rushing to the surface. I flushed and knew mycheeks were bright red. And I took off my clothes. My dress dropped to my feet a moment before my bra landed on top of the crumpled fabric. Gideon’s hands swept over my waist, and he pulled me down on top of him so I straddled him on the couch. I was entirely naked, and he was fully clothed.
I reached for the buttons of his shirt, but Gideon stilled my hand, grimacing. “Not—not yet.”
