Chapter 5 #2
By dessert, we’re both laughing and stuffed. He tells me about a client who wanted a koi pond on the fourth floor. I tell him about a previous student who turned in a paper written entirely by AI. We laugh, we flirt, and when the check comes, he doesn’t even look at the total.
Outside, the night air is cool and soft against my skin. He holds the door open for me like he always does, but there’s that look again—the one that’s half hunger, half patience.
The drive to his place feels shorter than it should. His building’s all clean lines and glass. Inside, the elevator ride is quiet except for the way my pulse picks up when he shifts closer.
He unlocks the door, letting me in first. The apartment smells like peppermint and something faintly lemony, the kind of scent that lingers on expensive furniture and expensive men.
“Drink?” he asks, shrugging off his jacket.
I shake my head. “I’ve had enough.”
He nods, crosses the room, and sets two glasses on the counter, anyway. When he turns back, his eyes drag down my dress like he’s remembering every inch.
“You've been quiet since we left the restaurant,” he says.
“Just thinking.”
“About what?”
“How good you look when you’re trying to be patient.”
That earns me a laugh. “You really want to test that theory?”
I take a step closer. “Maybe.”
He closes the distance. His hand finds my jaw, his thumb brushing the corner of my mouth. “You know what happens when you push, Little Menace.”
“I usually get what I want.”
He smiles. “Not tonight.”
The kiss starts slow, but it doesn’t stay that way. His mouth moves like he’s claiming space, like every exhale is a reminder of who I am with him. His hands trace the curve of my back, find the tie of my wrap dress, and pull until the fabric sighs apart.
I let him. That’s the deal. Here, I don’t have to think or plan. Here, I get to let go.
The couch catches me when he pushes me back onto it, the leather cool against my skin. He kisses down my neck, leaving warmth in his wake. When I arch, he laughs quietly; the sound brushes my ear.
“Still trying to be in charge?” he murmurs.
“Maybe a little.”
He shakes his head, smiling against my collarbone. “You never learn.”
He trails a hand along my spine, slow and deliberate, fingertips grazing the base of my neck before tracing lower. My skin heats under his touch. When I look up, he’s watching me, eyes dark, patient, that steady kind of hunger that never needs to rush.
“Bedroom,” he says quietly, not as a question but a command wrapped in silk.
I nod. My heels click against the hardwood as we move through the apartment. The city glows through the wide glass windows, reflections of us caught in the dark panes. His hand finds mine halfway down the hall, our fingers tangling for a moment before he pulls me into the room.
The sheets are crisp and pale in the low light. He kisses me again before pushing me gently onto the bed, following me down until his weight anchors me. His shirt is half undone by the time I get my hands on him, the rest sliding off with a shrug.
He wastes no time wrapping his lips around the stiff peak of my nipple while his large hand pinches and pulls at the other. I arch into his mouth, a moan leaving my lips at the feel of his warm tongue.
His mouth moves down my body, kissing my sternum, navel, the top of my mound, and finally his lips press against my seam. He flattens his tongue and laps from my hole to clit in one firm movement.
“Gideon...” I breathe, which earns me a chuckle against my pussy before he dives in, his tongue moving between my folds, eating me like a man starved.
Right as I’m on the brink of my orgasm, he stops and I slap the mattress, pissed off. “What the fuck is with the men I’m seeing denying me my right to come?”
“Ohhh…your other guy likes to tease you too, huh? What fun we could have together if you let us meet.”
“You’ll never meet then. You’d torture me to death,” I shoot back.
“Mmmm, but what a death it would be, Little Menace. Now, get on all fours so I can see that ass as I fuck you.”
I roll my eyes but get on my hands and knees, waving my ass at him like a red flag to a bull. A sharp sting has me yelping, and pain blooms on my right ass cheek.
“Don’t be a brat, Penelope, or I’ll make you my little fucktoy and you’ll not get to come.”
“Yes, Sir.”
He drags his tip through my folds, teasing my ass and pussy until I swear I’m about to slam back on him my damn self and whatever hole he lands in is gonna be good.
Finally, he presses his cock against my dripping entrance and slams inside of me. I cry out, but not in pain, in pure desire and happiness that I finally got what I want. He doesn’t let up once he’s inside me. Gideon pistons in and out of me.
“Fuck, Little Menace. I swear I forget how good this pussy is, and then it’s like sinking into heaven every time.”
“Yes. Fuck. Yes. Shit,” I pant as he fucks me.
His hands grab my hips pulling me back fast and rough onto his dick, his pelvis making a loud smacking sound against my ass every time he drives forward.
“I’m gonna come,” I gasp just as I fall over the edge of pleasure. My vision goes black momentarily as stars fill my eyes, and I scream his name, my body shaking as I ride out my release.
“Goddamn,” he growls before his hips still and I feel rope after rope of his hot seed coating my insides.
That’s the best part for me. I swear I might have a breeding kink like Silas but I don’t wanna get pregnant, not yet anyway.
So maybe it’s just a cum kink, but shit do I like how it feels inside me, on me, and don’t even get me started on the taste.
It’s my filthy little secret and I like it that way.
He doesn’t move right away, and neither do I. We just breathe together, skin damp and tangled. Eventually, he eases back, pressing a kiss to my shoulder before slipping away. I listen to the soft pad of his steps, the sound of the faucet, the rustle of a towel.
When he comes back, there’s that look again—the one that always catches me off guard, somewhere between care and control. He cleans me up with the same care I imagine he uses when he handles a contract: efficient, deliberate, gentle.
“Better?” he asks.
“Yeah.” My voice sounds small. I hate that it does.
He leans down, presses a kiss to my temple. “Stay.”
I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t. But the bed is warm, his hand is heavy against my hip, and sleep comes faster than I mean to let it.
When I wake, the light is gray and thin. He’s still asleep, one arm thrown across the pillow where my head used to be. I slip out of bed, find my dress, shoes, purse. My hair’s a mess, my lipstick long gone.
The city outside is half-awake when I step onto the street. My heels click against the pavement, echoing too loud in the early quiet. I pull my coat tighter and open my phone.
The Uber app glows blue in the morning haze.
It feels like a walk of shame, but it isn’t shame that I feel.
When the car pulls up, I slide inside, sink against the seat, and watch the city blur by.