Chapter 10 Gideon
Gideon
It’s cold on Monday night, but I bundle up after work and meet Valencia at the Union Square Holiday Market to wait on a long line for hot chocolate. Why? Because that’s what she wants to do, and at this point, I’d swim naked in the East River if she put it on our list.
Yes, the East River, because I’m so fucking gone for this woman that I’d risk a bacterial infection to make her happy.
Luckily, all she wants tonight is overhyped cocoa, so here we are, winding our way through a warren of wooden stalls crammed into the southern end of Union Square Park, an area usually reserved for incense vendors, chess players, and protests.
There are multiple booths that sell hot chocolate, but Valencia has done her research to find the best one.
“Not the one that’s gone viral,” she says as we join the line behind a trio of teenage girls. “There are a lot that rely on gimmicks, like sprinkles, or a marshmallow on a stick. But if we want just a good-quality cup of hot chocolate, apparently this is the place.”
I adjust my scarf and nod. “I guess we’ll be the judges of that.”
The market is outdoors, but the stalls block the wind, and it’s at least a couple of degrees warmer thanks to all the people packed into such tight quarters.
I ask Valencia about her day and she’s describing some of the bureaucratic challenges her department is facing when she suddenly stops.
A slow smile spreads across her face as she peers behind me.
She grabs my arm before I can fully turn. “Shh. Listen.”
I eavesdrop on the girls ahead of us, who are engaging in a serious debate about all the hot chocolate vendors present this year. As they launch into rating each on a scale of one to ten, I lock eyes with Valencia, who’s shaking with suppressed laughter, and give her a stern look.
“We are not taste-testing every hot chocolate stand in this market.”
She taps her chin with one gloved finger. “Now that you mention it ...”
“No. It’s not on the list.” I lean down to murmur in her ear. “Besides, I have other items for you to test-drive tonight.”
She gives me a sultry smile. “Items, plural?” When I nod, she adds, “You know I already have a couple of those items , right?”
The thought of her using a vibrator on herself makes me glad my coat comes down to midthigh. “You can never have too many. Or so I’m told.”
She arches an eyebrow at me. “And who told you that?”
“My work husband.”
“Oh, my God.” She squeezes her eyes shut. “Did Rodrigo help you pick out these particular items?”
“What do you think?”
She tries to glare at me, but she’s grinning.
By the time we get our hot chocolate, the temperature has dropped even further.
We make our way to the statue of Gandhi, where there’s a small space devoid of people.
Just before we reach it, someone bumps into Valencia from behind.
She drops her cup, letting out a dismayed cry as the nine-dollar hot chocolate we waited half an hour for splatters all over her boots.
I nearly crush my own cup as I spin toward the culprit, but they’ve already disappeared into the crowd. And besides, I won’t leave Valencia, who’s standing there with a disappointed pout, gazing down at the foamy brown liquid covering her feet and steaming on the ground.
“Come here.” I slide an arm around her and lead her to the railing surrounding the statue. We reach it without further incident, but I keep her tucked against me. For warmth, for protection, hell, just for the feel of her. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, just annoyed. These gloves are too thick, so I didn’t have a good grip on it.”
“Take them off,” I say, passing her my cup. “We’ll share mine.”
It’s a testament to how upset she is that she doesn’t argue. She pulls off her gloves and lifts my cup to her mouth with both hands. After a long sip, her eyes flutter shut and her lips stretch in a satisfied smile.
“Ten out of ten,” she whispers.
My heart lurches in my chest, and all I can do is whisper, “Yeah.”
But I’m not talking about the cocoa.
When she hands the cup back to me, I take a small sip, but I’m so intent on watching her I could be drinking from a slush puddle and I wouldn’t notice.
By the time Valencia drinks the last drop, I have her wrapped in a bear hug to keep her warm. She suggests we walk to her apartment, but the wind has picked up and she’s shivering, so I hail a cab. I also suspect her feet are still sore from yesterday.
Once we’re in her bedroom, I unpack half a dozen vibrating devices from an antimicrobial bag.
“They’re clean and charged,” I tell her. “Ready to go.”
Valencia gapes at the array of sex toys on her dresser. “Um, wow.”
One is a classic wand, with a bulbous head and a strong motor.
Another has a fluttering tongue attachment.
The next is shaped like a rosebud and was advertised as a “suction” vibe.
I tried it on my palm and wasn’t sure I understood it, but the sales clerk assured me it was a bestseller.
Then there’s a bullet with a soft silicone casing, and another you can wear on your finger that thumps against the clit.
And there’s the ring, but that one’s for me.
I cup her face with both hands and wait until she’s looking at me. “Communication. You have to tell me what you like and don’t like. Got it?”
She bites her lower lip and nods.
I hold up the first toy and the lube. “Ready?”
Her eyes meet mine, heavy-lidded but clear. “Yes.”
The first we try is the fluttering one, but she says it’s got nothing on my tongue.
Two stars. We switch it out for the wand, which makes her come and gets four stars.
The rose is a big hit and brings her to orgasm almost instantly.
She gives it four and a half stars, then demands a break.
I’m still fully dressed, but she’s naked, so she throws on an oversize “Pan Pride” T-shirt and we eat leftover Chinese food while standing in her kitchen.
She makes me tell her about my shopping trip with Rodrigo, and she’s laughing on the way back to her bedroom.
There, she marches over to the dresser and holds up the vibrating cock ring.
“Put it on,” she demands. “Or do you think I didn’t notice these are all for clitoral stimulation and the only way I’m getting stuffed tonight is with your dick?”
“Shit, don’t say things like that if you still want me to be able to put it on.” I hurry to lower my pants and maneuver my semihard erection through the ring. Once it’s secured, I stroke myself to full hardness, groaning at the heightened pressure.
I hear a soft moan and look over to see a naked Valencia kneading her own breasts while she watches me. I quickly pull off my clothes and lie on my back, beckoning her to climb on. She moves eagerly, straddling my hips before wrapping her fingers around my cock. I let out a surprised grunt.
“Fuck, you’re hard.” She sounds breathy. “How do we turn this thing on?”
It takes both of us to figure it out, and we get sidetracked when Valencia takes me into her mouth, but once the ring is vibrating, she gets an excited gleam in her eye.
“This is going to be fun.”
She holds me still, sinking down, and we groan in unison as I fill her.
She’s so wet. So soft. So warm. I could stay here forever, buried in her cunt.
But that’s not on the agenda. Valencia’s inner walls clench around me and from there, it’s a full-on fuckfest. We’re both mindless with pleasure, slick with sweat.
My hands grip her round ass cheeks, using them as leverage to rock her back and forth.
Her clit grinds against the vibrating ring, and my dick strokes her inside.
Our communication has devolved to groping and grunting, with the occasional “yes” and “please” and “fuck” and “ there. ” Control shifts between us.
Valencia takes over by rising to her knees and gyrating over the tip of my dick.
Then it’s my turn, and I brace my feet on the bed, thrusting into her from below.
And, bless her commitment to rule following, because she tells me exactly how good it feels, which is why I’m prepared when she squeezes around me like a vise. I grit my teeth, holding back my own orgasm as she digs her nails into my chest and emits a loud cry.
I have never seen anything more beautiful than Valencia Torres shattering on top of my cock, but that’s not what sends me over the edge. No, what finally does it is her lips parting to reveal her tongue as it moves around the syllables of a single, silent word.
Gideon.
I yank her down to my chest, my arms locking around her as I lose it. Pleasure races in a current through my body, and I come with a shout. I might even lose consciousness for a second. But when I blink, I’m still lying down, and Valencia is still on top of me, breathing hard.
“Five stars for the vibrating cock ring,” she says hoarsely against my collarbones. “Ten out of ten, would recommend.”
“Couldn’t agree more.” My heart is trying to escape from my chest. “Fuck, you came so hard at the end, you almost pushed me out.”
“My downstairs neighbor is probably going to complain about the screaming.”
“Maybe if we give her the unused vibrators, she’ll thank us instead.”
“Gideon!” Valencia sputters out a laugh, and the corresponding spasm of her channel finally does push me out. We’re both wet and sticky, but I don’t care. I’m too busy trying to memorize the sound of my name on her tongue, the delighted smile spreading her lips.
I’m in so deep I can’t see the surface, and I don’t fucking care.
We clean up and I get dressed. She throws the T-shirt back on and walks me to the door. Before I leave, she pulls me in for a tight, friendly hug. I soak it in, then force myself to let go before I want to.
“Tomorrow night at my place, right?” I try to keep my tone light, but I also know it’ll break me if she says no.
“I’ll bring the wrapping paper.” She opens the door. “Night, Gideon.”
“Good night, Valencia.” And then I call out, “Bye, Archie!”
She’s laughing as she closes the door. Outside, I begin the walk home, grateful for the crisp night air. I need to clear my head.
Pulling out my phone, I text Rodrigo. You were right about the ring.
A reply from “Work Husband” pops up a second later. I fucking told you so!