Chapter 2 #2
I tip my head back again. “What?”
“It’s both. I work out, but all the men in my family are built the same way.”
Oh. I muster up a smile, trying not to think about a room full of buff, burly, insanely hot men who look like Gideon. “That’s nice.”
That’s nice? Ugh, could I have said anything more stupid? I hurry ahead and unlock the front door to the building. Gideon’s there in the next second, holding it open and ushering me in.
“Move faster,” he says in a low rumble that goes right to my dick.
I do.
In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever taken the stairs this fast before, not even the time I had food poisoning and was racing home to get to the bathroom. Gideon keeps pace easily, a hot presence egging me to go faster. I skid to a stop outside my apartment door and drop my keys.
“Fuck!”
Gideon swoops down and snatches them up. “Which one?”
“Uhhhh…” I grab it, and just moments later, we’re tumbling through the door, slamming it shut, and then I’m being pushed up against it, Gideon hoisting me up with his hands on my ass and devouring me with his hot mouth.
For a second—okay, longer than that. A lot longer—I let myself get lost in the kiss. Lips, hands, hot, wet, tingly, hard… nothing else matters but grinding up against him and feeling him up through his clothes.
Clothes.
Fuck that. I want skin.
I break away from his mouth, just far enough to say, “Get your shirt off.”
“Whatever you want,” he promises, bending his head to suck my neck in a way that has my nerve endings firing and my eyes rolling back. “You too.”
“Bedroom,” I gasp with the last remnant of sanity. “Supplies.”
His head comes up and turns away from me as he looks around. I whimper and grab his face, pulling him back for another deep, wet kiss. My legs are wrapped around his hips, and his cock jerks against mine.
“Bedroom,” he says in a growly voice. “Or I do you right here against the door and fuck the consequences.”
I’m not sure how, but I can tell he doesn’t really mean that. Still, there’s no point torturing us both. “That way. Down the hall.” I wave blindly in the right direction, bracing myself to let him go long enough for us to get there.
The next thing I know, I’m moving quickly toward my bedroom. Ever been carried to bed for a good dicking? It’s H-O-T. Especially when the guy carries you without any strain. I mean, I know he’s huge and I’m not, but I’m still a full-grown adult. It shouldn’t be effortless for him, right?
Who the fuck cares?
I tumble back onto my bed, pulling him down with me—not that I have to pull hard. This is so much better. He can use his hands now, his big, hot, strong hands….
I push him back and sit up, grabbing his shirt and yanking at the buttons.
He helps, and soon both our shirts are off, then our pants and briefs, and we’re naked, rubbing against each other while our hands explore.
His skin is hot everywhere, almost too hot, and velvet smooth except for the hair on his chest. He’s ridiculously perfect all over, like something from a men’s health magazine, only pornier because of that dark body hair and hard nipples and veiny, beautiful arms. Muscles ripple in reaction to my touch, and it makes me feel incredibly powerful to know that I have this effect on him.
His dick presses against my thigh, and whoa, it’s thick—thicker than any I’ve seen before. My hole twitches at the thought of taking it, but it’s not a bad twitch. I wrap my fingers around it, and Gideon groans, the sound wrenched from his lungs.
“Please say you bottom,” he breathes, one huge hand on my left ass cheek, a long, blunt-tipped finger tracing my crease.
I shiver. “Yesss.”
That smile is back, the one that wouldn’t be out of place on the face of a ravaging marauder. I don’t know why it’s such a turn-on. “Lube?”
I force myself to move away from him and scramble through my nightstand drawer for lube and condoms. I’m on PrEP, but I don’t know what he—
“We don’t need that,” he says, tossing the condom back onto the nightstand. I guess he’s on PrEP too.
He opens the lube and squeezes some out onto his thick fingers, and I lie back and bend my knees, planting my feet flat on the mattress and spreading them wide. I don’t normally like fucking strangers face-to-face, but I really want to watch him when he finally lets go.
The first touch of those fingers to my hole comes moments later.
He’s meticulous about preparing me, stretching me gently and thoroughly.
Just taking his fingers is an effort at first—it’s been a while for me, and I may have mentioned a few dozen times that he’s big all over.
The look of concentration on his face is ridiculously endearing, and I’m just about to tell him so when he pegs my prostate and my whole body jerks.
“Ahhhh.” Oh fuck, it’s been waaaaay too long. It just does not feel the same doing that to myself. “I’m ready,” I gasp. I want him now.
He hesitates.
“Now, Gideon. Fuck me!”
His fingers withdraw, my legs are flipped over his shoulders, and ohhhhhhh…
My eyes roll back in my head and I clench my teeth.
The thick slide of him entering me is both incredible and uncomfortable.
He must be used to that reaction, though, because he waits, all the way in me but unmoving until my muscles relax and I look up at him.
He’s watching me, that resting bitch mask back in place.
“Okay?” Strain is clear in his voice.
“Amazing,” I whisper. “Go. Fuck me.”
He does. It’s hard and fast and sweaty. I can hear myself shouting, but fucked if I know what I’m saying. All that matters is Gideon in me, on me, his body under my hands, pumping into me until every muscle in my body goes tight and my brain shuts down.
I slowly ease back to full awareness with the sensation of a hot, heavy band over my stomach.
I’m lying sideways across my bed, and there’s a long, warm presence beside me—Gideon.
That’s probably his arm over me. I should be thankful that he had the presence of mind not to collapse on top of me, because as nice as it can be to be fucked into the mattress by a big, strong body, it’s less nice when that same body passes out and traps you in place.
A wicked smile teases my lips as I remember Gideon fucking me into the mattress. That man has serious skills—I wonder if he’d be up for another round?
My stomach growls, and I lift my head to look at the clock on the nightstand. Another round after we eat, maybe. I really hadn’t realized how late it was—great sex clearly makes me lose all track of time.
“What are you doing?” Gideon mutters as I begin easing out from under his arm.
“Refueling for round two,” I tell him, then wince. “Uh, first I’m going to clean up.” I’m all sticky from coming, and it’s starting to go crusty and gross.
He rolls onto his back as I get up, putting his hands behind his head and watching me.
His legs are hanging over the side of the bed in a way that should look stupid, but he’s just dead sexy instead.
“What are we eating?” he asks, and I pull my brain away from its inspection of his eight-pack and mentally assess the contents of my kitchen.
“Takeout. Unless you want to wait for me to turn limp vegetables into soup.” It wouldn’t even be real soup, just veggies boiled until they got mushy. Before I discovered the wonders of recipes, I invented my own. None of them were any good.
“Takeout it is. I’ll order it while you wash up.” He sits up, muscles rippling in a way that makes the blood rush to my head—both of them—and looks around. “Where’s my phone?”
“Uh… clothes. Floor,” I manage, then make a dash for the bathroom before I ask if I can lick his abs. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind, but there’s no way we’ll get around to eating food if we start that again.
When I come out of the bathroom after a quick wash, the bedroom is empty, but I hear Gideon’s voice from the living room. He’s on the phone when I get there, and looks up as I come in.
“Perfect timing. What’s your address?” I give it to him, and he passes it on and then ends the call. “We’re having Chinese.”
“Sounds good to me,” I say, walking past him toward the counter that separates the kitchen from the rest of the room. “Something to drink?”
“Water’s fine.”
I get him one and one for myself, and then watch as he wanders around the room while sipping. He’s put pants on but hasn’t bothered with a shirt, and it’s absolutely no hardship to just enjoy the view in silence.
“This is a nice place,” he says finally, standing by the glass slider that leads out onto my tiny balcony.
“Thanks. I, uh, couldn’t really afford it on my salary, but I had an… inheritance that helped me buy it.” Fucking hell, did I really need to say that? Talk about oversharing. The guy’s here for a fuck, not my life story.
“What is it you do?” he asks politely. “You said you were having work problems, right?”
Well, we have to fill the time while we wait for the food somehow. I sigh. “Not problems, really. More that I’m just bored and really sick of the people at my current job. I’m an admin assistant. I had an interview today for another job, and now I’ve got no idea what to do.”
He comes to lean against the counter, putting all that bronze skin nice and close.
My fingers itch to explore. “Did the interview go badly?” He’s scowling now, and while I think it’s supposed to be a sympathetic and concerned expression, it’s actually much closer to downright terrifying…
or would be, if I wasn’t overcome by lust.
“No,” I admit, “it went well. Kind of.” Weird, but not bad. “They offered me the job. But it’s… a completely different kind of working environment, and I’m not sure if I want it.”