A whimper escaped me at the thought and I scrambled to obey. Aware of how tall he was, I moved to the side of the couch and folded over the armrest, reaching behind me to pull up my skirt.
He didn’t hesitate. With a powerful thrust of his hips, he was inside me, stretching me. “Eva.”
Gasping, I clawed at the sofa cushions. He was thick and hard and so, so deep. With my stomach pressed over the curve of the couch arm, I swore I could feel him pressing outward from the inside.
Folding over me, he wrapped his arms around me and sank his teeth into the side of my neck. The primitive claiming made my sex clench around him, caressing him.
He growled and ran his lips over me, lightly abrading me with the hint of evening stubble on his jaw. “You feel so good,” he said hoarsely. “I love f**king you.”
“Gideon.”
“Give me your hands.”
Unsure of what he wanted, I slid my arms closer to my body and he circled my wrists with his fingers, pulling my hands gently around to the small of my back.
Then he was f**king me. Pounding into my sex with relentless drives, using my arms to pull me back to meet the thrusts of his hips. His heavy sac smacked against my clitoris, the rhythmic slaps spurring me toward another orgasm. He grunted on every plunge, mirroring my cries.
His race to orgasm was wildly exciting, as was his complete control of my body. I could only lie there and take it, take his lust and hunger, servicing him as he had me. The friction of his thrusts was delicious, a steady rubbing and pulling that made me crazed with desire.
I wished I could see him; see his eyes when they lost their focus and pleasure took him, his face a grimace of agonized ecstasy. I loved that I could affect him so fiercely, that my body felt so good to him, that sex with me shattered his defenses.
He shuddered and cursed. His c*ck lengthened, thickening as his balls tightened and drew up. “Eva … Christ. I love you.”
I felt the lash of his se**n inside me, pumping hot and thick. I bit my lip to stem my cry. I was so hot for him, so close.
Releasing my wrists, he wrapped me up, the fingers of one hand sliding into my cleft and rubbing my swollen clit. I came while he was still pumping, my sex milking his spurting c*ck as he emptied himself inside me. His lips were on my cheek, his breath gusting hot and moist across my skin, low rumbles spilling from his chest as he came hard and long.
We were both panting as our orgasms eased, leaning heavily on each other.
Swallowing hard, I spoke breathlessly. “I guess you like the ring.” His rough laugh filled me with joy.
FIVE minutes later, I lay wilted and sated on the couch, unable to move. Gideon sat at his desk looking pristine and perfect, radiating the health and vitality of a well-fucked male.
He went through the teleconference without a hitch in his stride, speaking mostly English, but opening and closing with conversational Japanese, his voice deep and smooth. His gaze slid over me now and again, his mouth curving in a ghost of a smile laced with undeniable masculine triumph.
I supposed he was entitled to it, considering I had so many postorgasmic endorphins floating through my system I felt almost drunk.
Gideon finished his call and stood, shrugging out of his jacket again. The gleam in his eyes told me why.
Mustering the energy to raise my brows, I asked, “We’re not leaving?”
“Of course we are. But not yet.”
“Maybe you should cut back on those vitamins, ace.”
His lips twitched as he freed the buttons of his vest. “I’ve spent too many days fantasizing about f**king you on that couch. We haven’t covered even half of those fantasies yet.”
I stretched, deliberately enticing him. “Can we still be naughty now that we’re married?”
From the spark that lit his amazing eyes, I could guess his views on that.
By the time we left the Crossfire at nearly nine o’clock, Gideon had answered the question definitively.
21
GIDEON AND I were sitting on the floor of my living room eating pizza in our sweats when Cary came in a little after ten o’clock. Tatiana was with him. I reached across Gideon for a packet of Parmesan cheese and whispered, “Baby mama.”
He winced. “She’s trouble. Poor guy.”