Feel how tight you are? A hot, tight, plush little heaven for my dick .
You're so f**king gorgeous .
So sexy.
I'm so damn stiff it hurts .
See what you do to me? I'm going to come so hard for you .
"Gideon."
I gasped, my fingertips massaging my cl*t in rapid circles, my h*ps grinding into my touch.
"Right there with you," he said hoarsely, his hand jacking his c*ck with brutal speed and violence in his race to orgasm.
At the first jolting contraction of my core, I cried out, my legs quaking.
My palm slapped against the glass enclosure for balance, the cl**ax stealing the strength from my muscles.
Gideon was on me in a second, gripping my hipbone in a way that conveyed greed and possession, his fingers flexing with restless agitation.
"Eva!" he growled, as the first thick, hot burst of se**n hit my belly.
"Fuck."
Hunching over me, his teeth sank into the tender spot between my shoulder and neck, a painless hold that conveyed the rawness of his pleasure.
His groans vibrated against me and he came violently, spurting repeatedly against my stomach.
* * * It was a little after six o'clock in the morning when I slipped out of my bedroom.
I'd been up for a while, watching Gideon sleep.
It was a rare treat, because I hardly ever managed to wake up before he did.
I could stare at him without any worries that he'd be weirded out.
I padded down the hallway until it emptied into the expansive open floor plan of the main living area.
It was ridiculous that Cary and I lived on the Upper West Side in an apartment large enough for a family, but I'd long ago learned to pick my battles when it came to arguing with my mother and stepfather over my safety.
There was no way they were budging on location or security features like a doorman and front desk, but I could exploit my cooperation on my living arrangements to get them to ease up on other points.
I was in the kitchen waiting for the coffee to finish brewing when Cary joined me.
He strolled in looking amazing in a pair of gray San Diego State University sweats, sleep-mussed chocolate brown hair, and a day's worth of stubble along his square jaw.
"Morning, baby girl," he murmured, pressing a kiss to my temple as he passed me.
"You're up early."
"Look who's talking."
He grabbed two mugs out of the cupboard, then the half-and-half out of the fridge.
He brought them over and studied me.
"How are you doing?" "I'm good.