the point he'd wanted to make - There was nothing between us.
Rolling his hips, he rubbed out the rest of his orgasm, emptying himself inside me, lubricating me so there would be no pain or resistance.
He released my hip and let me rock upward; let me seek the perfect pressure on my cl*t to set me off.
With his eyes still on mine, he reached behind him to claim my wrists.
One at a time, he lifted my arms over my head, restraining me.
Pinned to the mattress by his grip, his weight, and his unflagging erection, I was completely at his mercy.
He began to thrust, stroking through the trembling walls of my sex with the thickly veined length of his big cock.
Claiming me.
Possessing me.
"Crossfire," he whispered, reminding me of my safe word.
I moaned as my sex rippled in cl**ax, tightening and squeezing, milking him greedily.
"Feel that?" Gideon's tongue traced the shell of my ear, his breath gusting in humid pants.
"You've got me by the throat and the balls.
Where's the distance, angel?" For the next three hours, there was none.
* * *
The hotel manager threw open the double doors to our suite and Cary gave a long, low whistle.
"Hell yeah," he said, hustling me into the room with a hand on my elbow.
"Look at the size of this place.
You could do cartwheels in here."
He was right, but I'd have to wait until the morning to prove it.
My legs were still shaky from my induction into the Mile-High Club.
Directly in front of us was a dazzling view of the Vegas Strip at night.
The windows were floor to ceiling, wrapping around a corner that was filled with a piano.
"Why are there always pianos in high-roller suites?" Cary asked, flipping up the cover and tapping out a quick tune on the keys.
I shrugged and looked toward the manager, but she'd already moved off, her stilettos moving silently over the thick white carpet.
The suite was decorated in what I'd call fifties Hollywood chic.
The double-sided fireplace was faced with rough gray stone and decorated with a piece of art that resembled a hubcap with spacey spokes protruding from the center.
The sofas were seafoam green with wooden legs as slender as the manager's heels.
Everything had a retro vibe that was at once glamorous and inviting.
It was way too much.