It was the perceived lack of trust that bugged me, mostly because he didn't trust me with whatever secrets he was keeping, and I was dealing with that.
"Get off me."
"I'm comfortable right here."
He hitched his hips, rubbing against me.
"I'm pissed at you."
"I can tell."
He didn't stop moving.
"That won't stop you from coming."
I shoved at his hips, but he was too heavy to budge.
"I can't when I'm mad!" "Prove it."
He was way too smug, which made my anger swell.
Since I couldn't turn my head, I closed my eyes, shutting him out.
He didn't care.
He kept on flexing against me.
The clothes between us and the lack of penetration made me even more aware of the elegant fluidity of his body.
The man knew how to f**k.
Gideon didn't just shove his big dick in and out of a woman.
He worked her with it, exploiting friction, changing angles and depth of penetration.
The nuances of his skill were lost when I was writhing beneath him and focused only on the sensations he stoked in my body.
But I felt them all now.
I fought against the pleasure, but I couldn't stifle a moan.
"That's it, angel," he coaxed.
"Feel how hard I am for you? Feel what you do to me?" "Don't use sex to punish me," I complained, my heels digging into the mattress.
He stilled for a moment, and then his mouth was suckling at my throat, his body undulating as if he were f**king me through our clothes.
"I'm not mad, angel."
"Whatever.
You're pushing me around."
"And you're driving me insane.
You know what happened when I realized what you'd done?" I glared at him through slitted eyes.
"What?" "I got hard."