PROLOGUE
DEAR ALLIE
I’m the good girl.
You know the type. The girl asked to man the church bake sale, because I’d never skimmed from the till. The most requested house sitter in the neighborhood, because I don’t attend parties, much less throw them. I organize pen pals for the elderly, stock the shelves at the library after-hours, and every other Thursday I’m the anonymous chick running the dishwasher at the homeless shelter.
That’s me. I’m sweet, dependable, and suffer from a crippling shyness leaving me one step above an agoraphobic shut-in. Okay, maybe I’m not that bad, but it is this shyness that leads everyone to believe I’m also naïve, inexperienced, and pure as freshly fallen snow.
I guess, in some ways; I am.
What they don’t know is how my shyness melts away when hidden behind a monitor, armed with a keyboard, award-winning blog, and quick wit. Add in my filthy imagination, two years of psychology classes, hundreds of self-help books, and thousands of hours of romance novels, and I have a talent for pulling out and writing up strangers’ deepest and darkest secrets… with their permissions, of course.
Sure, I get the occasional creep, but mostly I’m inundated with stories of inexplicable passion and unbridled desires. People tell me
the stories they can’t tell their best friends, because I welcome each and every tale without judgment.
As it should be.
To help entice you to live out your own fantasies, here is one of their sexy stories, because these things happen and they could happen to you.
Who knows? You might be Dear Allie’s very next interview. Enjoy and live your life, my insatiable reader. You deserve it.
If you think you’re ready to tell me your tale, click here.
I’m bleeding… a lot.
Not enough to warrant an ER visit, but enough to make my T-shirt look like something out of a horror movie. And not the poor hapless victim either, but the villain with a random splattering of darkening red smears adorning my otherwise clean white cotton fabric. And the angry crimson scratches decorating my hands and forearms make me look like a guy who doesn’t understand the word no.
The red and white checkered tablecloth in my lap lets loose another heartbreaking wail.
“I know, man. I’m sorry. The doc will be here any minute.”
Right then the door separating us in our tiny examination room from the surgical area opens and the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen walks in wearing a white lab coat with a stethoscope slung over her neck. She has her dark brown hair up in a messy bun, high cheekbones, and a cute button nose which she wrinkles as she pushes her glasses up, her eyes down on our chart.
“I’m Dr. Stephanie. What do we have going on today?” She says without looking up, flipping the page back and forth to read what I know is very little, considering I’m the one who filled it out and I know nothing about the hellion in my lap.
Finally, she cast her eyes my way, and as our gazes’ twist and tangle and lock in place, I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut,
1 GIDEON
telltale desire evident in the small gasp escaping her parted lips.
Then her eyes roam over me, and I know the moment the blood, scratches, and tightly wrapped crybaby in my lap click for her and she turns all business.
Annoyed business, if I am to guess, because the look crossing her face says I’m an idiot.
“What happened?” She tosses her clipboard down on the exam table and walks over to me, grabbing the wildcat who is now not only wailing, but thrashing around in his cocoon of restaurant grade linen fabric.
I stand up as she places the cat on the steel table, but notice she is using the cloth to protect herself. Guess I’m not so dumb after all.
I purposely glance down at my tattered shirt and bloody arms. “Where would you like me to start?”
Hitting an intercom button, she calls for her assistant before throwing me a pointed look. “Start at the beginning.”
Before I can, a vet tech in cartoon animal print scrubs enters the room, takes one look at me and the bundle of hissing fury on the table, shakes her head, grabs the tablecloth, and walks out without speaking a word.
“Where are they going?” I blurt out, unsure why I care. After all, it’s not my cat.
“I don’t want to unwrap them in here, in case they decide to springboard off the walls and cause more damage to themselves or…” her eyes twinkle in amusement, and I realize it’s at my expense. I guess I do look a tad ridiculous. “You. So, what happened?”
I take a deep breath and lean against the wall, crossing my arms over my chest. Instantly, I’m reminded this is a bad idea when my forearm pushes against one of the nastier scratches on my pec. I hiss and drop my arms to my side. “While I was taking trash out to the dumpster in the alley, I heard this horrible sound. I can’t quite describe it, like a cross between a baby crying and a coyote screaming, so I went to investigate. I moved aside a cardboard box, and this cat jumps into my arms, all calm and loving at first. You know?”
She nods, a small smile curving the corners of her lips. A set of dimples form, and suddenly I want to make them deeper. I want to hear what this angel sounds like when she laughs.
“So, I’m standing there in the middle of the alley with this stray cat in my arms when the damn demon goes crazy, yowling and hissing and scratching me up. I don’t know what I did, but the harder I tried to get it off me, the deeper it dug in its claws. Finally, one of my employees came out to find me running up and down the alley screaming while clawsoffurybeat my ass.”
And that did it. A full smile deepens the adorable dimples on her face, and she giggles in an almost girlish manner. Instantly, I’m sweet on her. I’m thinking she’s sweet on me, too, considering her smile and eye contact, as if we aren’t in the middle of a veterinarian's office but sitting across the table of a candlelit dinner.
Her assistant reenters the room, her focus only on the doc. “Stephanie, you need to see this.”
“What?” I get antsy again, wondering what they’ve found. And again, I have to wonder why. This isn’t my cat. Hell, I barely like them apart from the alley cats who are pretty good at keeping rodents at bay. Still, I have bled for the little demon, so maybe we’re bonded now or something.
Stephanie holds up a hand, her smile gone, and follows the assistant out of the room. Before the door closes, she throws over her shoulder, “I’ll be right back.”
Ten minutes later, I’m pacing the eight by eight examination room when Stephanie comes in with a backpack and a plastic bin. “It appears you’re a brand new daddy. Where are the babies?”
“What?” I take several steps back, as any man who was just informed he was a father would do.
She gives me a patient smile. “Claws of fury is a female, and she’s recently given birth. Considering her attack on you, I’m betting there is a litter of kittens somewhere near your dumpster. How long ago did this happen?”
“Uh,” I glance at my watch. “Less than an hour.”
“Great, then I’m sure it’s not too late. Will you take me to where this happened?” She slides out of her lab coat and hangs it on a
hook next to the door.
“Okay.” I spin around and hold the door open, following her into the parking lot where my truck is parked. I open the passenger door and get her situated before running around the hood and jumping into the driver’s seat, a surge of fear and anxiety pounding at my chest. As I pull onto the roadway fifteen miles over the speed limit, I’m thankful the closest vet office is only a couple blocks from my restaurant. “You really think there are kittens?”
“There are at least a few. My partner is examining momma now, but I suspect she attacked you because you got too close to her nest.”
“Damn.” I sigh and pull into the alley behind my deli. “I didn’t hear any kittens, I swear.”
“I’m sure you didn’t.” She pats my arm before getting out of the passenger side with her backpack in hand and heads straight to the stack of crates and boxes stacked against the brick wall. “This would be an attractive spot for a stray to make her kittening nest.”
She eases each box aside, and then I hear them, hungry and scared newborn kittens crying for their mother. I peer over Stephanie’s shoulder at six tiny creatures worming against each other. Thank god it’s been warm the last couple of weeks, so I doubt freezing would’ve been their biggest hurdle, but now I’m struck with the realization that I carted off their mother and left them defenseless.
“Can you grab the plastic bin from the truck?” Stephanie says from her crouched position.
“On it.” I rush back to the truck and grab the bin, which contains a heating pad and neatly folded towels. Kneeling beside her, I’m fascinated as she carefully lifts each kitten, does a quick visual inspection, and then sets it on the towels.
“Are they okay?” I’m afraid to ask, but I have to know or the guilt will gnaw away at me tonight.
“So far, so good.” Stephanie looks back over her shoulder, a reassuring smile on her face. “Do you think we could go inside so I can take a closer look at each one?”
“Sure.” I fumble with my keys and unlock the back door to my deli, the one I’ve owned and operated for the last three years.
Holding open the door, my gaze drops to Stephanie’s curvy backside as she passes by. Good god, I love a woman with an ass.
“Where to?” She says, turning before I get my gaze up to eyelevel. Her lips quirk as she raises her brow, and I know I’m busted.
“Other side of the counter, through the kitchen to my office.” I lock the door behind me as the occasional vagrant isn’t unheard of at this time of day, which is why I usually leave any leftover food out in containers next to the dumpster versus inside of it. Not today, though. That garbage never made it outside.
When I get to my office, Stephanie is setting up her exam table. She holds up the plug for the heating pad. “Can you plug this in?”
I plug it in and then stand beside her with my hands in my pockets. I have no idea what to do with newborn kittens—newborn anything, really. Hell, I’ve never even owned a hamster or a goldfish. But I’m in awe as Stephanie works in an effortless calm. She reaches into the backpack and hands me an aluminum can. “Can you pour this into a cup and microwave it for fifteen to twenty seconds?”
Reading the can, I mutter as I walk out of the office to the kitchen, “Who knew there was such a thing as kitten formula?”
STEPHANIE
Icheck out each kitten, relieved to find them healthy and hungry. Hungry is good. Kittens who want to suckle their mother are even better. Hopefully, my partner calls shortly to tell me we have nothing more than an over-protective mother on our hands.
Gideon rushes back into the room, and although he’s yet to introduce himself, I know his name from his paperwork, as well as the business cards on the desk currently acting as my examination table.
“Now what?” He asks, sounding like an exasperated father. It’s adorable, it really is, especially from a man worrying over a stray who’d recently kicked his ass. Nothing touches my heart faster or makes my insides tingle more than a man who loves animals.
I smoother a giggle and point at the chair on the side of the desk. “Take a seat.”
He grabs the chair and pulls it next to me. “I haven’t introduced myself…”
“Gideon.” I finish for him, grinning as his rich brown eyes light up. Then I flip one of his business card over in my hand. “Is this your Authentic New York Deli?”
“It is.”
“Word is you have the best beef stick in town.” I grin when his head snaps up, his eyes narrowing.
2
“Are you messing with me?”
I glance up at the ceiling. “Maybe a little bit, but you need the distraction. And I have heard about your award-winning cheesesteak.”
“Do you want me to make you one?” Gideon lifts out of his chair. A guy who loves animals and wants to cook for me? I’ve died and gone to heaven. Make him a generous lover and I’ll marry him this weekend.
“Maybe later.” I place my palm on his forearm again, something I seem compelled to do, and coax him back into his seat.
“Let’s get the babies fed first.” I hand him a syringe equipped with a miracle nipple. Then I grab the second syringe and suck up 2cc of formula, test it against my wrist—perfect temperature—grab a kitten and stick the nipple in his mouth, thankful when he latches on. “You’ll want to hold the kitten on their belly, using your thumb and forefinger to help hold their head up. Gently lay your finger against their throat, like this—” I demonstrate with my kitten “—so you can feel them swallow the formula down. Hopefully she will latch on, but if she doesn’t, or she isn’t swallowing, we’ll switch kittens. Fortunately, this one is a hungry little piggy.”
Gideon does as I instruct, with more care and tenderness than I expect for a man his size. The kitten takes a few seconds before she latches on to the nipple, sucking greedily as he slowly depresses the syringe. But it’s the look of fascination and relief washing over his features that has me nearly swoon out of my chair.
You’ve heard a woman say her ovaries may explode? That moment when pure masculine sex appeal meshes with something so sweet and nurturing that her womanly instincts wake up and demand to be satisfied? Picture a shirtless beefcake holding a newborn. Yeah watching Gideon take on the proud new papa role, whether he realizes that is what’s happened, made my ovaries explode.
After the first two kittens drink their fill, we swap them for another two. Just as we get our respective kittens latched on, my phone rings. Without looking at who it is, I hit speaker. “Dr. Stephanie.”
“Did you find the kittens?” Paul, my partner, asks without preamble, just as I would in his position.
“We did. Six healthy and hungry babies. We’re feeding them now. How’s momma?” I glance at Gideon with his furrowed brow and clenched jaw, causing the muscle in his cheeks to flex, which I find unbelievably sexy.
“Momma’s fine. Stressed, and a bit malnourished, but otherwise as healthy as can be expected for a feral cat. I think bringing her and her babies together would be a good thing for her mental state.”
Gideon visibly sags besides me and brings his eyes up to meet mine. I give him a warm smile and a reassuring wink. “As soon as we get the last two fed, we’ll pack up and head your way. Can you ask Carrie to get a home kit prepped?”
“She’s on it.” Paul says, and I know I’m also on speaker, Carrie within ear shot to heed my request. “We’ll see you soon.”
Paul hangs up at the same time Gideon places his second kitten back onto the warming pad. Before I know it, his large hands are on either side of my face. He tilts my head back and lays a scorching closed mouth kiss full of relief and happiness and perhaps a bit of gratitude. I sit there, frozen with a kitten in one hand, an almost empty syringe of formula in the other, but I barely register either as Gideon’s mouth softens and his fingers slide into my hair.
He pulls back a fraction of an inch, close enough that I feel his breath on my lips, but far enough that we’re staring into each other’s eyes. His are hazel, with flecks of gold that are now on fire, the look within them making my insides melt even more.
“I feel like I should say sorry—” his gaze drops to my lips “—but I’m not.”
“I’m not either.” I breathe, my lips parting in an open invitation for more. Just then the kitten in my hand squirms and lets out a high-pitched meow, breaking the spell between us.
He grins and tucks a piece of stray hair behind my ear. “I guess we should finish up.”
“I guess so.” Even though my lips still tingle from his kiss, I’m disappointed as he picks up one of the last two kittens and retakes
his seat. But he’s right. Everything has a time and a place, and stress fueled adrenaline is an unpredictable bedfellow.
I swap out kittens, and ten minutes later we have six healthy babies with full bellies. “You did well for your first feeding.” I say, thinking about our kiss as much as the kittens as we pack up.
“Thanks. I couldn’t have done it without you.”
I laugh. “No, I don’t think you could’ve, but from here on out you’re a pro and will do a great job of helping momma Fury raise these kittens.”
“What?” Gideon freezes mid cleanup.
I smile. “Don’t tell me, after the way you’ve fretted over these felines, you aren’t planning to take them into your home and make sure they’re safe?”
He has that panicked look about him again, like when I told him he was a father, and I stifle the laugh threatening to come out.
“Well, it’s just… I mean, of course I want to make sure they’re okay, but I’ve never owned a cat. I’ve never owned a dog. I’ve never kept a living creature alive.”
“And?” I bite back my grin and slip my hand into his, pulling his focus to me. “Cats are easy. Since momma is in good shape, she’s going to do most of the work, but if you’d be willing to provide her and the babies a safe, warm, and dry home for the next six to eight weeks, you will make their lives a lot easier.”
He opens his mouth to protest, but I keep going with the deal of a lifetime that will not only be best for the kittens, but will give us more time together, something I’m interested in making sure happens. “I tell you what. If you’d be willing to try, I’ll come home with you to get them settled. I’ll show you how to care for momma and the babies tonight, and I’ll drop by every day to check in on them, free of charge. When they’re ready to be weaned, my office will help find them forever homes. And if you decide you don’t want to keep momma Fury, we’ll find her a foster family. Deal?”
“You’re coming home with me?”
Is it wrong I’m thrilled he’s latched on to that detail in my entire spiel?
“If that’s what you want.”
“All right. If you’re willing to be there with me, I’m willing to try.” He grins. “I guess it would kill me to not know how they’re doing.”
“I know. I saw the look on your face and knew you were falling in love before you did.”
His grin falls slightly as his eyes lock onto mine. “You did, huh?”
Suddenly, I’m not sure we’re talking about kittens, and my shirt is too tight as I feel the need to pant and he’s not even touching me.
“Come on, let’s get the happy family back together.” He hands me my backpack and grabs the bin full of kittens, taking charge for the first time since I met him almost an hour ago, and it’s sexy as hell to behold.
If you’d told me this morning that I was going to end my day as the proud new owner of a cat and her six kittens, I would’ve laughed you right out of my store. But if you’d also said I’d end my day kissing a beautiful and intelligent woman breathless in my office, I would’ve told you to seek medical attention, because that’s crazy talk.
And yet…
I live in an old, partially restored, downtown Victorian six blocks from the deli. I’ve done a majority of the work myself, which is a source of pride I rarely show off.
“Nice place.” Stephanie says as she opens the passenger door of her BMW. I meet her there and accept the crate holding a reunited cat and her kittens, aka the happy little family. Fury, the name Stephanie has given the cat, has been remarkably calm since we arrived at the vet office with her babies, instantly tending to them with a tongue bath and what Stephanie said was a coaxing lick to get them to expel their bodily fluids.
I have to say, I’m glad I don’t have to learn how to do that.
“Thanks. Come on in.”
She follows me into the house carrying a box of supplies. “The best temporary home for them would be a small confined space. Until momma feels safe, she’s going to want to squirrel away her babies to protect them. So, a spare bathroom you can avoid using
3 GIDEON
for the next few weeks would work great, someplace you don’t mind poop dropping on the floor.”
I shake my head to dislodge the vision of flying feces filling my brain. “She’s going shit everywhere, isn’t she?”
She laughs. “Not necessarily, but she’s not litter box trained yet, so there might be an accident or two. Cats are clean animals, and she will not make her babies live in filth.”
“Okay.” I lead us to the three-quarter bath off the guest room.
Stephanie steps in and glances around, a big smile and deep dimples on display. “This is perfect. We’ll set up the crate here,” she points to the space between the vanity cabinet and the toilet, “and we’ll set the litter box up in the shower. Keep the shower door open, pull the toilet paper and towels out of here, and this is a feline paradise with very little to destroy.”
I get to work, doing exactly as Stephanie says. “Where do I put the food and water?” I shake a plastic dish while glancing around at the floor.
“Let’s put that on the counter. It’s far enough away from the babies that we won’t threaten her when we come in to change it out.”
We. Wecome to change it out. Wecome to check on them. I like the words she’s using, and I’m wondering how often I’ll get to see her over the upcoming weeks. It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask when she slides the top off the crate, giving us a full view of the family within. Momma Fury looks up at us, her babies cocooned against her belly, and meows, too tired to fight.
Thank god, because I don’t think I could survive another fight. It’s then I realize I’m still wearing a blood soaked t-shirt, my cuts and scratches untended after hours of being ignored. I want to take a shower, but I don’t want Stephanie to leave, so instead I come up with a bright idea.
“Do you have someplace you need to be tonight? A boyfriend to go home to, perhaps?” I should have asked this question before I kissed her in my office, but shit happens.
“No boyfriend, and no plans tonight. I’m yours for as long as you want me.”
Damn, the woman doesn’t know what she’s offering.
Or maybe she does? She grins and shoos me out of the bathroom, closing the door behind her.
“Are you hungry? I could whip us up some dinner.”
Her grin widens “You’re going to cook for me?”
“Anything you want.” I place my hand on the small of her back and throw my other arm wide, motioning to the kitchen. A shooting pain radiates through my shoulder causing me to grimace, and I know I’ve opened a cut trying to heal closed.
Stephanie notices and steps out of my reach. “You’re in pain.”
“It’s nothing.”
“Come on. We’ve taken care of the felines, now it’s time to take care of the human.” She takes me by the hand and guides me into the living room before glancing around in confusion.
“My bedroom is upstairs, if that’s what you’re looking for.” My voice is huskier than I mean it to be, because even though I am in pain, I’m also turned on by this woman who can’t help but take charge of the situation, even when she has no idea where she is going.
Unaffected by my teasing, she leads us up the stairs, never letting go of my hand. Or maybe it’s me not letting go of her? Either way, I feel a connection with her, something I’ve never felt before. To be honest, I’ve actively avoided it until this day. For the last three years I’ve been busy building a business, restoring a house, and doing just well enough to keep my head above water on both. A relationship wasn’t part of my plan, and yet I know if given the chance, I’ll take every minute Stephanie will give me.
“Take your shirt off.” She drops my hand when we enter my bathroom.
“Are you trying to get my naked?” I joke, even as blood runs south at the thought of stripping down in front of her. I mean, let’s be honest, I’m hoping to play a grown-up version of doctor with an actual doctor. How can I not be turned on right now?
She steps forward and helps me pull the shirt over my head. I hiss when the cotton pulls free from the bloody dried scratches. Stephanie runs her fingers over my pecs, tenderly testing the flesh
around each scratch, and then walks around to face my back. She sucks her breath in. “Wow, momma Fury really kicked your ass.”
“Is it that bad?”
I see from her reflection in the mirror that she’s shaking her head in this shake-nod combo which means yes and no. “I had planned to clean you up with some hydrogen peroxide or antiseptic spray, but I’m thinking we should start with a shower.”
I’m about to joke how I won’t be able to reach my shoulder blades with the soap when she takes a step back and pulls her shirt over her head, at the same time kicking off her shoes. I’m at a loss for words as I drink in her full lacy white bra cups, a path of paw prints tattooed across her belly, between her breasts, and over her heart.
My voice cracks as I say, “Are you going to shower with me?”
She pauses with her hands behind her back, and I could kick myself for speaking and stopping her before she bares her spectacular tits to me. For the first time, I see a shimmer of doubt cross her features. “I thought I would wash your back, but if you prefer privacy…”
I turn to her, my erection crammed uncomfortably against my now too tight jeans. “If you take a shower with me, I won’t be able to stop myself from kissing you again.”
A moment of contemplation and her bra pops loose. She slides the straps down her arm before tossing it on the counter. “I’m okay with that.”
My mouth waters, my body aches, and my cock is desperate to be free, so before I can say something else stupid and risk her stopping this fantastic strip tease, I turn and fumble with the shower valve to turn the water on, all while I keep my eyes on her.
She grins again, her eyes also locked on mine, and pulls at the drawstring holding her scrub pants in place. They drop to the floor in a whisper and I groan at the silky lace white panties covering her hips, a satin sheen at the apex of her thighs.
A matching set for the workday when she had no reason to believe anyone but her would see them? Naughty girl. I’m even
more turned on that she does this for herself, because while she doesn’t need a man, she wants me.
STEPHANIE
Gideon has a great build, and while his cuts and scratches are bad, I probably could’ve cleaned him up with a handful of antiseptic soaked cotton balls—but where would be the fun in that?
The way his gaze soaks me in is almost too much. He hasn’t even touched me, and yet his eyes stroke every nerve ending, causing my nipples to pucker and my panties to be soaked. I slide my panties down, shimmying my hips in an almost nonperceptible way. But he sees it, and I’m thinking he likes it by the way his eyes darken and pupils dilate. He pops the button on his jeans and slides them down, taking his briefs with them, and threeseconds later he’s naked, his cock jutting toward me in invitation. Did I say great build? I meant magnificent.
He offers me his hand and pulls me toward him as he walks backwards into the shower. Under the warm water, our mouths fuse and tongues fight for dominance. The man kisses like a dream, and I quickly accept defeat, allowing him to control the speed and rhythm of our dance.
It’s not within me to give up control, but with Gideon I melt into a puddle of compliance. Instinctively, I trust him with my body, but more importantly, I trust him with my heart.
He guides me back a step and breaks our kiss, the heat of his body leaving mine a mild shock to the system. I open my eyes to
4
find him smiling down at me with a bar of soap in his hand. “First, you doctor me up, and then I’ll doctor you. Deal?”
I accept the soap and do a quick inspection. Dial, antibacterial, perfect. Slowly I rub the bar between my hands until I have a thick lather going, and then I run my hands over his pecs and down his arms.
“What doctoring do I need?” I ask with a hint of amusement as he turns his back to me.
“You ache between your legs and need immediate professional attention.” He grins at me over his shoulder.
I chuckle. “Oh, really? And what makes you a professional?”
Gideon turns and takes the soap out of my hand. He then lathers up his own hands and the puts the soap back in its dish. “I have an excellent track record of obtaining desired results.”
His voice drops to a husky tease and I gulp down the surprise threatening to come out in my voice. He’s grinning, but there’s a confident and predatory gleam to his eyes that sends a shiver up my spine.
“And what does your treatment plan consist of?” Despite my best effort to appear even, my voice shakes with anticipation.
He slides soapy hands over my body, starting at my hips, up the sides of my stomach, before cupping my aching breasts. I moan, my eyes fluttering shut as he rolls my nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. He steps forward and I feel the heat of his body once again close, his breath at my ear. “I’m prescribing a treatment of three orgasms in quick succession, starting with my fingers, and then my tongue, before we end up on my bed where I can sink my cock deep within your wet and wanting pussy.”
I’ve never climaxed three times in one night, much less in quick succession, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to tell him that. I see no reason to discourage him from trying, and honestly, I’m not so sure I’d bet against him. “You believe in aggressive and proactive treatment?”
He doesn’t answer me. Instead, he moves to the side and lets the water hit me, rinsing soapy suds from my skin. Once again, his mouth is on mine, his tongue pushing past my lips, taking and
teasing, and promising me so much more than one night of amazing sex. He pushes me back against the cool tile wall, a stark contrast to the steam accumulating around us. His fingers slide between my legs, prompting me to widen my stance. I suck in as his fingers make contact with my clit before sliding deep inside of me. One finger, then two; he expertly hooks his fingers forward, rubbing in an unhurried manner as his thumbs circles my clit. Within seconds I’m panting and grabbing on to him for dear life as an orgasm rips through me until my knees give out.
Gideon holds on to me, his free arm wrapped around my waist as I come back to myself and stand on my own two feet. He pulls his fingers out of me and brings them to his mouth, sucking them deep, before reaching behind him to turn off the shower. “That’s one.”
I’m speechless, unable to form simple words as my brain registers nothing more than the carnal pleasure pulsing through my veins. He grins and drapes a towel around me, quickly wrapping a second one around his waist before leading me to his king-sized bed. He lays me down and covers my body with his, kissing his way lower, starting at my lips, along my collarbone to my breasts, and then across my belly. Lifting my knee, I wantonly spread wide for him, wanting everything he has to give me, willing to give him anything he wants to take.
He chuckles against my skin before applying one long, languid lick against my folds, the tip of his tongue hard against my clit. “You ready for number two?”
I nod, digging my fingers into his hair. I’m more than ready, and primed to explode against his tongue. He lavishes my pussy with his mouth, his tongue probing my opening, his teeth grazing my clit, plumping and teasing until I’m teetering on the edge of another release.
I greedily hold his head in place as I arch my back and lift my hips, my second orgasm in as little as ten minutes ripping through me with a veracity I didn’t know I was capable of. As I lay back onto the mattress, my body a boneless bag of flesh, it hits me: I’ve barely touched Gideon since this started. Sure, I washed him, but
everything was above the waist, and I’ve yet to feel his silky hardness in my grip.
Greedy and selfish, sure, but he’s yet to complain and I will make it up to him just as soon as I can form complete sentences.
Gideon kisses his way back up my body and settles beside me, pulling my leg up over his hip. He pushes my hair, which has fallen free of its messy bun, back from my face and strokes my cheek with his thumb. “That’s two.”
I slide my hand along his bicep and down his arm until I’m touching the terry cloth towel still wrapped around his waist. I fumble for an opening and sigh when I my fingertips contact hard, heated skin. His eyes close, a low groan escaping his throat as I wrap my hand around his erection and stroke, using my thumb to tease the sensitive spot at the tip.
I hear the foil wrapped condom tear open before I see it. Gideon hands it to me and then rolls to his back, extricating himself from his towel. He takes my hand and helps me up into a seated position, my legs spread open to straddle his hips, my pussy hovering over his beautifully hard cock. “I want you to ride me, Stephanie. I want you to fuck me while you chase your third orgasm into exhaustion and show me exactly how much you love it.”
Biting my lip, I lean back and pull the condom out of the foil, making a show of tossing the wrapper over my shoulder before slowing rolling the lubricated rubber over his impressive length. Then I guide him to my entrance, teasing at first with a roll of my hips. Gideon’s eyes darken and his hands grip my hip as he dares me to tease him again.
My taunting grin morphs into a moan as I sink down on him, my pussy pulsing and adjusting and accepting him as my one perfect fit. He pulls me forward, his tongue dancing against mine as I move with a slow, measured roll of my hips, my rhythm meeting each thrust of his hips in a perfect symphony. Each time I take him deep I feel it in each nerve ending firing its response and again, within minutes, I’m ready to explode. I’m guessing Gideon is also close, his fingers digging into my hips, each thrust a little more forceful than the one before it.
