But then his hand was between my legs, massaging my wet, swollen sex, and I didn’t care how he carried me, as long as he got me someplace where he’d take me.
We reached the hallway and turned, then stopped too quickly to have reached his bedroom. I heard the doorknob turn and then the light flicked on.
We were in the bedroom that was mine. He set me down on my feet, facing him.
“Why here?” I asked. Maybe some men would head to the nearest bed, but Gideon had more control than that. If he wanted me in the second bedroom, he had a reason for it.
“Turn around,” he said quietly.
Something about his voice … the way he looked at me …
I looked over my shoulder.
And saw the swing.
IT wasn’t what I expected.
I’d looked up sex swings on the Internet when Gideon had first mentioned one. What I’d found were rickety things you hung from door frames, not-so-rickety things that hung from four-legged frames, and ones that hung from an eyebolt in the ceiling. All of them consisted of some combination of chains and/or straps that acted as slings for various body parts. Pictures of women actually harnessed in the damn things looked uncomfortable.
Honestly, I couldn’t see how anyone could get past the awkwardness and fear of collapse, let alone manage an orgasm.
I should’ve known Gideon would have something else in mind.
Turning, I faced the swing head-on. Gideon had cleared out the bedroom at some point. The bed and furnishings were gone. The only object in the room was the swing itself, suspended from a sturdy cagelike structure. A wide, solid metal platform anchored steel sides and roof, which supported the weight of a padded metal chair and chains. Red leather cuffs for wrists and ankles hung in the appropriate places.
His arms wrapped around me from behind, one hand sliding up beneath my shirt to cup my breast, while the other slid between my legs to push two fingers inside me.
Nuzzling my hair out of the way, he kissed my throat. “How do you feel, looking at that?”
I thought about it. “Intrigued. A little apprehensive.”
His lips curved against my skin. “Let’s see how you feel once you’re in it.”
A shiver of expectation and apprehension moved through me. I could see from the position of the cuffs that I would be helpless, unable to move or pull away. Unable to exert any control whatsoever over what might happen to me.
“I want to do this right, Eva. Not like that night in the elevator. I want you to feel it when I’m in control and we’re in it together.”
My head fell back against him. Somehow, it was harder giving the consent he wanted. There was less … responsibility when he just took charge.
But that was a cop-out.
“What’s your safe word, angel?” he murmured, his teeth scoring gently across my throat. His hands were magic, his fingers gliding shallowly inside me.
“Crossfire.”
“You say the word and everything stops. Say it again.”
“Crossfire.”
His dexterous fingers tugged at my nipple, milking it expertly. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. You just have to sit back and take my cock. I’m going to make you come without you having to do a thing.”
I took a deep breath. “I feel like that’s always how it is between us.”
“Try it this way,” he coaxed, his hands moving to pull my shirt off. “If you don’t like it, we’ll hit the bed instead.”
For a moment, I wanted to delay, take more time to let it all settle in. I’d promised the swing, but he wasn’t holding that over me …
“Crossfire,” he breathed, hugging me from behind.
I didn’t know if he was reminding me of my safe word or telling me he loved me so much there were no words for how he felt. Either way, the effect on me was the same. I felt safe.
I also felt his excitement. His breathing had quickened the moment I’d spotted the swing. His erection was like steel against my buttocks and his skin was hot against mine. His desire spurred my own, made me want to do whatever it took to give him as much pleasure as he could stand.