“Never. I never forget.” My eyes closed as his erection, so stiff and warm, rested heavily against the bare cheek of my ass. He was hot for it, too. Hot for me. “I called you. Wanted you.”
His lips moved over my skin, forging a scorching trail to my mouth. “Take me, then, angel,” he coaxed, his tongue touching mine with teasing licks. “Put me inside you.”
Arching my back, I reached between my legs, my hand circling his thickness. He bent his knees, lining himself up for me.
I paused, turning my head to press my cheek to his. I loved that I could have this with him … be this way with him. Circling my hips, I stroked my clit with the wide crest of his cock, making him slick with my arousal.
Gideon squeezed my swollen breasts, plumping them. “Lean into me, Eva. Push away from the glass.”
With my palm to the two-way mirror, I pushed back, my head pillowed on his shoulder. He wrapped my throat with his hand, gripped my hip, and thrust so hard into me that my feet left the floor. He held me there, suspended in his arms, filled with his cock, his groan cascading over my senses.
On the other side of the glass, the club raged on. I abandoned myself to the wickedly intense pleasure of seemingly exhibitionist sex, an illicit fantasy that always drove us wild.
I writhed, unable to bear the decadent pressure. My hand between my legs reached lower, cradled his sac. He was tight and full, so ready. And inside me … “Oh God. You’re so hard.”
“I was made to fuck you,” he whispered, sending shivers of delight through me.
“Do it.” I set both hands on the glass, beyond needy. “Do it now.”
Gideon lowered me to my feet, his hands steadying me as I bent at the waist, opening myself to him so he could slide deep. A low, keening cry escaped as he seized my hips and angled me, knowing just how to position me to make me fit him. He was too big for me, too long and thick. The stretching was intense. Delicious.
My core trembled, clenching desperately around him. He made a rough sound of pleasure, pulling out just a little before sliding back slowly. Again, then again. The wide crest of his cock massaging the bundle of nerves deep inside me that only he’d ever reached.
Fingers clawing restlessly, leaving steamy trails on the glass, I moaned. I was achingly aware of the distant throb of the music and the mass of people I saw as clearly as if they were in the room with us.
“That’s it, angel,” he said urgently. “Let me hear how much you like it.”
“Gideon.” My legs shook violently on a particularly skillful stroke, my weight supported only by the glass and his secure hold.
I was unbearably excited, greedy, feeling both the submission of my pose and the dominance of being serviced. I could do nothing but take what Gideon gave me, the rhythmic slide and retreat, the sounds of his hunger. The scrape of his jeans against my thighs told me he’d pushed them down only far enough to free his cock, a sign of impatience that thrilled me.
One of his hands left my hip, then returned to rest atop my ass. I felt the pad of his thumb, wet from his mouth, rubbing over the tight pucker of my rear.
“No,” I begged, afraid I’d lose my mind. But it wasn’t my safeword—Crossfire—and I flowered open for him, giving way under the questing pressure.
He growled as he claimed that dark place. He came over me, his other hand moving to finger my sex, to spread me and rub my pulsing clit. “Mine,” he said gruffly. “You’re mine.”
It was too much. I came with a scream, shaking violently, my hands squeaking on the glass as my sweaty palms slipped. He began pounding the ecstasy into me, his thumb in my rear an irresistible torment, his clever fingers on my clit driving me insane. One orgasm rolled into another, my sex rippling along his plunging cock.
He made a rough sound of desire and swelled inside me, chasing his climax. I gasped, “Don’t come! Not yet.”
Gideon’s tempo slowed, his breathing harsh in the darkness. “How do you want me?”