I gripped his straining thighs in both hands, frantically working my lips and tongue, desperate for his cl**ax. His balls were heavy and big, an audacious display of his powerful virility. I cupped them, rolling them gently, feeling them tighten and draw up.
"Ah, Eva." His voice was a guttural rasp. His grip tightened in my hair. "You're making me come."
The first spurt of se**n was so thick, I struggled to swallow. Mindless in his pleasure, Gideon was thrusting against the back of my throat, his c**k throbbing with every wrenching pulse into my mouth. My eyes watered and my lungs burned, but still I pumped my fists, milking him. His entire body shuddered as I took everything he had. The sounds he made and the muttered, breathless praise were the most gratifying I'd ever heard.
I licked him clean, marveling at how he didn't fully soften even after an explosive orgasm. He was still capable of f**king me senseless and more than willing to, I knew. But there was no time and I was happy about that. I wanted to do this for him. For us. For me, really, because I needed to know I could indulge in a selfless sexual act without feeling taken advantage of.
"I have to go," I murmured, standing and pressing my lips to his. "I hope the rest of your day is awesome, and your business dinner tonight, too."
I started to move away, but he caught my wrist, his gaze on the clock readout on his desk phone. I noticed my picture then, sitting in a place of prominence where he'd see it all day.
"Eva...Damn it. Wait."
I frowned at his tone, which sounded anxious. Frustrated.
He quickly restored his appearance, tucking himself back into his boxer briefs and straightening the tail of his shirt so he could fasten his pants. There was something sweet in watching him pull himself back together, restoring the façade he wore for the world while I knew at least a little of the man beneath it.
Tugging me close, Gideon pressed his lips to my brow. His hands moved through my hair to unclip my tortoise barrette. "I didn't get you off."
"No need." I loved the feel of his hands on my scalp. "That rocked just the way it was."
He was overly focused on fixing my hair, his cheeks flushed from his orgasm. "I know you need an even exchange," he argued gruffly. "I can't let you leave feeling like I used you."
A bittersweet tenderness pierced me. He'd listened. He cared.
I cupped his face in my hands. "You did use me, with my permission, and it was seriously hot. I wanted to give you this, Gideon. Remember? I warned you. I wanted you to have this memory of me."
His eyes widened with alarm. "Why the f**k do I need memories when I have you? Eva, if this is about the photo - "
"Shut up and enjoy the high." We didn't have the time to get into the photo issue now and I didn't want to. It was going to ruin everything. "If we'd had an hour, I still wouldn't let you get me off. I'm not keeping score with you, ace. And honestly, you're the first guy I can say that to. Now, I have to go. You have to go."
I started away again, but he caught me back.
Scott's voice came through the speaker. "Excuse me, Mr. Cross. But your three o'clock is here."
"It's okay, Gideon," I assured him. "You're coming over tonight, right?"
"Nothing could keep me away."
I shoved up onto my tiptoes and kissed his cheek. "We'll talk then."
After work, I took the stairs down to the ground floor to feel less guilty about skipping the gym and seriously regretted it by the time I reached the lobby. Lack of sleep from the night before had left me wiped out. I was contemplating taking the subway rather than walking when I saw Gideon's Bentley at the curb. When the driver got out and greeted me by name, I halted abruptly, surprised.
"Mr. Cross asked that I take you home," he said, looking smart in his black suit and chauffeur hat. He was an older gentleman with graying red hair, pale blue eyes, and the softest of cultured accents.
As much as my legs ached, I was grateful for the offer. "Thank you...? I'm sorry - what was your name?"
"Angus, Miss Tramell."
How had I not remembered that? The name was so cool, it made me smile. "Thank you, Angus."
He tipped his hat. "My pleasure."
I slid through the back door he opened for me and as I settled into the seat, I caught a glimpse of the handgun he wore in a shoulder holster beneath his jacket. It appeared that Angus, like Clancy, was both bodyguard and driver.
We pulled away from the curb and I asked, "How long have you been working for Mr. Cross, Angus?"
"Eight years now."
"Quite a while."
"I've known him longer than that," he volunteered, catching my gaze in the rearview mirror. "I drove him to school when he was a boy. He hired me away from Mr. Vidal when the time came."
Once again, I tried to picture Gideon as a child. No doubt he'd been beautiful and charismatic even then.
Had he enjoyed "normal" sexual relationships when he was a teenager? I couldn't imagine that women weren't throwing themselves at him even then. And as innately sexual as he was, I imagined he'd been a horny teen.
Digging in my purse, I pulled out my keys and leaned forward to set them on the front passenger seat. "Can you see that Gideon gets those? He's supposed to come over after whatever it is he's doing tonight and depending on how late that is, I might not hear him knock."
"Of course."
Paul opened the door for me when we arrived at my apartment and he greeted Angus by name, reminding me that Gideon owned the building. I waved to both men, told the front desk Gideon would be coming over later, and then took myself upstairs. Cary's raised brows when he opened the door to me made me laugh.
