by Sylvia Day
I’d caused that. I had turned the warm, wickedly playful man who’d enchanted me all evening into the cold, murderous fighter in front of me.
“Miss Tramell.” Angus grabbed my elbow.
I looked at him desperately. “You have to stop him.”
“Please, return to the limousine.”
“What?” I looked over and saw blood dripping from Brett’s nose. No one was intervening. “Are you crazy?”
“We need to take Miss Ellison home. She’s your guest; you need to see to her.”
Brett swung and when Gideon feinted to the side, Brett rammed his other fist forward, nailing Gideon in the shoulder and sending him backward a few steps.
I grabbed Angus by the arms. “What’s the matter with you?! Stop them!”
His pale blue eyes softened. “He knows when to stop, Eva.”
“Are you shitting me?!”
He looked over my shoulder. “Mr. Ricci, if you would, please.”
The next thing I knew, I was slung over Arnoldo’s shoulder and en route to the limo. Lifting my head, I saw the circle of bystanders close in with my absence, blocking my view. I screamed my frustration and pounded at Arnoldo’s back, but it didn’t faze him. He climbed right into the back of the limo with me, and when Shawna hopped in a moment later, Angus shut the door as if everything was totally fucking normal.
“What the hell are you doing?” I snapped at Arnoldo, scrambling for the door handle as the limo rolled smoothly into motion. It wouldn’t open and no matter what I did, I couldn’t get it to unlock. “He’s your friend! You’re just going to leave him like that?”
“He’s your boyfriend.” The calm neutrality in Arnoldo’s voice cut me deep. “And you are the one who left him like that.”
I slumped back into the seat, my stomach churning and my palms damp. Gideon . . .
“You’re the Eva in the song ‘Golden,’ aren’t you?” Shawna asked quietly, from her position on the opposite bench seat.
Arnoldo started, obviously surprised by the connection. “I wonder if Gideon—” He sighed. “Of course he knows.”
“That was a long time ago!” I said defensively.
“Not long enough, apparently,” he pointed out.
Desperate to get to Gideon, I couldn’t sit still. My feet tapped, my body battling against restlessness so intense I felt like crawling out of my skin.
I’d hurt the man I loved and through him, another man who’d done nothing more than be himself. And I had no good explanation for it. Looking back, I had no idea what had come over me. Why hadn’t I pulled away sooner? Why had I kissed Brett back?
And what was Gideon going to do about it?
The thought that he might break up with me triggered overwhelming panic. I was sick with worry. Was he hurt? God . . . the thought of Gideon in pain ate at me like acid. Was he in trouble? He’d assaulted Brett. My palms went damp when I remembered Cary’s news that his clusterfuck buddy also wanted to press assault charges.
Gideon’s life was spiraling out of control—because of me. At some point he was going to realize I wasn’t worth the trouble.
I glanced at Shawna. She was looking out the window pensively. I’d blown her awesome night. And Arnoldo’s, too. “I’m sorry.” I sighed miserably. “I screwed up everything.”
She looked at me and shrugged, then offered a sympathetic smile that made my throat burn. “No big. I had a great time. I hope you work things out for the best.”
The best thing for me was Gideon. Had I blown that? Had I thrown away the most important thing in my life over some weird, inexplicable head trip?
I still felt Brett’s mouth on mine. I scrubbed at my lips, wishing I could erase the last half hour of my life as easily.
My anxiety made it feel like it took an eternity to drive Shawna home. I got out and gave her a hug on the sidewalk in front of her apartment building.
“I’m sorry,” I said again, for both earlier and then, because I was dying to get to Gideon—wherever he was—and I was afraid my impatience showed. I wasn’t sure I’d ever forgive Angus or Arnoldo for taking me away when and how they did.
Arnoldo hugged Shawna and told her that she and Doug had a standing reservation for Tableau One anytime. I softened a little toward him. He’d taken good care of her all night.
We climbed back into the limo and set off for the restaurant. I curled into a darkened corner of the seat and cried silently, unable to contain the flood of despair overwhelming me. When we arrived at the restaurant, I used my tank top to dry my face. Arnoldo stopped me from getting out.
“Be gentle with him,” he scolded, staring hard at my face. “I have never seen him the way he is with you. I can’t say you are worthy of him, but you can make him happy. I saw that myself. Do it or walk. Don’t fuck with his head.”
I couldn’t speak past the lump in my throat, so I nodded, hoping he could see in my eyes how much Gideon meant to me. Everything.
Arnoldo disappeared into the restaurant. Before Angus shut the door, I slid forward on the seat. “Where is he? I need to see him. Please.”
“He called.” Angus’s face was kind, which made me start crying again. “I’m taking you to him now.”
“Is he okay?”
“I don’t know.”
I pushed back into the seat, feeling physically ill. I barely paid attention to where we were headed, my only thought being that I needed to explain. I needed to tell Gideon that I loved him, that I’d never leave him if he’d still have me, that he was the only man I wanted, the only man who set my blood on fire.
Eventually, the car slowed and I looked out, realizing we’d returned to the amphitheater. As I peered out the window, searching for him, the door behind me opened, startling me, and I shifted around to see Gideon duck inside and settle on the opposite bench from me.
I lurched toward him. “Gideon—”
“Don’t.” His voice whipped with anger, sending me recoiling and falling on my rear. The limo set into motion, jostling me.
Crying, I watched him pour a glass of amber liquor at the bar and toss it back. I waited on the floorboards, my stomach churning with fear and grief. He refilled his glass before shutting the bar and dropping back in his seat. I wanted to ask him if Brett was okay or badly hurt. I wanted to ask how Gideon was, if he was injured or fine. But I couldn’t. I didn’t know if he would take the questions the wrong way and assume my concern for Brett meant more than it did.
His face was impassive, his eyes hard as sapphires. “What is he to you?”
I swiped at the tears streaming down my face. “A mistake.”
“Then? Or now?”
“Both.”
His lip curled in a sneer. “You always kiss your mistakes like that?”
My chest heaved as I tried to stem the need to sob. I shook my head violently.
“You want him?” he asked tightly, before taking another drink.
“No,” I whispered. “I only want you. I love you, Gideon. So much it hurts.”
His eyes closed and his head fell back. I took the opportunity to crawl closer, needing to bridge the physical distance between us, at least.
“Did you come for me when I had my fingers inside you, Eva? Or because of his goddamn song?”
Oh my God . . . How he could doubt—?
I made him doubt. I did that. “You. You’re the only one who can get to me like that. Make me forget where I am. Make it so I don’t care who’s around or what’s happening as long as you’re touching me.”
“Isn’t that what happened when he kissed you?” Gideon’s eyes opened and focused on me. “He’s had his dick in you. He’s fucked you . . . blown his load inside you.”
I cringed away from the horrible bitterness in his tone, the vicious nastiness. I knew just how he felt. How badly the mental images could sting and claw until you felt like you were going mad. In my mind, he and Corinne had fucked dozens of times while I watched in sick, jealous fury.
He straightened suddenly
, leaning forward to rub his thumb roughly across my lips. “He’s had your mouth.”
I grabbed his glass and drank what was left in it, hating the harsh taste and searing burn. I swallowed by force of will alone. My stomach roiled, protesting. The heat of the alcohol spread outward from my gut.
Gideon sagged back into the seat, his arm thrown across his face. I knew he was still seeing me kissing Brett. Knew it was eating a hole in his mind.
Dropping the glass on the floor, I surged between his legs and fumbled with his button fly.
He caught my fingers in an iron grip but kept his eyes covered with his forearm. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Come in my mouth,” I begged. “Wash it away.”
There was a long pause. He sat there, utterly still except for the heavy lift and fall of his chest.
“Please, Gideon.”
With muttered curse, he released me, his hand falling limply to his side. “Do it.”
I rushed to get to him, my pulse pounding at the thought that he might change his mind and deny me . . . that he might decide he was done with me. The only help he gave me was a momentary lift of his hips, so I could yank his jeans and boxer briefs out of the way.
Then his big, beautiful cock was in my hands. My mouth. I moaned at the taste of him, at the warmth and satiny softness of his skin, at the smell of him. I nuzzled my cheek against his groin and balls, wanting his scent all over me, marking me as his. My tongue followed the thick veins coursing the length of him, licking him up and down.
I heard his teeth grind when I sucked him with long drawing pulls, moans of apology and bliss vibrating in my throat. It broke my heart that he was so silent, my vocal lover who always talked dirty to me. Always told me what he wanted and needed . . . how good he felt when I made love to him. He was holding himself back, denying me the satisfaction of knowing I pleased him.
Pumping the thick root with my fist, I milked him, sucking on the plush crown, luring his pre-cum to the tip where I could lick it up with rapid flutters of my tongue. His thighs bunched, his breath came in fierce pants. I felt him coil tight and I went wild, double-fisting him, my mouth working so hard that my jaw ached. His spine straightened, his head lifting from the seat only to slam backward as the first thick spurt exploded in my mouth.
I whimpered, his flavor igniting my senses, making me crave more. I swallowed convulsively, my hands pulling and rubbing on his throbbing penis to lure more of his rich, creamy semen onto my tongue. His body quaked as he came for long minutes, filling my mouth until he spilled out of the sides of my lips. He made no sound, as unnaturally silent as he’d been during the fight.
I would’ve sucked him off for hours. I wanted to, but he put both hands on my shoulders and urged me away. I looked up into his heartrendingly gorgeous face, saw his eyes glittering in the semidarkness. He touched my lips with his thumb, smearing his semen over and around the swollen curves.
“Slide your tight cunt around me,” he ordered hoarsely. “I’ve got more to give you.”
Shaky and frightened by his harsh remoteness, I wriggled out of my boy shorts.
“Take it all off. Everything except the boots.”
I did as he said, my body quickening at his command. I’d do anything he wanted. I would prove to him that I was his and only his. I would atone however he needed me to so he’d know I loved him. I unzipped my skirt and pushed it off, then whipped my tank top over my head and threw it on the opposite bench. My bra followed.
When I straddled him, Gideon caught my hips and looked up at me. “Are you wet?”
“Yes.”
“It turns you on to suck my cock.”
My nipples hardened further. The blunt, crude way he talked about sex turned me on, too. “Always.”
“Why did you kiss him?”
The abrupt change in topic knocked me askew. My lower lip trembled. “I don’t know.”
He released me, reaching up and over his shoulders with both hands to grip the sides of the headrest. His biceps bulged with the pose. I was aroused by the sight, as I was by everything about him. I wanted to see his bare chest glistening with sweat, his abs tightening and flexing as he pumped his cock into me.
I licked my lips, tasting him. “Take your shirt off.”
His gaze narrowed. “This isn’t for you.”
I stilled, my heart racing in my chest. He was using sex against me. In the limo where we’d first made love, in the same position I’d first taken him . . . “You’re punishing me.”
“You’ve earned it.”
It didn’t matter that he was right. If I’d earned it, so had he.
I gripped the top of the seat back for balance and wrapped the fingers of my other hand around his cock. He was still hard, still throbbing. A muscle in his neck twitched as I stroked him in my fist, priming him. I placed the wide crest between the lips of my cleft, rubbing him back and forth, coating him with the slickness of my desire.
My gaze never left his. I watched him as I teased us both, looking for any sign of the passionate lover I adored. He wasn’t there. A furious stranger glared back at me, daring me, taunting me with his detachment.
I let the first thick inch push inside me, spreading me open. Then I slammed my hips down, crying out as he pierced me deep and stretched me almost unbearably.
“Jesus. Fuck,” he bit out, shuddering. “Goddamn it.”
His uncontrolled outburst spurred me. Digging my knees into the seat, I set my hands on either side of his and lifted, pulling off him, my trembling sex clinging tightly. I pushed back down, the glide easier now that he was wet from me. When my buttocks hit his thighs I found his muscles hard as stone, his body giving away the lie—he wasn’t indifferent.
I lifted again, slowly, making us both feel every nuance of the delicious friction. When I pushed back down, I tried to be as stoic as he was, but the sensation of fullness, the heated connection, was too exquisite to contain. I moaned, and he shifted restlessly, his hips moving in a delicious little circle before he could stop himself.
“You feel so good,” I whispered, stroking his raging cock with my eager, aching sex. Sliding up and down. “You’re all I need, Gideon. All I want. You were made for me.”
“You forgot that,” he bit out, his knuckles white from his grip on the seat back.
I wondered if he was just holding on or physically restraining himself from reaching for me. “Never. I could never forget. You’re a part of me.”
“Tell me why you kissed him.”
“I don’t know.” I rested my damp forehead against his, feeling the tears burning behind my eyes. “God, Gideon. I swear I don’t know.”
“Then shut up and make me come.”
If he’d slapped my face, it couldn’t have shocked me more. I straightened and leaned away from him. “Fuck you.”
“Now you’re getting the idea.”
Hot tears slid down my face. “Don’t treat me like a whore.”
“Eva.” His voice was low and raspy, filled with warning, but his eyes were dark and desolate. Filled with pain that matched my own. “You want to stop, you know what to say.”
Crossfire. With one word I could unmistakably, irrefutably put an end to this agony. But I couldn’t use it now. Just the fact that he brought up my safe word told me he was testing me. Pushing me. He had an agenda, and if I gave up now, I’d never know what it was.
Reaching behind me, I set my hands on his knees. I arched my back and dragged my soaked sex along the rigid length of his cock, then slammed back down. I adjusted the angle, lifted and fell again, gasping at the feel of him. Mad as hell or not, my body worshipped his. Loved the feel of him, the sense of rightness that was there despite the anger and hurt.
His breath was powering out of his lungs with every plunge of my hips. His body was hot, so hot, radiating heat like a blast furnace. I pumped my hips. Up. Down. Taking the pleasure he refused to give me. My thighs, buttocks, stomach, and core tightened with every lift, fisting him from root
to tip. They relaxed when I dropped, letting him sink deep.
I fucked him with everything I had, pounding myself onto his cock. His breath hissed out between his clenched teeth. Then he was coming hard, jetting inside me so fiercely I felt each scorching burst of semen like a separate thrust. I cried out, loving the feel of it, chasing an orgasm that would shatter me. I was wound so tightly, my body desperate for release after pleasing him twice.
But he moved, grabbing me by the waist and restraining my movements, holding himself deep as he pumped me full. I choked off a scream when I realized he was deliberately preventing me from coming.
“Tell me why, Eva,” he growled. “Why?”
“I don’t know!” I yelled, trying to grind my hips onto him, pounding his shoulders with my fists when his grip tightened.
Holding me pinned to his pelvis and filled with his cock, Gideon pushed to his feet and everything shifted. He pulled out of me, flipped me to face away from him, then bent me over the edge of the seat with my knees on the floorboard. With one hand at the small of my back, holding me down, he cupped my sex and rubbed, massaging his semen into my cleft. He spread it around, coating me with it. My hips circled, seeking that perfect bit of pressure to get me off . . .
He kept it from me. Deliberately.
The pounding in my clit and the needy clenching of my empty core was driving me mad, my body hungry for release. He pushed two fingers into me and my nails dug into the black leather seat. He finger-fucked me leisurely, sliding lazily in and out, keeping me on the edge.
“Gideon,” I sobbed, the sensitive tissues inside me rippling greedily around him. I was coated in sweat, barely able to breathe. I began to pray for the car to stop, for us to reach our destination, holding my breath in desperate anticipation of escape. But the limo never pulled over. It kept driving and driving, and I was restrained so completely that I couldn’t rise up enough to see where we were.
He folded over my back, his cock lying within the seam of my ass. “Tell me why, Eva,” he crooned in my ear. “You knew I’d be coming after you . . . that I’d find you . . .”