My host swivels his head, looking around his apartment and then welds his attention back on me, wearing a half-cocked smirk so hot I could melt. By how wet I am, I’ve already started.
“I’d offer for you to stay here, but motel 8 is more extravagant.” His smile widens. “Plus, they probably have more amenities. I hear there they have a microwave in every room.”
My eyes dart to the bare counters of the kitchenette. “You don’t have a microwave?”
His expression darkens — the smile stays, but there are more shadows to it now. “No, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but my diet doesn’t really consist of many solids.”
His breath, skimming my skin with every rise and fall of his chest, reeks of whiskey. I followed him from Elise’s funeral to a bar, and a gut feeling told me that’s where I would find him three months later. There’s no doubt about it, my dark and dashing savior is a drunk.
I scan the kitchen for any signs of solid foods, but the counters are bare and something tells me the fridge and cabinets are in a similar state. “You’ve got to eat real food sometimes, right?”
He chuckles. “Sometimes. I’m afraid we’ll have to have breakfast out tomorrow, I won’t be able to serve you breakfast in bed.”
My heart thumps in my chest, hard and feverishly. He wants to have breakfast, together. I bite my lip, sliding him a sidelong glance through my screen of bangs. “I’m okay without breakfast in bed, maybe I’ll just settle for the bed.”
What am I saying? I’m never this flirtatious with anyone. I’m so out of my league yet I feel like I’m right where I’m supposed to be, and the clashing sensations are making me dizzy. I shift in my seat. The velvet sofa is so plush I fall further into the center of the couch. I’m practically in Gideon’s lap. My blush deepens when he takes this as an invitation and slides his palm slowly over my knee.
“You’re sitting on it.”
“What?” I whisper.
“There is no bedroom. It’s a studio, there wasn’t space for my bed. You’re sitting where I sleep.” He almost sounds embarrassed, but he’s looking at me with a sincerity that runs so deep, I can’t bring myself to judge him. My savior, whoever he is, is a complex man.
“I suppose a bed is whatever you make of it,” I find myself saying.
His lips part, and god do I want to kiss them. “So you’ll stay?”
I nod, eagerly. “Motel 8s are shit anyway.”
At this, Gideon’s mouth glides into that smooth as sin smile, mirthful eyes glittering in the orange glow painting the living room. “But the microwave, the cable, the free continental breakfast.”
“Eh. I’m pretty sure their rooms don’t come equipped with handsome men who’d take a bullet for me.”
Instead of laughing at my joke, Gideon’s expression darkens once again. “Is that why you’re staying, out of a sense of debt?”
“N-no! That’s not it at all. Don’t get me wrong…” I drop my line of sight to my fingers, wringing them nervously in my lap. “I’m grateful that I’m not dead. But it’s something else.”
His hand twitches slightly on my knee, as if he’s afraid to keep it there yet he doesn’t want to pull away either. Afraid that he will, I unfold my hands and rest my right palm over his.
“What is it?” His voice is low and raspy.
I lift my head to steal a glance at my host, to find him staring at me with an intensity that skates over my skin. “A dark and wondrous magic,” I say, repeating his words from earlier.
It’s that magnetic pull, forcing us together. I have no desire to fight it, and no strength should I wish to. I give in to it and find myself leaning towards this broad beast of a man who reeks of whiskey and sin and electricity.
My lips part, and my breath stills in my chest as I press my frame closer to his. To my delight, Gideon tilts forward to meet me. His free hand comes up to catch my chin, holding my head in the dip of his warm palm. A calloused thumb strokes my lip, just like before and his eyes hold mine with a devastating intensity that sinks deep into my bones. “There is something you should know about me, Sophie.”
“What is it?”
“I am destined for darkness.”
I shift in his hold, but I make no move to pull away. “Alcoholism is a disease, there is a cure.”
To my astonishment, he chuckles. “I’m not talking about the booze. I don’t need that anymore.”
“So just like that, you’re quitting?”
He gives a sure nod, eyes glittering with a magnitude that earns my trust with a single glance. “I’ve found something better.”
Those words… Something better. For some reason, they resonate with me as though they have a deeper meaning and I simply don’t have the context. Whatever it is, I believe him.
And then, he kisses me.
Chapter 9
Sophie
My savior’s body seems like it was crafted for sin, too tempting for me to resist for much longer. My skin flushes and heats under his touch as the velvety lips glide over mine, his hands coming to knot in my hair as our kiss intensifies. The more he touches me, the more I’m convinced that none of this is an accident.
Maybe Gideon was sent by the devil to lure me out of my emotional armor, to steal my heart and crush it soon after he’s claimed the rest of me. But nothing about this feels sinister. It feels wrong, sinful, delicious even. It’s like what we’re doing wouldn’t be condoned by something much bigger than ourselves. But my gut is telling me, at this moment, every thing’s as it should be.
“Gideon,” I moan into his mouth as his kiss becomes feral, and his teeth nip the bottom of my lip and gives it a less than delicate tug that leaves my skin stinging.
He unfurls a hand from my hair and reaches behind me to trail an index finger down the length of my spine. His touch is not exactly sexual but there’s an intimacy in it that’s strangely erotic. My breath hitches as his other hand knots in my hair and anchors my head back so that our lips part and my gaze is forced in front of his. He’s fucking me with his eyes; their darkness seeps inside, sinking straight into me like he can see every inch of my being, exposed and lain out for his taking. I find myself gasping for breath, even though he’s barely touched me.
“Say my name again,” he says with a guttural, animalistic growl.
“Gideon.” His name slides up my throat in a desperate sort of pitch I don’t expect.
The hand that had sensually traced my spine moments ago, turns greedy as it snakes around to my thigh and gives it a firm squeeze.
The severity that weighs on the taught line of tension, is staggering. The way the firelight wraps around his bulky silhouette, it’s like I’m about to make love to a demon who’s just emerged from the hellfires of Hades, intent on consuming me whole.
“May I touch you, Sophie?”
My breath hitches in my chest and I feel a small smile touch my lips. Maybe he isn’t a demon at all. I doubt demons ask for permission.
I nod eagerly. “Yes.”
With a smile that mirrors my own, he grips my thigh in one hand, and with the other, he leans down and sifts through my hair with his fingertips, soft and gentle like he’s getting a feel for me.
Burying his face in my neck, I shudder as his lips press against the sensitive flesh of my throat, his hot breath spilling over me.
“You smell so fucking good.”
His tongue flicks out and traces the hollow of my throat. I smother the gasp inside me as his large hand trails up and slips underneath the beltline of my jeans, venturing down to a place no man has ever ventured.
“W-what do I smell like?” I struggle to focus, hardly getting the words out as I become acutely aware of the thick fingers resting over my entrance. The only barrier between the man and my mound is a thin scrap of soaking wet fabric.
His expression glazes with thought as he contemplates putting the scent to words with all the casualness of someone who doesn’t have their hand shoved into my panties. His fingers slip down further
to find their mark. I bite my lip, brows scrunching together. A wave of pleasure washes over me as the pad of his index finger presses firmly into my clit, and rubs it with slow circular motions.
“At the moment, you smell like lust and sin.”
I blink up at him. “Lust and sin?”
It could be the pattern of the shadows that dance over his face in the weak candlelight, but deep lines seem to form on his brow in a tormented scowl. “Like something I’m not supposed to touch.”
“But I want you to touch me.” The truth of it, coming out clear and free of embarrassment, is refreshing.
“They would call you the fruit of the serpent back where I come from.”
I mull his words over in my mind, and suddenly his hesitation and his religious tattoos make sense. “You’re from a very religious place?”
He chuckles. “A very religious place.”
“Will you ever go back?” It’s a personal question, but we’ve long since passed the point of maintaining boundaries. Hell, boundaries had been crossed the moment we laid eyes on each other.
His body tightens and he leans closer to me, pressing me back against the sofa’s armrest. “Never.”
“Then why do you care what they think?”
He licks his lips, eyes glimmering with a wildness that fills me with an insatiable longing. “I don’t care.”
As if to punctuate, Gideon sinks the tip of his finger past my silkened folds. An embarrassing, desperate moan rolls from my throat. I bite my lip to strangle it, but it only escapes me with a broken and depraved melody that heats my cheeks and brings Gideon to a more erect state in the confines of his tight jeans.
A thrilling glint of hunger flashes behind his orbs of black. A growl rumbles from his chest as he begins to slide his finger in and out of me with his thumb clamped tight over my swollen clit.
“You’re so fucking tight.”
To my surprise, he withdraws from me, leaving a hollow emptiness inside. Tremulous with trepidation, I watch as he slips off from the couch and kneels on the carpet between my legs. Skillfully, he pops open the button of my jeans with a flick of his thumb and peels the fabric off my body, leaving me in my blouse and soaking panties.
He looks up at me with beseeching eyes, still on his knees like a man praying to his goddess. “I want to see all of you.”
With my heart pounding so hard I feel it in my mouth, I tug my blouse over my head in one swift movement and toss it to the floor.
Gideon’s hungry gaze scrapes over me, his attention coming to rest over my lacy bra. It’s one of those sexy numbers with no padding, and my hardened nipples peak against the thin, translucent material like their practically begging the man before me to free them from their confines. Like a good savior, Gideon obliges their unspoken desire and rips the bra from my body like it’s made of crepe paper.
He arches over me to take one of my rosy tipped nipples into his mouth, suckling at the tender bud. I moan at the overwhelming sensation, pleasure surging through my body. He chuckles against me, the sound tickling my nipple in his mouth.
“Please,” I pant.
He catches the soft pebble of flesh between his teeth and tugs. I let out another, lewd groan. “Please what?” he says through clenched jaw, teeth clamping down tighter as he speaks.
“Don’t stop…”
“Don’t stop what?” He quirks his head, lips twitching into the ghost of a smirk.
Is he teasing me? Instead of feeling embarrassed, a surge of unashamed desire wells inside me. The fact that he’s letting that broody exterior slip, puts me at ease.
“What you were doing with your hands.”
Gideon rocks back onto his heels and hooks his fingers into my panties, a shiver lurking down my spine as his nails scrape against the skin over my hips. With my wanton, pleasure laced plea, his movement become more ravenous. A large hand curves around to cup my bottom and lifts me up off the couch cushions enough to slip my pants down my legs, leaving me completely bare to him. Resting his palms on my knees, he gently presses my legs open to inspect my most private place. His gaze is heavy on my exposed mound.
“Lucifer take my fucking soul,” he breathes in a silken tone that caresses my naked skin. “You’re beautiful.”
At this, my cheeks rouge but the blush goes unnoticed as my host’s attention is fixated on my pleasure-soaked pussy. I’m surprised to hear so much conviction behind his compliment. I’m not the most slender of women, I have a few extra curves here and there, but with the way Gideon regards me, I feel like Aphrodite herself.
His eyes flick up to mine, and the rest of the world seems to fall away as he gifts me the most genuine of smiles. “I’ll please you with my hands, but I want to pleasure you with my tongue as well. I want to taste your arousal, to know the flavor of your body, and how it weeps for joy at my touch.”
I gap at him through slack jaw, riveted by his salacious words. I wonder for a moment if I should tell him I’m a virgin. With how inexperienced I am, he’ll probably figure it out. I don’t want to shatter the moment by telling him I’ve never done this before, and a part of me doesn’t want to let that piece of information slip, because I don’t want him to think I’m fragile. Gideon doesn’t strike me as a gentle lover. If he finds out I’m a virgin, he might be gentle on me.
I don’t want him to be gentle.
Gideon leans forward and presses a decadent kiss to the trimmed patch of darkened curls. He trails kisses down until his mouth is a hairsbreadth from my entrance, and I shudder as his hot breath washes over my aching heat.
In the next moment, his mouth clamps down over my sex, and his tongue swirls over my clit in strong, purposeful strokes. His hands grip my thighs, holding me in place as I writhe in ecstasy underneath him. My head lolls back on the couch cushion, my body melting in a pool of languid pleasure as his tongue lavishes and torments my most tender place.
“Gideon,” I whimper and fist a handful of his hair, holding on for dear life as he works me harder and faster with his tongue. It’s thicker and feels longer than it should. If this part of him can make me feel so filled, what will his cock feel like?
“Yeah, baby?” he snarls into my pussy, gripping me tightly as I convulse against him. He’s licking and sucking, pushing me up higher as his expert tongue dives into my entrance, stretching me open. I cry out and grip his shoulders, my nails digging into the fabric of his shirt.
“Take your shirt off,” I manage to rasp.
He breaks away from me for only a second, a second I pine for his tongue. He tears his black t-shirt over his head and my breath hitches in my chest at the sight of his bare torso, wrapped in flames like a chiseled god of the underworld. Just like his biceps, his shoulders and pecks are covered in tattoos. At the center of his chest is a cross. Pronounced muscles shift under a thin layer of sweat in the orange light of the candles. His shoulders are board, his abdominal muscles look delicious enough to lick, and his waist tapers into a narrow adonis belt wrapped in denim.
“God, you’re beautiful.”
His expression darkens. “Don’t say that name here. When I’m inside you, I am your god. It will be my name and my name alone that coats your lips when I fuck you.”
Transfixed by this sudden display of dominance, I nod, and before I know it, his tongue is inside me again, sending me spiraling. His skin is stretched taut over lean, defined muscles that I long to feel shift under my tongue and his skin glistens with a slight layer of sweat as he puts his entire upper body into pushing over the edge, into the most sinful of orgasms.
Gideon comes up for breath, his mouth and chin coated into a creamy substance. I flush as he licks his mouth, eyes wild and hungry. “Fuck, you taste so good, baby. I could lap up your cream all day.”
Baby. The pet name is strange, no one’s ever called me that before. It’s too familiar, too intimate. Yet I don’t correct him. It sounds so easy, so casual and though I’m sure he’s called many other women baby, in this moment I allow myself to f
eel like I’m the only one.
Gideon inserts the tip of his finger back inside me but this time he slowly sinks in the entire thing. “You’ve got the prettiest little mound. Shit, you’re so perfect. Someone up top in the miracle department must have gotten my name mixed up with another.”
What is he talking about? “Mixed up with another?”
Dark eyes flit up to meet my own. “You’re mine, Sophie. No one else’s, and that in itself is a miracle.”
His. Like that, he’s claimed me in all but an hour. “Do you want to fuck me, Gideon?”
He licks his lips, tasting my juices still glistening on his mouth. “I want to do more than fuck you. I’m positively ravenous for you. Without you I am empty. I didn’t even know I was starving for your love until you walked into my life with eyes that pierce, words that cut, and a cunt that would make the devil sell his soul for a taste.”
My savior’s words stir something in me that stretches deeper than the inferno of arousal he invokes. We’re sharing something far more intimate than sexual pleasure, and for the life of me I can’t figure out what it is. “Dark magic,” I whisper as another wave delight of wracks my body.
“Dark magic,” he chuckles and chases the first finger in my pussy with a second, then pushes them both inside, knuckles deep. The sultry smile dissolves from his face as if he’s suddenly discovered something shocking like buried treasure and he doesn’t dare believe it.
“Sophie…”
“W-what is it?”
“You’re…” He feels around inside me, feathering his fingertips inside a sensitive part that has me breaking from the inside. I whimper. “You’re a virgin?”
A furious blush rises, painting my chest and cheeks in the hue of shame. “I’m sorry for not telling you. I didn’t want that to change how you treat me tonight.”
“It changes everything.” His tone is a soft purr like growl bearing a different pitch that almost makes it sound like it belongs to another man entirely. “No man has ever touched you.”
I see a possessive madness raging in his midnight black eyes like a storm cloud. I can’t help but gap up at him with all the reverence of an offering, staring up at a magnificent and terrifying god just before their ultimate demise.
Claimed by my Dark Angel: A Forbidden Paranormal Romance (Saints to Sinners Book 1) Page 6