The Gideon Affair

“Put your hands behind your back and keep them there.” His tone was rough and demanding. She didn’t waver or balk at his command.

The play of emotions on her face as he played with her wet folds ensured this was going to be quick and probably dirty as fuck. Aggressively fingering her while she tried to stay on her feet was incredibly hot. Neither of them had the luxury of time.

When he was sure she was close to coming, he gruffly demanded she get ready to be fucked, freed his fat erection from his clothes, and pointed at it. “Get on. No hands.”

She slid forward, straddling his thighs while he held his cock in position. He pulled the hem of her skirt up with his free hand so he could watch. And then she lowered onto his throbbing staff like a goddamn prima ballerina. Once he was deep inside her and she was swooning on his lap, he closed his eyes and groaned.

Paige immediately started to rise thinking he wanted her to ride him, but he stopped her in mid-motion. “No.” When she was back in position, he told her, “Just rock back and forth. Real slow, honey. Nothing sudden. Just feel my cock filling you up. When I tell you to, I want you to squeeze me as hard as you can. Understand?”

No answer was necessary. Not while she slowly undulated and drove them both quickly to the edge. When she stopped and bowed her head, gasping for breath, he knew she was fighting the orgasm her body craved.

“Look at me, Paige. I want to watch when you come.”

“Oh, Edward,” she groaned. “Don’t make me wait.”

Pfft. As if. It was a fucking miracle he was still in control. “It’s time, baby. When you rock forward, squeeze as hard as you can. Not for long. Just tighten and release.”

She did as he asked, keeping her eyes on his as she rocked on his cock and squeezed the fucking crap out of it with her crazy muscles. He’d had enough. So had she. Reaching under her skirt, he focused on her expression as his fingers moved unerringly to the swollen bundle of nerves wet with her desire.

Seriously. He fucking loved her clit. Loved looking at it, loved stroking it, and especially loved sucking on it. Rolling the plump nub between his fingers, he set a rhythm that countered her movements. Each time she stopped squeezing then he would rub and tweak.

She came so fast and so hard that all he could do was grunt in surprise and then follow her in to a mutual climax that was completely wrong for where they were.

When she eventually climbed from his lap, he gallantly helped her step back into her panties, leering like a sex fiend knowing the white lace was going to get pretty sticky. This was the best part—almost—of having a clean bill of health and being able to fuck without a barrier. He got off on coming inside her, filling that luscious pussy with his pleasure.

There wasn’t a lot of talking after that. Mostly, she snuggled against him and sighed from time to time. No words were required.

“Oh, my god!” Paige exclaimed under her breath as the elevator took them to their mountain view suite. “Did you notice how easy our arrival and check-in was? Edward, this place is fantastic, and I don’t even like modern art.”

If it wouldn’t make her look like a fool, she would have skipped down the hallway when the elevator doors opened. The unusual approach to an urban hotel without coming off like a dilapidated relic or an über exclusive and therefore mostly inaccessible luxe establishment floated her boat in a big way. It was not enough anymore to give the people what they wanted when you could give them something they didn’t know they needed. That was how you were successful. By understanding your product or brand and keeping it fresh.

The unique approach of the Art hotel reminded her of the idea she’d been stitching together for the last year or so. Something equally as unique but on a much, much smaller scale.

In their room, she inspected every inch, each light switch, and every window. The linens, towels, bath products. Even the brand of toilet paper while Edward watched silently amused.

“Where do you want to honeymoon?” he asked.

What? Honeymoon? Oh boy, that was right. Some sort of honeymoon would be in order after they married, and it was just like him to make it all about her. She thought for a moment, considered everything and anything that would make her betrothed happy, and came up with an answer.

Paige liked their serious conversations to unfold when she could touch him, so she went and threw her arms around his neck and pushed both hands into his hair.

“Have you ever seen those private bungalows that sit on the water in Bora Bora?” She felt the interest course through his body. Bingo, sweetie.

She knew a little bit about Bora Bora. Patsy had gone last year and raved nonstop. Taking from what she remembered, a laundry list of manly-man activities rambled from her mouth.

“The idea of honeymooning in tropical French Polynesia is romantic enough but the stuff we could do? Hashtag … are you kidding? There’s snorkeling, scuba, and jet skis. Kite surfing, paddleboards, and catamarans. We could get GoPro cameras and make a home movie! You could direct. Doesn’t that sound perfect?”

While all those things were cool, she’d hit the daily double with the GoPro idea. Tell Edward he could direct, and it didn’t matter that it was a home movie; he’d be in full storyboard mode before the hour was out.

“Does this ocean getaway include bikinis?”

She laughed and hugged him. “Sure, but don’t you think you’re a little, uh, manly … for a tiny bathing suit?”

“Ha-ha,” he teased. “You know damn well I meant you, and it was a dumb question, so don’t bother with another snappy comeback. If Bora Bora it is, babe, then you have to let me choose your swimwear. You’re to pack nothing. I’ll handle it. It’ll be a bridal gift from your husband on our honeymoon.”

“You’re entirely too nice, you know. How come you’re so good to me?”

“Easy, sweetheart. I have to be because where else am I go

“Oh!” she exclaimed, dashing from his arms in search of her luggage. “Speaking of belts, check this out.”

Pawing through the smallest of her bags—she had packed for a long road trip, after all—she pulled out a contraption that vaguely resembled a belt and waved it in his face.

“What the fuck is that?”

She understood his laughter. The piece of leather wasn’t long enough to fit a man’s waist and two leather loops and what looked like ties of some kind hung from it.

“This, my darling, is a wrist restraint.” She demonstrated how it worked. “Hands go through the loops, and the ties adjust the size. Then the loops move on the leather strap, so they’re close together or arm’s length apart.”

“What’s the hole for?”

He was certainly paying close attention. “Oh, that. Well, I think what you do with that is use it as a way to add another piece, like a strap or some rope. Think, headboard with slats.”

“Oh, you mean like tied to the bed? I’m intrigued, babe. Didn’t think you’d get into something like that. Not without a shit-ton of coaxing or the bribe of a year’s supply of ice cream.”

She laughed and laughed, as the leather strap went back into her bag. “Oh, sweetie. That’s not for me, silly. It’s you who’s go

His response surprised and excited. “I’ll let you tie my hands but not to the bed. That contraption could be fun as long as you wear a blindfold.”

The possibilities were intriguing.

“Think about it. Each of us gives up a sense. I can’t touch and you can’t see. The deprivation heightens the other senses.”