His gaze darkened at that, his strong hand kneading her breast. The way he touched her—he was like some marauding bandit claiming the gold he’d plundered, and the decisive, shameless want of it all made heat creep up her throat and desperation slick her thighs.

“That was probably for the best,” he informed her, before bending his head to suckle her again. Long, hot, slow pulls that tugged at her clit just as surely as they tugged her nipple.

Eve whined and arched her back. “I need to . . .” Her hand slid down toward the apex of her thighs—but on the way she got distracted by Jacob’s delicious body, still fully clothed but so hot and so his. She ran a hand down his side, and he looked up.

“Hard,” he said. “If you touch me, make it hard.”

She blinked before pressing firmer against him. “Like this?”

“More.”

For a moment, she wanted to hold back, but—well. He was literally asking for it. “This?” She pressed harder and sank her nails into his skin through his shirt.

He released a hiss of pleasure, his eyes drifting shut. “Yeah. Fuck.” His voice was hoarse.

“Everywhere?”

“Everywhere. Always. Can you do that for me?”

“Oh, happily.”

His grin was a quicksilver thing made crooked by arousal. “Good.”

She dragged up his shirt, raking her nails over his chest as she went, exposing him inch by inch. “Mmm. Keep licking me. Wait—can I take this off? Wait—would you lick me somewhere else?”

He laughed softly against her skin, then laved his tongue over her breast again before murmuring, “Can’t decide, Sunshine?”

“I think I just want it all.”

“Then you can have it.” He paused. “Except taking my shirt off is a bit of a mission, so we’ll just have to undo the buttons for now.”

Eve giggled, and then he rose up for a moment to let her carry out the task. She splayed the halves of his shirt open and tried not to drool at the raw power of his long, lean body while he reached for the table and produced—oh, God—her dildo. Also known as M’Baku. Not that she’d ever admit to naming it.

“So,” he said as he crawled down the bed, “you fuck yourself with this.”

Her throat felt thick as she replied, “Yes.”

“Fuck yourself, and nothing else?”

“Yes.” The word was strained and breathy this time, because he was tugging at the waistband of her leggings. Tugging them down, down, down, and when they didn’t come easy, he tugged harder with an impatience that made her moan. She rushed to aid him in the leggings removal, kicking them off and laughing when he literally threw them aside.

“And you like that?” he asked as he settled between her thighs. His face hovered right over her cotton-clad pussy, and fuck, all she wanted to do was grab him by the hair and shove his mouth against her clit, hard—but he was being focused again, which was just as good. Focused on her, focused on words, his hazy blue eyes focused on her mouth. “You like fucking yourself, and nothing else?” he repeated, the question a growl. “That makes you come?”