He groans roughly, grinding his body against me. “So slippery.”

I’m already seeing stars. I’m hovering on the cusp of coming so very soon. I whimper as he runs his fingers across me, gliding, flying. It’s so delicious, every stolen touch from my stranger.

He moves faster, making me shudder, making me moan. I drop my head to the wall, my forehead hitting under a picture frame of a man on a horse, I think. Galloping away. That’s how I feel. Like I’m racing so fast toward something beyond the frame.

Pleasure winds its way up my legs, spirals down my chest, radiates in and out. Everywhere.

He pushes a finger inside me, then another, and I moan wildly, sounding like an animal as I grind down on him, seeking more friction, seeking my release. He rubs against me, fucking me with his fingers, stroking me with his thumb.

I’m so wet, so slick, and everything feels outrageously sinful.

The wild sensations coil into an exquisite tightening in my belly. Once, twice, and I’m there. I’m racing to the edge as he strokes, grinding his body against my ass as his fingers take me all the way.

My brain is static, a wonderful white-out, a blizzard with the snow blurring everything else in the world as I come. I tingle everywhere—my skin, my lips, my legs.

I’m panting, murmuring, as he spins me around, facing him.

When I open my eyes, drunk on my orgasm, he’s licking his fingers. He looks possessed. His eyes blaze as he stares at me, sucking me off his index finger. He presses his thumb against my jaw. “You taste like dessert. Next time I want to spread you out before me and devour you, but right now I’m going to fuck you just the way you want.”

He can do anything to me. “Take me. Have me.”

He reaches into his pocket and grabs a condom. Somewhere in the back of my mind I want to ask if he just carries it around, but then, he seems like the type of man who’s prepared for anything—a joke, a dance, or a fuck in a library at a boutique hotel on the Upper East Side.

As he opens the packet, my fingers busy themselves with his zipper, sliding it down until I reach the top of his boxer briefs. When his black jeans hang low on his hips, I push down his briefs, freeing his cock.

My mouth waters as I gaze at his length, hard and heavy and so thick. I run my hand across his shaft, and he stops opening the packet, his eyes floating closed, his lips parting, a shudder moving through his body.

Power.

This feels like power.

Like something I haven’t experienced in the longest time. It’s intoxicating, and I want so much more of it—of his reaction, of the vulnerability in the set of his jaw and the parting of his lips as I stroke him, feeling how aroused he is. His skin is hot and so hard, and I’m going to take him inside me. “I want to feel all of you.”