As he continues to make little circles around my clit with his tongue, I grab the comforter beneath me, and I’m writhing under him . . . It’s almost too much.

“Look at me, Bell. See who’s doing this to you.”

My eyes move down, and yes, I can see him, tasting me, watching me.

And when he adds his fingers to the equation, once again thrusting them inside me while his tongue continues to play, it takes only a moment for me to explode again.

He pulls away, raises himself back up so he’s hovering over me. He kisses my cheek as he tugs at my hair.

“Bellona,” he whispers, “such a beautiful warrior.”

I watch, almost in a daze, as he reaches over into his nightstand and pulls out a condom.

I take it from him, feel the aluminum wrapper between my fingers. I know what this means.

It means I’m really going to do this. I’ll never be able to say I just got swept up in the moment. This is a purposeful, willful act.

I tear open the package and take him in my hand as I slowly pull the condom over the tip of his cock, rolling it out gradually over every inch, letting my fingers slide along its length as I pull away.

There’s nothing stopping us now.

He moves on top of me again, directing my face toward his. I feel his erection pressing against me, but he doesn’t move, just hovers there, waiting, a strange glint in his eyes.

I try to reposition myself, force him inside me, but he grabs my arms and holds me against the bed as I wriggle my hips, desperate for satisfaction.

“What is it?” he asks, a teasing melody to his voice. “What do you need?”

My cheeks turn bright pink as I absorb the question, as I come to grips with the answer he requires.

“Please,” I whisper, but he just looks at me, silently demanding more. “I want,” I begin again in a voice that hovers between pleading and sighing. “I want . . . I want . . . you.” And then I raise my chin, almost defiantly, as I add, “I need you to fuck me.”

And in an instant he’s inside me, filling me, making me cry out, my arms still securely held against the bed as my hips rock against his. My body has won the battle it’s been waging against my mind, overpowering my thoughts and logic with waves of intense and illicit pleasure.

I can feel that I’m about to come again. No, my mind can’t make sense of that at all, but my body tenses, welcomes the building intensity . . .