A few days would be good. That would mean he started carrying it around after that night we met at the bar. It would mean that he’s been thinking about me, fantasizing about me, hoping for me . . .

I toss my hair over one shoulder before pulling his pants and boxers down, ripping the packaging open, putting the condom in my mouth. Slowly, carefully, I apply it, using my lips to unroll it over his erection, using my tongue to add a little pressure, until he’s fully in my mouth . . .

He groans.

It’s almost beautiful.

“Will you take me home again, Lander?” I pull myself back up, sliding my body along his as I do. “Will you take me to your pretty parties, introduce me to your friends?”

“I don’t have friends.” His thumbs link inside the waistband of my panties, pull them down over my thighs, my calves.

“Then introduce me to your enemies.”

He drops my panties on the floor alongside his belt, my dress . . .

His hands grip my waist, controlling my movement as he lowers me onto him, filling me inch by inch. I ache to have more of him, but he holds me firm, keeping his pace deliberate.

I think about the driver. He may not be able to see, but he knows what we’re doing only a few feet away from him. What must he think of me? How will he act when he sees me again?

The whole thing is nerve-racking, illicit, intense, agonizing . . .

. . . exquisite.

I close my eyes as I feel my body opening up to him, and when he has finally filled me completely, when I have all of him, I gasp.

My clit is right up against his pelvic bone, and even the slightest movement ignites me.

But Lander pulls me up again, away from the source of my pleasure. Again I fight him, more desperately this time, craving fulfillment, but again he keeps things measured, slow.

I whimper, my body writhing in his grip. And I pull hard on his lapels as again I feel his body against my clit and moan as he slowly grinds against me, making me quiver.

It’s not a big movement. It’s small, almost delicate . . . and it’s going to make me come in less than a minute . . .

But again he denies me. My eyes fly open and silently plead with him.

“Ah, there you are, looking at me now, like you’re supposed to,” he says. “Now I can let you come.”

And with surprising strength he presses me back down onto him and I cry out as he moves against me, pulling me into him, bringing the sensation to a point where control is impossible for me.

“Will you do something for me, Bell?” he asks.

“Yes!” Although I barely hear the question, barely care what he’s asking.

“Will you let yourself truly be seen?”