“Wonder what you’d look like with these ankles tied up in the air,” I say, bringing her leg to my shoulder and pressing a kiss to her calf. I don’t mean it—not right now, anyway—Oliver could be home any minute, and for something like that I want to tease her, take my time until both of us are absolutely wild. But remembering last time, the suggestion is enough to do the trick, and Harlow’s eyes widen, her breath picking up.

With an arm braced near her head, I reach between our bodies, slipping my finger into her panties.

She gasps and I push in more, adding a second alongside it and moving my thumb in circles over her clit.

“Look how wet you are,” I say. “Just from taking off our clothes. I’ve barely touched you and you’re ready to come all over my hand.”

Harlow huffs out a breath, like she can’t decide if she wants to deny it or not, but still she rocks her hips, taking more of my fingers. I kiss along her ribs and up, taking a nipple between my lips, sucking until she’s wet and slippery. She gasps in a breath as I use my teeth, easy at first and then just a bit sharper.

“More,” she groans, and I move to the other, sucking, biting. I don’t want to hurt her—that’s never what this has been about—but I do want her to feel it later. Those small, lingering aches that catch her off guard. “Finn, more.”

“Roll over,” I say, and grip her hips, helping her to her stomach. Her lace panties are barely a scrap and I reach for them, slipping them down and off her body, leaving her completely, gloriously naked in front of me.

“Fuck. This ass,” I say, squeezing it, not even knowing where to look. I grip her tighter, a little rougher, rubbing my palm over her again and again to prepare her for what’s to come. “Seem to remember I had plans for it.”

Her entire body is tense, practically vibrating, every muscle poised and waiting. I move my hand over her hip and up to her lower back, dragging my short nails along the skin there. She lets out a little sound, and I can hear each of her breaths, how they’re almost even and controlled but still just the slightest bit shaky.

“Has anyone ever spanked you, Ginger Snap?”

She shakes her head against my pillow, loose strands of dark hair following the arch of her back. “Only you.”

I try not to think too much about the spark of pride I feel when she says this, and attempt to tamp down the curl of possessive heat in my stomach. “You want this?” I ask.