‘Mmm,’ he groans around my nipple. ‘Delicious.’ His fingers dig more firmly into my hips as his licks become deep pulls on my nipple, and holy, holy shit, this feeling is ridiculously, crazily good. My hips start to jolt, rutting forwards and finding nothing but his grip. That erection of his is too far away from me at this point.

‘Stay still,’ he barks before turning his attention to my other breast. Jesus, this is so, so good. If only the man had two mouths. I want him to never come up for air. I stop rutting, keeping my body still and instead lifting my hands so I can run them through his short dark hair. Its softness is touching, for some reason. With a firm grip, I hold his head to my breast, and he chuckles, jerking his neck backwards and looking up at me, all wet lips and burning eyes.

‘Put your hands back where they are, madam, if you want the full sales pitch.’

We smirk at each other, then I sigh and release his head. I have no idea where this pitch is going, but I don’t intend to derail it.

‘That’s my good girl. Now,’—he gets to his knees surprisingly nimbly for a guy his size—‘let me show you the killer part of my pitch.’

I press my lips together as he gets level with my crotch. With a thumb hooked in each side of my thong’s lace waistband, he slides it down my legs and watches as I step out of it.

I’m now naked, and he’s planning on doing something down there, and I look down at him as I mentally step up to the highest precipice yet. And as I stare over the edge into the void, Athena’s voice rings in my ears.

Assuming he’s not a lazy bastard in bed, he should be very good at this shit. So for fuck’s sake, sit back and enjoy it.

She has a point, although enjoying something very intimate and very unfamiliar with a total stranger is easier said than done.

‘Put your leg over my shoulder, gorgeous,’ he says, hooking his hand around the back of my knee and shooting me a very sexy grin.

He looks like he does this every bloody day. Like having naked women drape their legs over his hulking great shoulders is second nature to him.

It probably is.

I balance with difficulty on one stiletto heel, fingers scrabbling against the glass, and allow Brendan to position my leg over his shoulder. His eyes are fixed squarely on where my legs are parted, his expression more that of a kid with a new toy than that of a grown man with a woman he’s paying through the nose for.