She’s the first woman I’ve had here. I already know she’ll be the last, too. My last love. I move behind her, easing the dress off her shoulders and unclasping her bra. Everything falls to the floor. She twists in my arms but does nothing to shield herself from me.

Open. Lovely. Mine. All fucking mine. A truth I’ll honor and take joy in every day for the rest of our lives. She smiles like she reads my mind and concurs with every thought. I want to explore her breasts with my mouth, play dot to dot on every freckle, and memorize every curve. But there’s time, and tonight, I want to give her something I doubt she’s had before.

I corner her against the glass, my hand perched over her shoulder and lean in. “How do you want me? What would you like?”

Surprise alights on her face, but then her brow pinches like she doesn’t know how to answer. “Um, downstairs was nice.”

“That was me saying thank you. This is the start of us.” I edge closer and run my finger down her bare breast. “How do you want to play, Marina?”

Her mouth falls open in a giddy smile, blushing. “Truth?”

“Truth.”

Her lips curl, matching my gaze like a predator ready to pounce. She presses her naked body into my clothed one, busily undoing me. My shirt lands in the clothes heap, followed quickly by my jeans and socks. Her eyes wander over my chest, her fingers drifting like feathers across my skin.

Then, she drops to her knees, bathed in moonlight and smirking like she’s already won. She maneuvers me out of my underwear like she means to…

“Fucking hell, Marina,” I sigh as my boxer briefs fall to the floor.

“Just a taste.”

She kisses the head, sliding her tongue over it, and then slips me into her mouth, soft and slow, taking enough of me to make me groan, almost destroyed by it, especially when she reaches for my hand and gently places it against her cheek. She wants me to guide her, feel her doing this, to enjoy her fully, and to know I have her trust. In all my years, I’ve never felt anything more intimate. Or been so turned on with each tongue stroke.

I can’t take it long, and I don’t want our game to hit pause over this. Not tonight. I bring her back up to me, stroking her cheeks and pushing her hair away from her shoulders.

She smiles. “I like this game. Your turn.”

“You’re going to come again before you’re ready for me. Get on the bed.”

She obeys, shifting further onto the bed on her back. “Oh, Grady, I don’t think you could possibly make me come again,” she jokes, with a coy smirk that assures me she wants me to try.