My heart hums happily, and I push up onto my knees, strip off my shirt, then reach down and do the same to him. He’s so damn sexy. Mostly smooth with a scattering of the lightest blond hair. Pecs that make me desperate to touch. Little pink nipples and then those grooves of his abs that have me concerned I’ve contracted rabies with how much I’m foaming at the mouth for them.

“Oh shit …” I rasp, flooded with the kind of heady want that’s impossible to control. Each of my brain cells blinks out of commission as my gaze dips to where he’s straining at his zipper.

My hands are shaking as I pop the button and drag open the fly. His cock springs free, pale with dark, straining veins and a deep red tip, and before St. Clare can say anything, I give in to the urge to lean forward and wrap my lips around him.

The girth stretches out my jaw as I sink down onto him, tongue flicking along the underside as I taste the lusty need he has for me. Sucking cock is so new and different, and I never want to stop.

His fingers grip my hair tight. “That’s enough.”

I reluctantly pull off and make sure my expression shows my exact thoughts. “But I want more.”

“Well, you have the choice. I can come in your mouth or your ass. I can’t do both.”

“Not with that attitude,” I mutter but give in.

I stand off the bed and strip out of my pants while St. Clare pushes his down far enough to kick off. His long, muscular legs are calling for me, but before I can disappear back between them, St. Clare rolls onto his side and pats the bed beside himself.

“Lie face down. I need to get you ready for me.”

I throw myself onto the bed, and he laughs at my eagerness, but I don’t care. The promise of his fingers in me is enough, let alone that I’m going to take more. “Hurry up.”

“I’ll take all the time I need.”

Asshole. I grip the bedding in my fists, trying to stop from saying that word out loud. I need him on side here because I’m fully prepared to be fucked good and hard before we both crash out for the day.

When St. Clare climbs out of bed, I focus on breathing steadily through my nose, not wanting to complain or whine or start fucking begging or something. Patience has never been my strong suit, and after rutting against the bed a couple of times, I’m ready to give in.

Then he climbs back up behind me, and before I can tell him to hurry up again, something cold and wet slides down my crease.

I immediately tense, and it’s only when his fingers follow the lube that I’m able to relax again.