Lowering herself to her knees as she took down his jeans and boxer briefs, she held her breath as his hard cock appeared, the tip wet with pre-cum. Some things weren’t meant to be resisted. She licked and teased the head, sucking him into her mouth and relishing the resulting moan of appreciation. Then she took him deeper, teasing him with her tongue and sucking him hard as he rocked his hips in perfect rhythm with her mouth. It was so good how he filled her mouth. Even though she’d already come, her body was revving up for more, her core aching and desperate for Ian—only Ian.

Giving him one last lick, she looked up at him. “I need you inside me.”

Eyes dark with desire, he sat down on the kitchen chair. “I’m here for whatever you want.”

Best. Answer. Ever.

She swiped a condom from her purse and rolled it on his hard cock. Then, unable to wait any longer, beyond desperate for him, she braced her hands on his shoulders and lowered herself, taking him in completely in one long, torturously amazing stroke. He filled her, giving her exactly what she needed. He always did.

Ian wasn’t hers, not the way she wanted him to be, but she couldn’t deny him. Being with him was beyond dangerous, but she couldn’t stop and didn’t want to. She rocked against him on the downward thrust as her nails dug into his shoulders.

“That’s it, Shelby,” he said, his hands on her hips, lifting her and bringing her back down on him hard. “Take what you want.”

It was all the encouragement she needed. She rocked against him, lifting herself up and down on his thick cock, losing herself in Ian. The closer she got to the edge, the more her body buzzed with an impending orgasm, the more she knew she wasn’t lost. She’d finally found herself—not in him but with him.

She loved him.

Up and down, she undulated her hips, grinding against him on each downward stroke. Hard and fast, bordering on desperate, their bodies crashed together until she tossed her head back and came, groaning his name. He grasped her hips hard, moving her against him until he thrust upward one last time and came.

She collapsed against him, wrapping her arms around him as they sat in the chair, both breathing hard. Her clothes littered the floor from the front door to the table. His jeans were still on, just shoved all the way down to his ankles. The mail she’d brought in this morning and left on the table was scattered across the kitchen. Marv swam quick circles around his bowl on the counter, obviously in betta fish attack mode by the disturbance.

Ian Petrov had thrown her well-ordered life into chaos. Normally she’d hate that, but with him? It felt right. It felt perfect.