Her eyes open. Her face is flushed and her chest heaves between us. Her eyes flit over my face like she doesn’t know what to say.

“Tell me,” I say. “I want to hear you say it.”

She nods. “It feels good.”

“You want more?” I ask. “Tell me.” She’s used to being controlled—to being powerless. She has all the power now, over me, if only she’d use it. “I want to hear what you want.”

She grabs my hand and slides my fingers between us, down, down, down, until I’m touching her pussy.

“I’m so wet,” she says. “I don’t know how⁠—”

My groan interrupts her. I can’t help it. Her juices coat my fingers and I’m dizzy with the need to feel more. To slide into her and have my cock coated in her. To fuck her until we both forget our names.

But first, I want more. More of everything.

I bite down on her other breast and soothe the opposite nipple between my thumb and finger, rolling and pressing.

I kiss the soft fresh of her breasts over and over, then suck the side of one, knowing I’ll leave a mark. It will take a week for the bruise to fade, and every time she gets in the shower until then, she’ll think of everything we did tonight.

“Byron,” she whispers.

I press up on my palms to admire my work. Her fingers skate over the spot I just marked.

“I haven’t had a hickey since…”

“Don’t tell me,” I say. “I don’t want to hear about anyone else. Only us. Only now.”

She presses her palms on my cheeks. “There’s only us. Only now.”

Her words make me feel raw. Like she’s stolen my invisible shield. She’s unhooked my armor, unmasked me. She’s seeing through to my soul. The real me, not the guarded, careful strategist. Everything that’s left is hers.

We stare at each other like we’re newly glued together, waiting to set. We can’t move or we’ll destroy everything.

“I want you so badly,” I confess.

She widens her legs in response, inviting me to take what I want. My heart thumps in my chest, trying to wake me from a lust-induced coma.

I’m desperate to slide into her, but at the same time, I don’t want to move. I don’t want to undo anything. It’s like a spell has been cast over us and I don’t want it to break.

Her gaze falls on my mouth and she trails her finger over my lips, sweeping her tongue over her bottom lip. How can just the tip of her finger feel so good?

“Tell me what you want,” I say.

“Kiss me,” she whispers, her eyes fluttering shut.