I stretch one hand over both her wrists and hold them in place with a tight grip while I bring my other hand down her body to tickle her sides, her thighs, and neck.

“That was you claiming me with your dick, Aleck?” she screams, trying to buck me off with her hips.

I laugh, continuing to tickle her sides. “Yep. You’re mine now, asshole.”

“Is that so?” She squirms under my tickling hands.

“Say it…” I slide my hand over her wetness and start rubbing, making her eyes shutter closed. “Say you’re mine, Winter.”

Her laughter settles into a devilish smile, her bucking hips turn into a grind, and my cock starts to swell again. She bites her bottom lips, her eyes melting into mine which, naturally, I take as a confirmation.

She didn’t say it, but she’s mine and she knows it.

“We’re only getting started, baby.” I scoot myself down her body, kissing a path from her stomach to her intensifying heat. “Only getting started.”

EIGHTEEN

WINTER

We had sex on every surface of this suite.

After he… Well, after he finished unexpectedly, it wasn’t long before Aleck was ready for round two. Then three. Then four. Completely abolishing the memory of our first time. Which, although short-lived, was fantastic.

After round two, I went into the bathroom to clean up. Within a few minutes, Aleck entered the bathroom saying I was “taking too long,” then he bent me over the sink. After that, we went to the kitchen to eat, which was really just refueling, before he bent me over that sink.

When I went into my closet to pick up his suits and hang them back up, he insisted I didn’t have to do that, then we had sex on them.

Then we boned in my bed. And that last time, that last time, I’m almost positive we levitated to another plane of existence. I lost a sliver of myself in that last time, not quite sure I’ll ever be the same.

I’ve never had so much sex in one night, in my life. More importantly, I’ve never had so many orgasms in my life—not only in one night, but in my entire life.

For women, there’s maybe a thirty to forty percent likelihood of getting off during sex. Let’s be honest, there’s a twenty percent chance he actually knows where the clit is. This is not the case with Aleck Fox, not the case at all. Not only does he know where my clit is, he knows where my G-spot is, and he pays ample attention to both. He and my spots are like old friends from college. They’re besties. Homies. They enjoy each other’s company. So much so, I’m pretty sure when he and I move on from this, I’ll never come again.

It’s possible I’m ruined. That Aleck Fox ruined me for all men. He was right, he did in fact murder my pussy.

We ended our sex-fest in my bed around midnight. When we couldn’t stand or use our muscles anymore, I laid in Aleck’s arms while we told each other stories about our childhood. His were dark and stirred up nausea in my gut that threatened to bring me to tears. It felt mocking to share mine, but he wanted to know how I grew up. He wanted to know, “What makes Winter so warm.”