That wouldn’t do.

He pushed her off him and it pained him when her mouth broke contact with his erection. “Window. Now. Your hands up against the glass.”

She nodded, her eyes as wild as his, her breath fast, a bead of sweat sliding between her gorgeous breasts.

She moved to the window that overlooked Central Park, bathed in the dark of nighttime and shadows, the treetops barely visible. Down below, Fifth Avenue snaked by, a strip of cabs and sleek cars, and across the street he saw other New Yorkers enjoying the night.

But not as much as he was.

He spread her cheeks, ran his fingers through her slick pussy, and then shoved into her. No waiting. He needed her as much as she needed him. She felt amazing like this, skin against skin.

He palmed her breasts as he thrust into her. “Michelle,” he moaned, the pleasure prowling through him. “You feel so fucking good like this.”

“I love this,” she said, arching her back in an invitation for him to sink his teeth into her shoulder. She yelped, but didn’t pull away.

He pumped deeper, harder. “I want to come inside you so badly.”

“Do it.”

He shook his head, grabbing a breast harder in his hand, then sliding his other between her legs. “No. You need to come again. I’ve barely started with you. Don’t hold back. Don’t stop. Come whenever you feel like it.”

“I’m so glad I have your permission,” she said with a laugh, and he loved that she’d made a joke in the middle of this heated moment.

He rubbed her clit faster, feeling it swell more under his fingers, feeling her grow hotter against his dick as he pushed into her. “Everything about you,” he said, his breath coming hard and fast. “Everything about you is perfect for me.”

She moaned his name, and nothing had ever turned him on more than this woman, and how she was with him. Their chemistry staggered him. It stole his breath and threatened to annihilate his heart. She was designed for him; and he was made for her. They were meant to be together like this. To connect in this primal and beautiful way. To share in this kind of intimacy.

“God, I love it when you come. I love making you feel good. I love when you fall apart for me,” he said.

“Then tell me how much you want me,” she said.

Blood pounded in his head. Breath ripped out of his lungs. He gripped her tighter. “I can’t stop thinking about you. I think about you all the time,” he said, driving in farther.

“Yes. That,” she panted, and rolled her hips back into him, her movements telling him she wanted everything he gave her.

“I can’t get enough of you. The more I have of you, the more I want.”

“Oh God,” she said, crying out, throwing her head back, and shouting that she was there.

And as she screamed her pleasure louder than he’d ever heard her, he pumped through it, until his orgasm plowed through his body, obliterating everything else in its path, but the intensity of coming inside her. No barriers, nothing held back. Nothing but him with the woman he needed.