“Do you watch porn when you do it?”

“Usually.”

“What do you watch? Do you watch beautiful women in stockings and heels fucking themselves with their fingers?”

“Sometimes,” she admitted.

“What else?” he asked, demanding answers. Answers she was too happy to give.

“I watch it all,” she said in a breathless rush.

“Do you watch women licking each other’s pussies?”

She nodded on a harsh breath.

“And women sucking off men?”

“Yes,” she cried out.

“Do you watch men fucking men?”

“Sometimes.”

“And men fucking women, and coming all over their beautiful fucking bellies and tits?”

“Yes, yes, yes.”

“And what about this?” he asked, spreading her ass and flicking his finger against her rear. A tease. A hint. “Do you like to watch ass play? Fingers, toys, cocks?”

“Oh God, yes.”

He groaned loudly, and no more words came from him. No more questions. Just primal sounds of pleasure.

She was vaguely aware of the moans and groans, and it took a few seconds for her to connect all those sounds to her. She was making them. She was spread on his desk, heels hooked on the edge, legs wide open and vulnerable, head thrown back, hair spilling out, fucking herself with his toy as she cried out.

She concentrated fiercely on the orgasm she felt cresting. She swore she could see it rising up on the edge of a far cliff, like a swirl of pleasure, like a drug-induced opium haze. Jack’s voice cut through her cries.

“Stop.” His voice was firm. One word. That was all. A command.

“I don’t want to,” she protested.

“Do it anyway,” he said, and she somehow found the strength to slow the pace, her chest convulsing, her pussy twitching with the desperate need to come.

He wasn’t a sadist. He surely didn’t believe in torture. He was a man of pleasure. A man constructed and outfitted, whether it was his passion or his business, to deliver endless joy to a woman. Because when she looked up through hazy, lust-filled eyes, she was greeted with the most beautiful sight. He’d unzipped his pants, pushed down his briefs, and was rolling a condom onto his long, thick, beautifully erect cock.

She removed the toy, dropped it on his desk, and two seconds later, he yanked her by the hips, positioned himself at her entrance, and shoved into her. His breath hissed out as he filled her to the hilt. She wrapped her arms around his chest, and murmured his name. “Jack.”

“Michelle,” he said, sliding out, then back in her. “You feel so fucking good.” His eyes were glassy with desire. “I love how you made your pussy so fucking perfectly ready for me.”

“I’m so ready for you,” she said, reaching up to his face, cupping his cheeks, his stubble rough against her hands.

“Are you ready to come?” he asked, never looking away as he thrust into her, sending a flurry of white-hot sparks through her body.

“So ready. Please make me come.”