She shifts in her seat, and the buttons of her blouse pull across her chest. It’s like rocket fuel to my dick. I’m sure she does things like that on purpose. Goads me. She’s a temptress, begging for it constantly, albeit subtly. Her face lights up when she sees me adjust myself. I’m going to burst out of my jeans soon.

The lights change, and I pull off quickly, taking the turn for Lusso, smacking the button to open the gates. They seem to take years to finally give me room to pass through.

I park, collect her, and lead her determinedly into the building. She greets the concierge as I tug her past his desk and, thank God, luck is on my side, the elevator doors open, waiting for us. I virtually toss her inside.

“Are you in a rush?” she asks.

Stupid question. “Yes.” I enter the code, the doors close, and my restraint snaps. I have her up against the wall fast. “You owe me an apology fuck,” I declare, ramming my tongue into her mouth, my kiss desperate and hungry. Her fault.

“What’s an apology fuck?” she asks, breathless.

I spread her legs with my knee, kissing my way to her ear. “It involves your mouth.” And it might kill me off, but all I can think of right now is owning her. Having her bend to my will. Indulging me. I rip myself away from her and lean back against the wall opposite, studying her shaking like a leaf, her breathing all over the place. Like mine. I pull my T-shirt up over my head, and her eyes drag down my torso to my jeans as I work the buttons. Her hands twitch by her sides, her eyes cloud, her lips part. This sight? Fucking magic. The way she’s looking at me? It’s a unique cocktail of everything amazing. My new drug. Her young, fresh face tells a thousand stories. She’s never experienced this before. This . . . ecstasy. And despite knowing without question my sex life has been far more colorful than Ava’s, I’m one hundred percent with her in this unchartered territory. Because even though my sureness and experience in the bedroom hasn’t changed, the feelings that accompany me have.

She likes my domination. Craves it. It’s my only weapon in this relationship, and I will exercise it shamelessly.

My rigid cock falls into my palm, and I look down, seeing it weeping. I grit my teeth and circle my palm, hissing as I start to thrust slowly, calmly, sharp tingles rolling across my skin. I look up through my lashes, my sight distorted, but I see her. I see her clearly. She’s plastered against the wall, her stare rooted to me working myself, her lips wet.

Ready.