Does he like what you’re doing? Are you pulling too hard? Not hard enough. Should you just get on your knees? Yeah, yeah, do that. Every guy likes that, right?

She started to drop down, eyes locked on Tav’s, but his grip slid up to her shoulders and tightened, sending a thrill through her but also confusing her because he was holding her in place.

His gaze on her was still intense, hot, but he seemed to be searching her face for something. His expression was so serious that for a second Portia was mortified, certain she really had given the worst hand job ever and he didn’t trust her teeth anywhere near him, but then he grinned and shook his head.

“I thought we agreed that I’m the chosen one here, love. That means I get the reward and I have something else in mind, if it’s all right with you.”

He began walking her back toward the bed, his hands sliding down the front of her blouse and undoing the buttons one by one. He slid the shirt back over her shoulders and they both stepped over it when it pooled on the floor. Now she was in just her lace bra and tight pants and heels, a style Tavish seemed to appreciate.

He leaned down and kissed her again, an action that seesawed between harsh and gentle, desire and denial. One of his hands smoothed down over the curve of her breasts, over her stomach, until his fingers had notched into the vee between her thighs. Those thick fingers she’d admired since the first morning she sat across from him in his office began to move now, circling over the fabric of her pants and underwear. The pressure was steady and firm, with no tentative fumbling as he searched for her clit. He zeroed in fast and hard, leaving her gasping with the sudden onslaught of pleasure. He was good with his hands in every situation, it seemed.

Her hips rolled and her head dropped back as she pressed into his touch.

“Do you like that?” he asked, rubbing faster, pressing deeper. Pleasure washed through her in time to his motions, rippling out from her clit to her toes to her fingertips in tingling waves.

“Yes,” she managed before pressing her teeth into her bottom lip to keep from crying out—they weren’t supposed to be doing this after all. Tavish’s laugh rumbled as he alternated the speed of his caressing.

“Good.” He tipped her back onto the bed, a move that was just a step below gentle, and followed her down as she fell backward onto the mattress, one hand still working. The other hand pressed her shoulder down into the mattress and Portia shuddered at the weight of it, which gave her pleasure just as much as the hand between her legs did.

Then he was kissing her as he rubbed, and though they’d been at it off and on for the last half hour, he kissed her like a lover who hadn’t seen his beloved in months. She wasn’t one for romanticizing, but he kissed with the lush, seductive artistry of Klimt, dark passion hidden beneath rich, solid strokes. His fingers pressed and his tongue caressed and she knew when the moisture of her desire had seeped through her pants because he Mmmmed into her mouth with a devilish delight that made her toes curl.

“Fuck, Tavish,” she whispered.

He was settled between her thighs, mouth fused to hers as he got her off with one hand. His other hand tugged at her bra straps, pulled the band roughly down over her stomach before his palm scraped over her breasts, the calluses and scars of his trade adding to the friction. He licked into her mouth, and then his thumb and index fingers closed around her nipple and pinched just hard enough to make her gasp and buck up beneath him.

He pulled his mouth away and his hand stopped moving, making her realize she’d caught his rhythm and had been riding it like she was in was the most important dressage competition of her life. “Too much?” he asked.

Somewhere in the back of her mind a voice told her she was supposed to deny liking such things, but instead she licked her lips and shook her head.

“Not enough.”

Tav groaned a laugh and then his lips pressed into her neck, then her collarbone, and then clamped around her nipple. He lashed it with short, hard strokes of his tongue. Her hands dove into his thick hair as she writhed and fought against the cry rising in her throat.

She didn’t know if it was his added years of experience or just innate talent, but Tav seemed to know exactly what pushed her buttons. His grip was strong and sure and his mouth and tongue moved with one mission: to drive pleasure into her. He gripped her nipple lightly between his teeth and tugged, as if reminding her that he could pleasure with any part of his body he so chose.

“Oh fuck.” Her body slid wildly against his and he did that thing again—pressing her down into the mattress with one hand to keep her in place. She let out a moan and he grinned, eyes on her and other hand at the waistband of her pants.

“More?” he asked, and waited for her shaky nod to tug her pants and underwear both down with one hand. His fingers slipped against her clit without the barrier of fabric, sending sparks of pleasure zipping through her. He wasn’t any more gentle than he had been, but it was exactly what Portia wanted from him. He rubbed hard circles into her wetness, still holding her down by a shoulder.

“I can feel you trembling. Are you close, love?” He slowed the motion down so he was moving his fingers in deep, torturous circles over her sleek nub.

“Yes, Tav,” she choked out. So close. She reached out to grip the length of him where he bulged against his boxer briefs. He grunted a curse as she pulled him through the flap. She stroked him as he stroked her, and watching the muscles in his jaw tense and his eyes squeeze shut almost pushed her over the edge completely.