Dropping to my knees in front of her, I lifted the bottom of her dress, which was surprisingly heavy. To my delight, she wore nothing beneath it. The sight of her bare thighs parted for me fired up my engine all over again.

Pinning the dress up by her hips, I stroked her with my tongue—long, leisurely sweeps up the center of her pussy that made her writhe and wriggle above me. I lingered at the top, using the tip of my tongue on her hot little button, paying attention to her sighs and moans, learning what she liked best, letting her give me the cue to go faster, to slow down, to flick harder, to lick softer.

She tasted every bit as good as I’d fantasized—and I made it clear that my appetite for her would not be easily sated.

At one point, I reached between her thighs and slung a leg over my shoulder, using the new angle to penetrate deeper with my tongue before sucking her swollen clit into my mouth. Her moans grew louder, and she struggled against the restraint on her wrists. Her legs trembled.

I slipped two fingers inside her, working them the way I knew she liked while devouring her with my mouth.

“Oh God,” she panted, rocking her hips over my face, “you’re going to make me come. You evil, wicked, terrible, gorgeous—oh!”

The leg she stood on buckled and I supported her with my shoulder and hand, her back flat against the wall as her core muscles clenched my fingers and her orgasm beat against my tongue. My name fell from her lips, and the caveman urge to get inside her again overtook me.

Before she could even take a breath, I jumped up, grabbed her by the hips, and swung her toward the bed. Then I spun her around, wrapped an arm around her waist and pushed her forward so her cheek was pressed into the mattress. Her tiara toppled onto the sheets, but her arms were still tied in place, her crossed wrists resting on her back. “Don’t. Move.”

She stayed still while I grabbed a condom and put it on. Her breath was coming as fast and hard as mine was as I bent down to grab the bottom of her dress.

That’s when I spotted the other glove. Snatching it off the floor, I decided to put it to good use.

“Put your feet together,” I told her.

She brought one foot in next to the other, and I used the second glove to bind them. Then I gathered the dress and lifted it to her hips. Pausing for a moment, I took a little time to appreciate the sight before me—her heels set primly side by side, her legs straight and pale, her perfect round ass like two scoops of vanilla ice cream waiting to be devoured.

My entire body tensed with anticipation.

She was here. She was mine. She was perfect.

She was completely at my mercy.

And I wanted her more than I’d ever wanted anyone.

Holding my breath, I slid inside her, battling for control. On her lower back, her fingers flexed repeatedly. Her legs quivered. I wrapped my hands around her hips and held her steady while I set a rhythm against her—slow and deep.

Her body was hot and tight and wet around my cock, and it took every ounce of strength I had not to slam into her like a wild animal. My fingers dug into her skin. Watching my cock move in and out of her body made every nerve ending in my body feel like a live wire.

When instinct threatened to take over and tear my self-control to shreds, I reached around and slipped my fingers between her legs. Summoning every last bit of command over my body, I focused on her—holding my cock deep within her while I worked her back into a frenzy with my hand. “Come again for me,” I whispered.

“No! I won’t let you make me,” she panted.

I smiled at her determination. “You’re not in control of anything here. Not even your own orgasm.”

“You’ve already had your way with me. Untie me this minute!”

“No.” Bracing my other hand on the mattress, I pulled out of her slightly and leaned forward, speaking low in her ear. “You’re going to keep your legs together like a good girl should. You’re going to admit that you want this.”

“I don’t,” she whimpered, but I could feel her pushing her hips back against me.

“Tell me you want this, princess. Tell me you love my cock inside you. Tell me you’re going to come because of the way I’m fucking you.”

She groaned in agony, as if torn between her body and her will. “I hate you for this,” she hissed as I worked my fingers a little faster, eased my cock in deeper, “but fuck, I love your cock inside me.”

“And?”

“And I want this.”

I could feel her body tensing around me. “And?”

“Sorry, I forgot the other thing,” she whispered, coming out of character. “You have me all—I can’t—oh my God—”

“You’re going to come because of the way I’m fucking you.” I could barely get the words out myself.

“Yes!” she shouted, burying her face in the mattress as she tried to buck her hips and take what she wanted. It was the fucking hottest thing I’d ever seen. “Yes . . . yes . . . yes.”

I couldn’t hold back any longer. With her body still in the throes of climax, I gave in to the instinct to move hard and fast, gripping her hips once more and driving into her with deep, powerful strokes that made her cry out into the bedding. The orgasm tore through my body, making every single muscle clench and shudder with release.

Afterward, I braced myself on two hands beside her, lowering my forehead to her back.

“This is where I beg for mercy,” she whispered.

I felt exactly the same.

While Blair slept, I lay on my back, hands behind my head, listening to her breathe, her scent still filling my head. I tried to imagine getting up and leaving right now, which is what I’d normally do at this point in the night, and I couldn’t. I tried to imagine letting her get up and leave, and I couldn’t. I wanted to be right next to her, even if all we did was sleep.

It was really fucking weird.

For me, sex was always about the release, about letting off steam. It was about working off my frustration with life in a physical way, and it had a definite finish line. It involved someone else’s pleasure, but it was never about the other person. The sex and the person were separate—even I felt removed from it.

But this thing with Blair was different.

It was impossible to think about what we’d done and separate it from her, or how I felt about her. It was about physical release, yes, but it was also about wanting to be with her. Share something with her. Give something to her.

And rather than craving distance when it was over, each encounter left me craving more.

I hadn’t been with the same woman two nights in a row since Kayla and I had split.

Another rule broken.

And I wasn’t about to suggest she start spending the night anywhere else. But I also knew that this was all I could offer. A temporary break from my rules while she was here. A little relief from the loneliness. A good time.

But it wasn’t like I was using Blair—I genuinely liked her. She was adorable and funny and smart. She was creative and organized, and completely determined to amp up my business. She really cared. She could talk to anybody, and she lured customers into the shop like a siren lured a sailor. She was irresistible—not just to me, to everyone.

And maybe for her, I was part of the rebellious streak she was on. Part of the break from her old life—from guys who wore fancy watches and designer suits, guys who had money in the bank, but didn’t have a clue how to please a woman. Maybe this thing with me was what she needed to feel different about herself.