He let out a sound that was somewhere between a choke and a groan. He took a step toward me. Then another. His voice got husky, low.

“I don’t give a shit about what ladies do or don’t do. Just you. The thought of you teasing yourself, touching yourself. Fuck, that’s hot.”

He released a shaky breath, and a surge of victory slammed into me. He wanted me. Even if he didn’t want to want me. Maybe he’d meant to go slow, but I wanted nothing to do with caution. I wanted to hurl myself down the ride of my life. I wanted to feel so much it hurt.

“You want to be the villain? Fine. I’m not looking for a hero. I know you have issues. I know you have baggage and you’re so obviously commitment-phobic, it’s not even funny, but you want me. You can pretend you don’t, but I’m not some young girl you can intimidate. You said you were taking a chance on this—getting off the fence. Get off the fence.

“I want you to fuck me.” There, I’d said it. And somehow the world hadn’t descended into chaos. “I want you to make me forget that the last guy I had sex with—the only guy I’ve ever had sex with—probably never really wanted me.”

My voice shook with nerves, anticipation, and a sexual desire that ran through me like a flash flood.

Now or never.

I reached behind me and unzipped the dress, letting the fabric fall to the floor in a pool of silk and satin, leaving me exposed in a lace Agent Provocateur half-corset.

Gray sucked in a deep breath, his mouth tight. His gaze darkened and my nipples pebbled in response, heat flooding my body as wetness pooled between my legs.

I wanted him. Fuck everything else.

Gray

I didn’t know how I’d ever been so stupid as to think she wasn’t sexy. The girl standing in front of me was, hands down, the sexiest thing I’d ever seen. She was a fucking fantasy.

She wore black lace that pushed her tits up as if offering them to my hands and mouth, and a little thong that showed a lot of skin.

I wasn’t sure who moved first, but the end result was the same—Blair in my arms, my hands on her ass, pulling her against my aching cock. She gave me her mouth, and I took it with my lips, tongue, and teeth. I sucked on her bottom lip, my teeth sinking into her flesh while she moaned against me, her hands moving under my shirt to stroke my back, her nails digging into my skin.

Fuck.

I’d always thought of Blair as the kind of girl who’d want candles and soft music and flower petals. I didn’t imagine her stripping in my living room and demanding I fuck her, but there was no chance in hell I was passing this opportunity up.

I broke away from our kiss so that she could pull my shirt off over my head, and then her mouth was mine again.

Her hands explored my chest, her fingers trailing down my torso until she reached my navel, teasing the skin there, dipping below my pajama pants. Her fingers curved around my cock and my hips jerked forward, pressing against her hand, my mouth torn from hers.

“Fuck me,” I hissed, barely able to come up with a coherent thought as she stroked me, her fingers curled in a fist. I fucked her hand, my erection hard and aching, the need to come nearly overwhelming. It had been months since I’d had a woman. Months of nothing but my hand and thoughts of her.

She fisted my cock, her wrist twisting, hand pumping, her fist sliding up to palm the head, the move sending a shiver down my spine.

I bent my head, my teeth connecting with the soft curve of her neck and shoulder. I sucked on the skin there, my teeth nipping at her, not caring that it would leave a mark. I wanted to mark her. Wanted everyone to know she was mine. There was something savage here between us—the realization that I didn’t have to pretend I was someone I wasn’t with her, that I could be me, in all of my screwed-up glory, and she’d still have me.

I reared back, the taste of her on my tongue. My hands came to the front of her bra, to the line of hooks that ran between her tits. I flicked one open, the black lace gaping to expose her naked flesh. Then another, my knuckles grazing her skin, tantalizingly close to the delicious curve of her breasts. She shuddered against me, and then the hand on my cock went completely still.

It was like I was unwrapping a present, hook by hook. Each opening gave me another inch of skin and tore another shiver from her body. I stopped midway down, staring at Blair’s face. She was gone, the mask she hid behind completely obliterated.

Her eyes were wide and unfocused, her lips swollen and red, her cheeks flushed. Her long brown hair tumbled down around her shoulders, the bottom curl hovering over the slope of her breast. A red mark marred her ivory skin where my mouth had claimed her.

Her chest rose and fell with harsh breaths, thrusting her tits up toward me. Her nipples were still covered by the black lace, but the need to see them, taste them, overwhelmed me.

I fumbled with the rest of the hooks, dragging my fingers down her skin until I reached the final one and pushed the lace away and she was bare before me.

For a moment all I could do was stand and stare at perfection.

Pink nipples. Creamy skin. Soft curves.

I cupped her breasts, my callused fingers grazing her silky skin.

I could die a happy man from this alone.

And then she moved, arching her body toward me, and said the magic words that broke whatever restraint I reached for.

“More.”

My mouth closed down on her nipple. Blair shuddered against me, her legs trembling, and I wrapped my free arm around her, holding in her in place while my lips and tongue destroyed her.

She tasted . . . I didn’t even know. Like nothing I’d ever tasted before. So fucking sweet. Addictive.

I tongued her nipple, my teeth grazing her sensitive flesh. Her hands came down and tangled in my hair, yanking on the ends, pulling me closer while I toyed with her other nipple, twisting and tugging, flicking it between my fingers until it begged for my mouth. I released her nipple with a wet pop, turning my attention to the other one, my dick hardening even more at the gasps and whimpers rolling off of Blair’s tongue.

I trailed a hand down her stomach, stopping when I reached the waistband of her lacy black thong. Her earlier words came back to me, Hell, I’d like for someone to rip my thong off, and the next thing I knew her ruined underwear was lying on the hardwood floor next to us.

I trailed my finger down, my touch featherlight over her clit. And then I stroked her, inches away from where I wanted to be.

She was soaked.

I groaned, my cock hard to the point of pain. I wanted to free myself, to sink into her wetness and drown. But from the moment this had started, from the moment she’d begun talking, I’d been determined to give her the best night of her life. She’d never had an orgasm from straight-up sex before? I wanted to make her come over and over again.

I circled her entrance, teasing her swollen flesh as she shuddered against my hand, and then I filled her, two fingers sliding in to the hilt.

Tight. Silk. Warm. Wet. Fucking perfect.

I dragged my fingers in and out, each time leaving her sensitive flesh quivering around me. Sometimes I gave it to her hard and deep, her pussy clenching around my fingers. Other times, I pulled out, giving her nothing more than the tips of my fingers hovering at her entrance until she was taking what she wanted, fucking herself over my fingers.

I released her nipple, adding a third finger, my thumb moving up to rub her distended clit. The second I did, she clenched around my fingers, and I felt the beginning of her orgasm ripping through her.

“Come for me, baby.” I whispered, my voice tight with lust and need.

She pulled at my hair as her back arched. My fingers kept pumping, harder, faster. Just as she was right on the edge, ready to fall into oblivion, I pulled out of her. She gasped and then I was on my knees, my mouth on her, my tongue on her sex, lapping at her clit, and then she was shattering against me, sobs escaping her lips. I held her up while I ate her, while she shuddered against my mouth, and then when her legs simply gave out, I guided her to the floor and looked my fill.