He extends his hand, and I rise, staring up with big eyes.

“You look like you’re afraid of me,” he says.

I allow him to pull me up and into his arms. “Maybe I am.”

“Well, don’t be. You were never afraid of me before.”

We sway to the sultry Cuban music. For several moments, he holds me close as we slow-dance. The rhythm we quickly fall into is as intoxicating as his scent and my eyes flutter closed.

“Did you do everything today that I asked?” he whispers in my ear.

A devilish smile plays on my lips, and I entwine my arms coyly around his neck and look into his eyes because I want him to think that he’s calling the shots. I push out my bottom lip. “I went to the spa and endured the waxing. It hurt. I’m totally bare.”

He runs the tips of his fingers over my arms. “I can’t wait to see. And touch. And taste.”

I go from being damp to a veritable waterfall between my legs, and I move a few inches closer to him and grin.

“And did you go shopping?”

I kiss his neck and focus on the strength of his arms. “I did. I bought some things. I have them in the suitcases.”

“Some things? Did you spend all of the money?”

I nibble on his skin. “I did, but not on myself.”

Rafa strokes the bare skin of my upper back with his fingertips. “So what did you buy with the money instead? Did you donate it to nuns or animals?”

I giggle and snuggle a bit closer. I’m growing more comfortable in his arms by the second. “Pizza and snacks for the newsroom. They worked so hard today, covering breaking news.”

Rafa sighs. “Justine, for our arrangement to work this month, you need to abide by one rule.”

He draws me near and kisses my cheek, then my jaw. His hot breath hits the skin of my neck, and I shiver.

“What rule is that?” I’m barely able to form words because his hands are gripping my upper arms so possessively.

“You must always put my pleasure and my needs first. Before anyone else’s. Always.”

“Even the paper’s? Even my own?”

“Yes. And definitely yes.”

I inhale sharply as he bites my earlobe, then smooths the sting away with a brush of his thumb.

“Don’t you remember that I get so much pleasure from seeing you excited? So this will be a mutually pleasurable arrangement if you always put me first.”

He stops swaying to the music. Cupping my head in his hands, he kisses my lips softly.

“Are you angry?” I’m still trying to muster a cute pout, but I’m breathing hard.

He trails a line of kisses down my skin, soft, teasing motions that are driving me insane. Where my jaw meets my ear. The curve of my neck. My collarbone. I look down and notice the bulge in his jeans. A tiny moan escapes my throat.

“Very angry,” he whispers. “Can’t you tell?”

He embraces me again, and we move together to the music. I become lost in fantasies of things we could do together. Like go to the beach. Snorkel in the clear springs east of here. Read books in bed and drink coffee. God, I love to read in bed on Sundays and haven’t in so long.

Goosebumps spread over my arms when he sings a few lines in Spanish of a romantic bolero from the thirties in my ear.

He seizes my mouth, long and hard. I’m hungry for him, and I kiss him back with tongue and bites. I feel fierce and then whimper when he breaks away.

“Want to show me your new lingerie?”

“Yes, Rafecito, I do. Unzip me.” I grin and turn so my back faces him. My legs tremble, and I’m a little weak.

He lowers the long zipper and murmurs a growl of approval. There’s only bare skin all the way to the bottom of my tailbone. No bra and no panties. Impatient, I wriggle out of my dress, the black fabric pooling around my feet. I step out of the dress and kick it off, standing an arm’s length from him, so he can get a full view of my ass.

I’m naked, save for the tall black heels. I shimmy for effect and sweep my hair off my neck and hold it in a messy bun on my head.

“You’re not wearing anything underneath. You’re not wearing anything you bought today.”

I stick my ass out a little and wiggle. “Nope. Are you angry?” I turn to face him and extend my arms. I’m toying with him. The real dance is only just beginning.

He ignores my question.

“Why do you have to still be so gorgeous?” The light of the fireplace flickers off my body and his glittering eyes. His gaze wanders to my breasts and down to the smooth skin between my legs. He licks his lips.

Yes, two can play at this game. With my rubbery limbs, I take his hand and slowly lead him to the low-slung modern sofa a few paces away.

I sit on the edge of the sofa, my legs pressed together. When a lock of hair falls across my face, I grin lustily. I gaze up as he goes to unbuckle his belt.

I shake my head and touch his hands gently with my fingers.

“Down. On your knees,” I command. He sinks onto the rug and looks up at me.

“I thought I said you were supposed to put my pleasure first. And I’m the one supposed to give commands.” He bites my knee softly.

My knees squeeze together. His hands roam my bare calves, and he stares as if hypnotized at my full, bare breasts, punctuated with hard nipples. I cup them, plucking at the hard peaks.

A smile dances on my lips. “I am putting your pleasure first, Rafael.” I open my legs wide, and my clit throbs in anticipation. All I want right now is to dominate his desire.

He groans. “Dios mio, Justine, you do know exactly what I want.”

His teeth mark my inner thigh. I feel his warm breath on the sensitive skin. His long eyelashes there, too. And his tongue, his exquisite, talented tongue, which zooms in exactly where I need, warm and wet and demanding. My hands bring his head even closer because I deserve this, dammit. I’ve waited too long.

“Rafa, yesss,” I whisper.

He raises his head. “I don’t know what’s better. Hearing you say my name or licking your pussy.”

“Shhh. Don’t talk.” I guide his face back toward my clit.

He raises his head again and opens his mouth into a smile. Why can’t he be quiet and focus?

“You used to like it when I talked dirty.”

I run my fingers over his lips, which are wet with my juices. I slip my thumb into his mouth. He bites the pad lightly, and I smile through my need.

“Stop talking and stop biting and start licking.”

He grins and cocks an eyebrow. “Still a bossy little slut, aren’t you?”

I never used to mind when he called me filthy names during sex, and now I’m sopping wet when he does. He calls me something nasty in Spanish, and I shift closer to him. I laugh and tug on his short hair, guiding his head back in between my legs.

“I liked you better with longer hair. I could pull on it and move you around easier.”

“Noted,” he mumbles in between licks of my clit.

Tonight, he isn’t as worshipful as he was when we were in school. He’s hungry for me. I can tell by the way he plucks and sucks at my inner lips and how his tongue senses exactly what pressure I need and where. He’s remembered exactly the spot near my clit that makes me come and allows his tongue to dance, tease, and torment.

His fingers spread me apart wider, and I breathe his name, nearly overcome with sensation. I throw my head back and close my eyes, but it’s not long before I have to look at him. The sight of him devouring me is too erotic to pass up.

He pauses, kneeling and staring up at me. What is he doing? I feel swollen, heavy, and needy.

I frown. “Rafa? Please. I’m really close.”

“I know, Justi. But I don’t want you to come yet.”

He trails his hands up and down my inner thighs, shifting his eyes from my face to my slick opening. He slides a finger inside of me, and my hips buck, asking for more.

“You know what you have to do if you want to come,” he whispers wickedly.

I reach down and place my palm flat on his cheek. My thumb strokes his lips, which are turned upward in a smile. “Beg. You want me to beg.”

He nods, taking my hand off his face, and presses his mouth to my inner thigh. He traces my labia with a light touch while alternating kisses and bites of my thigh.

It’s too much. I throb with each stroke, each touch of his lips. I try to guide his head between my legs, but he grips my wrist hard and laughs. He bites my thigh, and I gasp from the pain. “Fuck, that feels amazing,” I groan.

With my free hand, I go to touch my clit, but he grabs that arm as well.

His grip is tight and possessive. “Rafa, please make me come. Now. I’m begging you.” It comes out as a half-whine, half-whisper.

He releases my hands and grins as he moves toward my pussy. I’m out of breath by the time his tongue laps me, and I cry out when he circles the flesh slowly. Rafa flicks and licks, and I’m begging. Pleading, even.

“Rafael…” Saying his name out loud makes me wetter, brings me closer to a tall cliff, one I haven’t been atop in years. I clench and quiver.

When I’m on the verge of detonating, I spy his free hand on the top of my thigh. Instinctively, my hand finds his and my slim fingers intertwine with his big ones. I press my palm against his as my orgasm approaches. The sight of our fingers tangled together, gripping one another in the firelight, strikes something tender inside of me, causing a flood of emotion along with intense, pulsating pleasure as I come. I frown and scrunch my eyes shut, feeling an exquisite agony as pleasurable waves crash around my body.

I let out a little strangled scream, and he sits back and watches me pant, my legs still splayed so he’s eye-level with my pussy. My insides feel like they’re made of liquid gold.

“How can you still do that, Rafael? How do you still know exactly where to touch me?”

I slip off the sofa, onto the rug, and into his lap. My muscles feel rubbery from the release, and yet my desire is heightened. I’m not done, nowhere near.

He plants an open-mouthed kiss on my lips, then murmurs a response. “I’ll never forget how to please you, Justi.”

I wrap myself around him, aware that I’m naked, save for the heels, and that he’s fully clothed.

“Now. I need you inside me now. Please.”