“Fuck.”

The satisfaction I get when he throws his head back and curses as I cup his balls in one hand and take his shaft deeper is probably unhealthy, but I don’t care. As soon as he tossed down the challenge, I was on a mission.

The power struggle I understand is back, except this time, I have the advantage.

I drop my head to suck one ball into my mouth and then the other, and his groan fills the suite. I keep waiting for him to break my rule and destroy my hairstyle, which would give us both a reason not to leave the room, but he doesn’t.

He’s respecting my request, and that adds another layer to the power trip I’m already on.

I work his shaft, alternating my hand and mouth but never letting go of his balls, and glance up from beneath my eyelashes. His dark gaze spears me, and the raw need and desire in it has me ready to throw my advantage out the window. Hearing him beg pales in comparison to the thought of him yanking me to my feet, spinning me around, and burying his cock inside me.

What that says about me, I don’t know or care at this moment.

“Are you going to swallow it all when I come down your throat?” he asks, and I shake my head. His brow furrows with confusion, and I let the head of his cock slide from my mouth with a pop. “What the hell game are you playing here?”

Slowly, I rise to my feet. “No game. Not this time.”

Mount’s eyes go molten. “You want to be fucked, don’t you?”

I nod.

“Thank God.”

He doesn’t follow the story line I plotted out in my head, but when has he ever? Instead, he drags me toward the sofa, then pulls my dress up and out of the way as he bends me over the back. His breath catches when he sees I’m not wearing any panties.

“Naughty fucking girl. When we walk into that gala tonight, you’re still going to feel me pounding inside you. Is that what you want?”

“Yes,” I whisper.

“Louder.”

“Yes, goddammit!”

“Then you better hold on, because I’m done holding back.”

* * *

Mount is one hundred percent true to his word. An hour later, after I’ve repaired my makeup and fixed a few falling tendrils, I can still feel him as the ache pulses between my legs.

I’m still unsteady as we enter the gala. Hell, I’m still unsteady after my first drink. It’s the Mount Effect, I decide.

Everyone’s attention turns to the stage twenty minutes later when the emcee starts announcing winners of the competition. As I smile and clap, I wish more than ever I’d known I was coming because Seven Sinners is just as good, if not better, than those taking home awards tonight.

I open my mouth to tell Mount I need another drink, but the emcee hits the Tasters’ Choice category for American whiskey, and I pause because this is the one I know we could have won.

“And the award goes to . . .” He opens the envelope dramatically before continuing. “Seven Sinners Distillery, the Spirit of New Orleans.”

I look from side to side, wondering if anyone else heard what he said or if I’m still passed out drunk and hallucinating. How is this possible?

Mount’s hand shifts from the small of my back, slipping around to pull me against his side. I look up at him, shock and confusion ripping through me.

“Did you do this? Set us up to win?”

He shakes his head. “All I did is make sure they took it as a late entry. Seven Sinners won this all on its own.”

“Oh my God.” Elation, brilliant and dazzling, fills me.

He jerks his chin toward the stage. “I believe it’s time to accept your award.”

With his hand on my back, we make our way through the crowd, but I climb the stairs to the podium by myself. My hands tremble as I accept the crystal-bottle statue and shake the emcee’s hand.

“Thank you, sir.” From my position on the stage, I scan the crowd, looking for only one face. And it’s not one of my competitors.

It’s his.

When I find it, another wave of exhilaration washes over me. He’s smiling, and it’s one I feel like I’ve only ever before seen in my garbled recollections of last night.

It’s just as brilliant as I thought it would be.

The emcee gives me a nod. “It’s our pleasure, Ms. Kilgore.”

I swallow the emotions threatening to burst free of my chest and make my way back down the stairs. Mount is waiting at the bottom with a surprising expression on his face.

Pride.

“Congratulations, Madam President.”