“Say it.”

Our bodies slam against the door to my place. I’ve got one palm on the mahogany paneling, and the other wrapped up in a fistful of Emilia’s hair. Her eyes are shaded by the thickness of her eyelashes, but they’re not closed in ecstasy.

They’re staring at my lips, so fucking close to hers.

This fucking girl. Just begging to be kissed.

“I’m not fucking saying it.”

“Say it,” I urge. This time with a very convincing thrust of my hips against hers.

I’m hard, thick, and long enough that I already know she’s going to struggle to take it.

But first, I want to hear the words from her sexy little mouth.

“Not on your life,” she growls, meeting my eyes.

Jesus. Her eyes. They’re so fucking blue they almost look Photoshopped. If I saw a picture of this girl in a magazine, I’d blink twice and call bullshit.

I get lost in them for a second anyway, searching for the edge of a colored contact and coming up short. Fuck me. She’s actually for real.

I forget myself. I take her fucking lips.

She tastes like nothing I’ve ever encountered before—and I’ve done a lot of taste testing in my life. It’s not strawberries, or champagne, or any of that bullshit. If anything, she tastes like blue agave.

Like fine tequila, a lick of salt, and a squeeze of lime.

But it’s not just that. My tongue slips between her lips and slides against hers, searching to verify and to figure her out.

To taste more.

It’s fucking unnatural, how good she tastes.

A little tangy. A little bitter. A little sweet.

It’s that taste you get in your mouth when you can feel the wind on your face and adrenaline coursing through your veins. It’s the taste of a moment in time when you know your entire life is about to change—better or worse.

Which is fucking insane, when you think about it. This sexy little piece just followed me out of the elevator and came at me, hungry for man meat.

Everything about Emilia screams I don’t do relationships anyway.

She’s an ice princess, a fucking man eater.

It’s a tale as old as time. But it’s not the kind of story that makes it into fairy tales—fuck no. Alpha male, alpha female. We’re a pairing better suited for the history books.

“Say it,” I command. For the last fucking time.

“Say what, Evan?”

I smirk against her lips. “The something better that came up. Admit it. It’s me.”

Now she’s the one grinding against my hips.

“I’ll say,” she purrs.

My cock throbs as I unlock the door behind her, and we stumble inside.

This is a casual hook-up. I have to remind myself of that much. Casual. One night of passion. Nothing more.

We’re two celestial giants that just got a little too close to each other in our mutual paths through the universe. Got wrapped up in each other’s orbits, and now, we’re going for a little spin in each other’s atmospheres.

Emilia’s atmosphere smells like gardenias and lilies and wet cunt. I kiss her again, savoring the taste of her lips, as I pick her up and throw her onto my leather armchair.

Wet cunt.

There’s another set of lips I want to taste next.

I don’t even have time for the expensive little piece of cloth she’s calling a dress.

I drop to my knees and shove it up around her waist.

The rest, I’ll deal with later. Right now, I have some promises to make good on.

“You’re fucking soaked.”

I breathe her in as I force her thighs apart, kneeling before her like a humble patron of a sex-crazed goddess. But if I’m a believer, I’m a greedy one. I remind her of it as I run my teeth along the smooth expanse of her inner thigh.

“Why might that be, Emilia?”

“Some asshole in the elevator up here went and got me wet.”

She half-smiles, eyes drunk with lust, as she grabs the back of my head and reels me in.

“Why don’t you take care of it?”

“Yeah? Is that what you want?”

She narrows her eyes at me, lips pulling back in a sultry snarl.

“Evan, I don’t ask twice.”

Fuck. Her voice—that breathy, dominant croon that makes my cock stiff as forged steel and my chest go tight. The fucking entitlement—like she thinks she can play me like a baby grand piano just because her slender little fingers know exactly where to push.

She makes my blood boil and my mouth flood with saliva.

I do want to fucking taste her.

But not on her terms.

On mine.

“You little slut,” I snarl back at her. I pull her hips out from under her, placing her where I want. “You still think you’re in control here, don’t you?”

There’s a grin on my lips now, and let me tell you—it’s not a nice one. This little princess followed the trail of crumbs I left for her, thinking that she could have her cake and eat it too.

Now it’s time she learned her place.

“I am in control,” she tells me, moving her hips toward my mouth in a way that would make a lesser man beg for mercy, lose his mind, and thank her for the privilege.

It only makes me fucking laugh.

“Is that what you think?”

I hook my fingers around her panties, tugging them down off her broad, goddess hips.

Pink lace La Perlas. And I wasn’t kidding earlier.

They’re practically fucking dripping, they’re so soaked.

“It’s what I know,” she tells me, all haughty and smug as I take her panties in my fist and raise them to my nose. “Think about it, handsome. Which one of us is on our knees sniffing panties, and which one of us is sitting pretty on the throne?”

I feel a growl rise in the back of my throat as I look up at her darkly. The sweet musk of her cunt is in the air, and the source is right here before me, ripe for the taking.

And I’m a man of my word.

I fucking take it.

In one swift motion, I slip two fingers between her hot, slick pussy lips and force them so deep into her cunt. Her sexy fucking mouth gapes open in a gasp.

And those pretty pink La Perlas, soaked and dripping with her cum?

I shove them between her lips so maybe she’ll shut the fuck up for once.

“You’re about to learn a valuable lesson, beautiful.”

My fingers twitch inside the tight, hot pink of her cunt while the pink of her panties pokes out between her lips. “It doesn’t matter if I’m on my knees or you’re tied to my fucking bed—I’m in charge.”