We’re in a luxurious wine bar near the office, and it’s well past lunchtime. A few stragglers hang out at tables, but in our private corner only the quiet hum of classical music in the background distracts us. I study my glass, aware I’ve drunk half a bottle of Merlot and already feeling the buzz.

My mind wanders back to the feel of Mason’s mouth against my vulva, the way he sucked me to climax in his office last week—and then days later left me on the verge of orgasm. Warmth spreads between my thighs. Sex with Mason consumes my thoughts, leaving me in a constant state of arousal. It’s dizzying.

A slow flutter begins at my belly and dips between my legs.

He stands, tosses a few bills on the table, and holds out his hand. “Come.”

The innuendo makes my pulse leap. “That’s almost a given at this point, but we’re not quite there yet,” I say, smirking. The twinkle in his eye suggests we’re not far off.

Mason’s car is waiting for us outside the restaurant, and I climb into the back seat. Soft music pulses through the speakers. I settle in and close my eyes, breathing in the familiar scents that are wholly Mason.

His hand slides to my bare knee.

I shift my leg closer, subtly uncrossing my ankles, widening the space between my thighs. Mason’s fingers inch toward my crotch, the warmth of his palm flattening the goose bumps that prickle along my skin. He pauses.

And then my breath hitches as his hand begins to move again, tracking inwards toward my panties. His fingertips brush against the flimsy, damp lace.

I’m acutely aware of our driver in the front seat, and clench my thighs in playful protest. What can he see in the rearview mirror? Mason deftly pries my legs apart, and pulls back my underwear to reveal the soft folds of my pussy. His thumb glides along the slit.

“Mason,” I say, voice hushed, anxious.

“Shhh,” he whispers, breath hot against my throat. He pinches my clitoris between his thumb and forefinger and squeezes. “Just relax.”

Impossible with his hand stuffed down my underwear.

He leans over and kisses my earlobe before taking it between his teeth. Beneath my clothing, he rolls my clit from side to side.

An unexpected noise of approval purrs from the back of my throat. I fight to clench every muscle from the swiftly mounting climax, but his fingers masterfully deflect my efforts. Sweat beads between my breasts.

Mason slips two fingers inside me, keeping his thumb pressed against the tight nub of my sex. “Jesus,” I gasp.

He smiles at me sexily and withdraws his fingers, using them now to draw careful circles around my clit and my wet pussy lips. The tenderness brings me over the edge.

An intense orgasm crests through me like a huge descending wave. I pant in short, desperate breaths, grasping the edge of the seat like a vise. My hips buck and I bite down on my lip to stop from crying out. Mason continues to caress my pussy until the last of my climax fades. Face hot with embarrassment, I burrow into his shoulder. “Fuck me,” I say, with a nervous laugh.

He buries his head in my hair. “Oh yes, Miss Landers,” he says. “I certainly intend to. And that is a reward for your patience.”

* * *

Mason leads me up to his penthouse, his body pressed against mine on the slow up the elevator.

I can feel his erection nestling snugly between my backside, and a fresh wave of arousal washes over me. Shifting my hips, I swirl my ass against his groin.

“You naughty girl,” he says, his breath a whisper against my neck.

I imagine his cock forging into me, and my stomach twists. His hand slides up the back of my thigh, shifting my skirt to expose my backside. He caresses my flesh and then flattens his palm across my flesh. A stinging sensation tingles down between my legs.

In one swift motion, he reaches around and pulls me up against him, his fingers on my crotch, warm through the material of the skirt. His mouth hovers over my ear. “I have every mind to bend you over and fuck you right here,” he says.

My pulse thrums in my ears.

I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror, scarcely recognizing the flushed-face girl that stares back at me. My eyes are glassy with desire, lips swollen with the need to be kissed.

The elevator pings and the door swooshes open. We spill into the hallway. Mason’s hands are all over me, un-tucking my blouse, gliding across my hips, my stomach, my breasts. We move in a frenzy to the door of his suite, and he pins me against the wall, hands up over my head. His eyes are deep blue, swimming with lust, and I revel in that power.

“You are so God damn sexy,” he says.

The low growl of his voice stirs in my belly, and a response catches in my throat.

Mason’s mouth covers mine, desperation seeming to seep from his very core. His lips and tongue move with fervor. I grind up against his cock, unable to fully touch him with his hands tight against my wrists.

“Inside,” he says, against my lips.

As always, I submit without protest, my body vibrating with restless anticipation.