I’d never said those words to a man. Not even to Rick. I mean, I’d felt physical attraction with Rick at first, when it was all new, but in comparison to this . . .

The difference was like striking a flint to spark a fire compared to flipping a switch and igniting a blaze. I’d never experienced this living thing rushing under my skin, needing physical contact. Needing it specifically from him.

I burned for Jaxxon. He consumed and overwhelmed me in a sexy, erotic, and comforting way all at once—a tornado threatening my perfect, secure world.

“You want dessert?” he asked, standing between my legs, his muscled thighs like rocks against my calves. All I could do was stare up at him, thinking my coworkers were dead on. He’d kill it as a cover model—the object of women’s fantasies for decades to come. Jaxxon’s image and a vibrator could probably save marriages across the globe.

The problem I was having? He was intense and uncensored. Humorous and playful, yes, but it was a trade-off. He seemed to want inside me—where the dark things lived. Where my outer illusions gave way to true horror. A horror I didn’t want him to see.

He let go of my hands, but didn’t move. Working around me, he opened containers of Wicked Chocolate Cake, fresh berries, and cream before grabbing a fork. “Chocolate your favorite?”

“Isn’t it everyone’s?” Like I was sure the vast majority of the female population did, I felt chocolate was pretty much close to, if not better than sex. The sex I’d had so far, at least.

“Chocolate, caramel, or pralines and cream ice cream,” I said, trying not to get too lost in my head, which was guaranteed to fuck this up if left unchecked.

I focused on his hands while he worked. They were large and rough. Tanned, strong, and well-manicured, despite the labor I knew they’d seen. I couldn’t stop thinking about what they might feel like on my skin, skimming along my breasts, rubbing over my nipples . . .

“I’ll remember that,” he said, ripping me out of my uncharacteristic musings.

Jaxxon carried himself with a confidence and surety I found compelling and intensely sexual. He had a magnetism I couldn’t seem to ignore. There was no awkwardness to him, which I usually associated with large men.

Was he that way in bed?

Jesus, God! Who are you?

A silver glint in front of my face snapped my focus back to him. A fork full of chocolate cake and whipped cream hovered above my lips.

He nodded at my mouth.

“What?” I leaned back, unsure of what he wanted.

“Open.” His gaze never wavered from my lips.

Suddenly, I forgot how to breathe. “Uhh . . . ” I huffed and shook my head. “I can do that myself.” I reached for the fork.

Then he pulled back before I could grab it. “I’m well aware. Open.” He dabbed the whipped cream against the seam of my mouth.

The airy, sugary confection slipped between my lips and teased my taste buds, eliciting a moan that sounded nothing like me. I ran my tongue over the sweet, fluffy cream. Oh my God, how long had it been since I’d had real whipped cream?

“Hasn’t anyone ever taken care of you?” He wrapped his free hand around my nape and drew me toward him.

“Nobody’s ever fed me before, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“That’s not what I’m asking.” He pressed the tines of the fork against my bottom lip, adding a little pressure.

Maybe it was the soft cadence of his voice, which lulled me into some sort of trance. Maybe it was because he was insanely gorgeous and standing between my legs. Whatever it was, I couldn’t stop myself from parting my lips farther to take what he offered.

When I met his eyes, my breathing stopped. Intensity and want smoldered there and I wanted to lose myself in it, in him. He wanted me and in this moment, I wanted him in a way I’d never wanted anything.

“That mouth . . . ” He smirked, still staring at my lips as he took a forkful himself. “Goddamn. That shit’s good.”

“Right?”

Taking a strawberry, he dipped it in the cream and bit into the white-coated fruit. A drizzle of pink juice slid down the side of his mouth. I grabbed the edge of the counter harder, watching it disappear into his tightly trimmed beard and fighting the urge to lick it off.

He hunched over away from me with a hand under his mouth. “Son-of-a-bitch.” He chuckled. “Messy as hell, but you gotta try this.”

My thighs quivered at the sight of his full, wet lips. Knowing if I kissed him, he’d taste like strawberries, chocolate, and whipped cream rattled something deep inside of me loose. My breasts grew heavier and throbbed against the material of my dress.

This was what want felt like.

I took one of the larger raspberries and generously coated it with whipped cream. When I lifted my hand, he shackled my wrist and brought it to his mouth. He took the berry and my fingers between his lips, his thumb drawing small circles on my wrist. The wet heat of his mouth, the strong pressure of his tongue against the pads of my fingers made the fabric of my gown tighten even more.

He removed them slowly with a wicked grin and wrapped both my arms up around his neck with a chuckle. “Easy, babe. Hug me.”

Him pulling my fingers from his mouth was the most erotic thing I’d ever experienced, and hug him I did. It was closer to strangling, as if I wouldn’t get another chance to do this. I constantly fought this innate need I had to be held, tight. With Jaxxon, I could stay against his rock-hard chest as long as he’d let me.

My world shifted at the soft brush of his lips along the slope of my neck. I locked my forearms and held him tighter, not wanting to let go, and yet curious . . .

“Shhh,” he whispered against my skin. “No pressure, baby.”

But I wanted pressure. I’d lived an entire lifetime not trusting, hiding, avoiding, feeling empty . . . and convincing myself I didn’t need more. I’d been married to a man who hadn’t wanted me. This one appeared to want to be with me, and I found myself battling not to give in.

All thought disappeared when he slid his hands under the sides of my dress. With his arms wrapped around me, he skimmed fingers along the sides of my ribs. I tucked my face into his neck, taking in his clean, pine and wintery scent.

This dress didn’t allow for a bra, but I did have panties on—panties that were now saturated and plastered to every curve and crevice between my thighs. I squirmed on top of the counter, moving closer to him, trying to alleviate some of the unfamiliar sensation.

I needed closer.

He smelled so damn good. I wanted to feel his skin against mine. I wanted to see him, touch him. Shoving my hands under his collar, I pulled out his ponytail. “Can I take it out?”

“Take it out,” he demanded against my skin, the tip of his nose brushing along my neck.

As I took a deep breath, my chest rose and pressed harder against his. I bit back the groan threatening to spill from my mouth.

I unraveled the band from his hair and slid both hands into his locks. Thick and soft, they fell like heavy silk over my wrists. I tilted my head against his as Jaxx’s dark-blond mane flowed through my fingers. Taking a fistful at the top of his head and one at the bottom, I clung to him.

His groan against my neck vibrated down into my chest. “Fuck, your hands feel good.”

The lightest touch of his fingers grazed along the swells of my breasts. I inhaled at the sharp pain constricting my nipples and inched closer to him, the pressure of his chest both relieving and intensifying the ache. His lips trailed an inferno down my neck. I let my mouth fall open and my head drop back, giving him more access.

As I lifted my legs along his sides, he pulled his hands from my dress and wrapped them around my calves, guiding them around his waist. My core pressed flush against his unquestionably hard length.

“Jesus,” I sighed against his ear and fastened my arms around his shoulders. Every inch of him was so hard. So perfect. “What are you doing to me?”

“Anything you want,” he rumbled and pushed his hands through my hair, holding our foreheads together before dropping both hands to my ass. “Hold on to me,” he ground out, and lifted me up. Spinning me around, he set me down on my kitchen island, which was lower than the counter.

With a slowness I was convinced would kill me, he supported my back and laid me down, before sliding his hands under my knees and drawing me to the edge of the counter. He leaned over me on his elbows, our mouths inches apart. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” I managed to get out.

He lightly brushed his lips over mine, and the muscles in my thighs and abdomen jumped at the contact. With his teeth, he gently tugged on my bottom lip before taking it between his and sucking it into his mouth.

I groaned at the taste of chocolate, cream, and his own natural flavor.

“Fuck. I’ve wanted to do that since I pulled you off that leg press.”

His husky voice sent electric jolts throughout my body, making me quiver.

Over and over he teased at my lips, kissing one then the other, nipping with his teeth. He slid his tongue along the seam of my mouth and pulled back.

No! Don’t stop. I had never been so lost in sensation, in feeling, that I didn’t put my own self-preservation first, which was the reaction he had on me. I anchored an arm around his neck not letting him pull too far from me. “Jaxx . . . kiss me. Please.”

He fisted my hair in both hands and slammed his mouth over mine without another word. There was no sweetness to his kiss. No hesitance—just pure heat and unleashed aggression. Jaxx thrust his tongue between my lips, leaving me no choice but to open to him, as if he owned my mouth, as if I belonged to him. His kiss felt like a claim.

I matched my rhythm to the long and slow sweeps of his tongue, intensifying the unbearable pulsing between my thighs. I met him stroke for stroke, tilting my head to give him more access to my mouth. I plunged my hands into his hair, holding his face to me, allowing him to deepen the kiss.

He groaned and pulled back. “Jacket’s gotta go, baby.”

Mesmerized, I pushed my way up from the counter as he straightened. “Can I do it?” I’d never undressed a man myself. When it came to sex, Rick had just shuffled and pulled clothing out of the way to get the correct parts free, and it always happened in the dark. Even when I’d tried, he’d push my hands away and do it himself.

The lights in my kitchen were dimmed just enough so I could see every inch of him. If Adonis decided to descend to Earth and needed a human host, he would’ve picked Jaxxon.

He studied my face for a second and his brows knit. “All you, sugar.”

I slid my hands under the lapels of his jacket and into the arms. I took my time, memorizing the huge muscles of his shoulders as they flexed and pulsed under my touch. I pushed it off to the ground. The olive green shirt he wore under the jacket fit him perfectly, but I needed it gone. I wanted skin, and all that muscle against me.

Our gazes met as I reached up to undo his tie.

His steady hands covered my trembling ones. He brought both my hands to his mouth and kissed the tops before setting them on my lap. Making quick work of the tie, he unbuttoned the first few buttons and brought my hands back up to the top of his shirt.

I skimmed my fingers to the center of the shirt and unbuttoned each small button until the sides hung free. When I pushed the material off his shoulders and down his arms, I got held up trying to tug the shirt off over his hands, and he laughed.

“Dress shirt, babe. Buttons on the cuffs.” He held up his hands, which were caught in the shirtsleeves.

My face heated and I scrunched the shirt over one hand to get to the smaller buttons on his cuffs. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. Just handle this, huh?” He kissed my forehead as I worked.

Finally free of the shirt, I couldn’t help just staring at the expanse of his chest against the white tank he wore underneath. It hugged his torso, emphasizing every pec and ab disappearing into the top of his black dress pants, and my eyes followed the trail.

When my hands stopped moving, he reached behind his back and pulled the tank over his head. He settled both hands on the counter, on either side of me, putting our faces inches apart. His eyes met mine and he sighed through a sexy grin. “What about me scares you, Valentina?”

“I—nothing. I’m not afraid of you.”

His eyes searched mine. “I’m gonna ask one thing of you. Don’t lie to me. Don’t keep shit from me, especially when it comes to sex or anything physical, now that I know some of your past. If you can’t answer, say it. I’ll respect it. But don’t lie to me. I know I scare you in some way, or is it the thought of sex that freaks you out?”

His size no longer intimidated me. He’d proven time and time again that he’d never hurt me physically, and I trusted my instinct. It had been over four years for me. “Maybe the sex?”

“That’s a question, baby. Not an answer.” He moved a stray hair off my forehead.

Nervous? Scared? Performance anxiety? Take your pick. They were all in play right now—no maybe about it. “It’s been a long time for me. I—I don’t want you to see me without clothes on. I told you why. Besides that, you’re a big man. From the looks of, ah, you, I’m assuming that goes for the rest of you too.”

Jaxx rested his chin on top of my head, chuckling softly. “Anyone ever tell you you’re good on the ego?”

“Jaxx, I’m serious.”

He held my face between his hands and kissed the top of my head. “I know you are. Keep on whatever you want. I want all of you, sugar, but I’m not going to push you. I want to see all of you, but if you’re not ready, I can work around what makes you uncomfortable for now.”

For now? More like forever.

I snapped my head up to drill that point home—and smacked his chin on the way up. “Ohhh, God! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” With ginger fingers, I touched the red spot, cringing. “Are you okay? Oh, Jaxx. Shit!”

He chuckled and moved his jaw around. “Still works. You’re not gonna break me.”

“Why?” I let my hands fall to my sides. This wasn’t me. I wasn’t sexy. “Why are you making concessions for me? You could be with anyone—”

Gripping my chin in one hand, he forced me to meet his eyes. “Because I want you. Unless you tell me to stay the fuck away from you, I’m not going anywhere.” He searched my face for a second, then nodded as if a decision had been made. “Into the living room with you.”

Before I could say anything, he picked me up like a damn bride, carried me into the living room, and sat down on my couch, the only light spilling out of the kitchen behind us. Once he settled, he lifted me from the waist so that I could straddle his lap and face him. “Better?”

“Yes.” I trailed my fingers along his neck, down his solid chest, splitting them when I came to his tight nipples and down to his abdominal muscles. With just a dusting of hair on his chest, his abs were smooth and jumped under my touch.

“You’re hands are so fuckin’ soft.” He massaged my shoulders.

I collapsed into him and closed my eyes, committing his touch to memory. Four years without physical contact, yet I’d never realized how lonely I was until now, sitting astride his lap with his hands on me. I was like a dried up well, empty for centuries, being filled for the first time.

I rested my forehead against his, wanting him so bad and knowing this . . . thing between us could not last for the long haul.

He moved his hands to my back and unhooked the chain holding the back of my gown together. As the sides loosened and fell open, my muscles strung tight, but I stayed where I was.

Resting his hands on my shoulders again, he slipped his fingers under the sides of the loosened sleeves. “Look at me, sugar.”

I leaned back enough to see his face and crossed my arms over my chest, which earned me the shit-eating grin that both got under my skin and made me wet as hell.

With his eyes locked to mine, he inched the top of my dress down my arms, causing my breasts to push up over the neckline.

“When’s the last time you came?”

I couldn’t stop my mouth from falling open. He wrapped his hands around my wrists, his fingers warming my overheated skin. “I think that’s a bit personal.”

“Sweetness, we’re about to get very fuckin’ personal. You’re straddling me. I can feel how turned on you are, and I’m trying not to freak you out. It’s a legitimate question, given what you’ve told me.” He kept his hold loose, but still held onto me.

When I looked down at our hands, my vision blurred . . .

Cuffs. Leather cuffs. Metal table. The images flashed like slides in an old movie reel and I jerked away from him on a gasp.

“Valentina!” My name came out in such a hard tone it jolted me right out of the dark place. His thumbs dug into the pulse points of my wrists, before I fell back. “Where’d you go, sugar?” His eyes searched mine, the concern visible even in the dim light. “You okay?”

I gave a quick nod. Fast, it was so fast, so clear—but enough . . .

No! Not now . . . Please, not now!

“You sure?” Letting go of my wrists, he brought both hands to the back of my head.

“Mmm-hmm. Yes.” I covered his hands with mine and interlocked our fingers, holding onto him like a lifeline.

“When, baby?”

“I—I don’t remember.”

Please, Jaxxon. Please, take it away . . .

He nodded. “Then that’s way too long.” He pulled me against him.

I wedged my arms between the back of his head and the cushions. The warmth of his bare skin, the strength of his huge arms, transferred to me as I pressed my body harder against his.

For a while, he simply held me. When my breathing regulated and the shock of the memory waned, the contentment to simply be held faded. His erection lay pressed against my throbbing clit. A simmering heat built in my core and spread outwards. I buried my face against his neck, brushing my lips under the tender part of his ear, lightly at first, but when he started rubbing my bare back with firmer, more aggressive strokes I sat up in his lap.

No more preamble needed, he slid the top of my dress down my arms, dragging the material between our bodies. The seam of the neckline scraped over my swollen nipples. I inhaled quickly at the twinge of pain, and embraced the pleasure it left behind.

“You good, sugar?”

His breath against my ear made the ache between my legs worse. “Yes,” I said, kissing down the slope of his neck and running my hands down his arms.

A guttural sound rumbled through his chest. “You’re gonna fucking kill me. Lean back.”

My chest wasn’t scarred, so I wasn’t worried about him seeing the top half of me. I anchored my hands on his chest and slowly pushed back. It was too dark for him to see the bite mark under my right breast.

He settled his hands on my hips and watched me with the strangest expression on his face. If I didn’t know better, I’d have guessed sadness, and maybe a little reverence. “You have no idea how beautiful you are, do you?” he asked, his eyes searching mine.

Beautiful . . . The heat started in my face and flowed down my now fully exposed chest. I raised my hands, but he caught them in his before they landed over my face.

“Don’t. You’re gorgeous.” He pulled my hands on either side of his head and rested them against the back of the couch. “Keep them there for me.” Jaxx’s eyes never left mine. He skimmed a hand up the side of my waist and over my rib cage to rest along the side of my right breast. Strumming his thumb over the swell, he circled to my areola and a flood of wetness once again coated my panties. My breath caught in my throat as he raised that hand to my lips.

“Open your mouth.”

I did, and he gently placed his thumb inside against my tongue. Near passing the hell out, I closed my lips around him and ran my tongue over the pad of his thumb.

“That, right there, is a beautiful fucking sight.” He pulled it from my lips and dropped it down. Running his wet thumb around my breast, he circled closer to my nipple.

I fidgeted in his lap, pushing closer to him, thighs trembling, and dropped my head back with a moan as he finally ran that wet thumb right over my aching nipple.

“You want more?” When I nodded, he wrapped his other arm around my back and jerked me into him, slamming his cock right up against the place I wanted him most. In one smooth motion, he wedged a hand under my ass, lifting me, and replaced his thumb with his mouth.

“Yes, Jaxx,” I stammered. “You feel . . . so good.”

The pictures on my wall behind the couch blurred with each delicious stroke of his tongue. He licked at my engorged nipple over and over in slow sweeps, only to change up and tease with light flicks. A draft chilled my flesh as he blew over my hot skin. When I began to shake, he covered the entire area with his mouth and sucked hard. I drove my hips against his, unable to stop the burn between my legs, and fisted my hands in his hair, holding him to me.

I panted at the combination of his tongue rubbing against my nipple and the warm pressure of sucking. I pulled his head up and kissed him, unable to get my lips against his fast enough. His tongue penetrated my mouth and I opened wider for him. He thrust into my mouth hard, our tongues caressing and stroking, teasing, our teeth knocking together as if we both needed to get closer to each other.

Shoving one hand in my hair, he tilted my head to the side, deepening the kiss. The long, hungry strokes of his tongue against mine mimicked the ones he’d lavished on my breast. I wanted his mouth everywhere at once. On my nipple, in my mouth . . . on my clit. Every fantasy I’d never allowed myself to have, flooded my head all at once.

When one of his hands gripped the bottom of my dress and pushed it up my thighs, I froze. He pulled back, his eyes darting back and forth between mine. “Talk, baby.”

He couldn’t see them.

I met his confused gaze. “You—you can’t take the dress all the way off.” I dragged the right side of my dress down over the damaged skin on my thigh.

He nudged my lips with his nose before moving in to kiss me. “Don’t need it off. Just need it up.” He moved his hand to cover mine.

My breath caught when he focused on my right leg. “Jaxx—”

Meeting my gaze, he palmed my cheek with his free hand. “Hon, the lights are barely on. I can’t see anything. All night long, your soft skin’s been driving me fuckin’ insane. Will you let me touch you?”

It was a question, but not . . .

And I couldn’t bring myself to stop him. When I lightened my grip on the dress, he moved his hand down just above my knee to the end of the scar. With two fingers, he traced the path of it up around my inner thigh to where my hand rested on top of my dress, stopping his progress. He repeated the motion over and over, his eyes never leaving mine, until I grew comfortable with his touch.

I studied his face, watching his eyes, paying attention to any sign of disgust or repulsion, but I saw nothing. Nothing except the hungry look he’d had before he laid a hand on me.

“Most of us have scars, baby—some of us wear ‘em on the outside, and others on the inside. This isn’t who you are.” He kept up the slow, languid trail along my damaged skin. Each time he came to the top of my inner thigh, he inched a little farther up, under my hand. “It doesn’t define you or impair how gorgeous you are to me. Life happened and it left its fuckin’ mark. Happens to the best of us.”

He ran the thumb of his other hand along my cheek as he spoke, and his voice worked like one hell of a muscle relaxer, because I finally let out the breath I’d been holding and rested both hands on his chest, allowing him full access to me.

With a flick of his wrist, he flung the sides out so the dress hung over my hips, exposing the damp black lace covering my cleft.

Running a finger over his wet lip, I leaned into him, brushing my lips teasingly over his, until he groaned and pulled me against him.

“You feel so goddamn good, sugar.” He emphasized the words by pushing his rigid shaft right up against my throbbing slit.

Everything in me craved him and I couldn’t settle down. I set my forehead against his. “Wait,” I huffed, yet couldn’t help digging my fingers into his shoulders.

“Get out of your head, baby.” Putting his hands on my hips, he scooted me back a little, creating enough space to get his hand in between us. “Kiss me,” he demanded before wrapping my hair around his fist and pulling my face to his.

I tilted my head and slammed my lips over his, because he wasn’t wrong. My head was my worst enemy. I sucked his bottom lip between mine until he opened and met my tongue with his. He seduced my lips, my mouth, skillfully teased his tongue in and out in a way that made me yearn for a different kind of slide in a different place.

The hand in my hair tightened. I opened wider for him, took him inside me and savored the taste of him—chocolate and cream, he tasted of chocolate and cream.

The slight brush of his finger over my clit had me jerking up fast and pushing my hands against his shoulders. A tempered breath tickled my cheek in a long rush as he used my hair to pull my forehead to his.

“Valentina . . . Make the call. Doesn’t have to be tonight.”

I kept my forehead pressed to his and closed my eyes. “Okay,” I breathed the word. “Yes.”

He dropped the hand in my hair down to the top of my other thigh and with both thumbs rubbed the hollows between my inner thighs and my labia. “Then trust me.”

My breathing labored faster and with every fragmented breath, my secure world dropped away. Only the touch of his thumbs inching closer to my center mattered. “Jaxx—”

“Relax,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.”

His thumbs teased me through the material of my panties. Long, sure strokes up and down until my thigh muscles quivered. I buried my face in the space between his neck and shoulder and bit down. If I didn’t, I might have begged him to touch me.

“Mmm, fuck.” His low growl reverberated over my ear. “You won’t hurt me, do what you gotta do, but stay with me.” This time, he rubbed his thumb right over my clit. Tiny, barely there circles over the wet lace.

Reaching behind me, I grabbed his knees and pushed my lower body into him.

“Ah, baby, you’re so fuckin’ wet,” he said, slipping a finger inside the soaked material. “Goddamn beautiful.”

At the slide of his finger through my wet lips, I moaned and threw my head back, for once, allowing myself physical pleasure. I’d deal with the guilt and the shame tomorrow. Right now, the strong slide of his finger around my sensitive bud negated all coherent thought.

“That’s it. Move for me, sugar.”

I followed the rhythm he set, arching my hips up as he stroked down, lowering them as he pushed up through the wet folds, still gentle, still a soft caress. “Jaxxon . . . ”

“Tell me what you want,” he demanded, still stroking me, but not touching where I needed him.

I bit my lip so hard a metallic taste filled my mouth. “I—I need more.”

He didn’t answer me, but gave a strong yank on the sides of my panties. Next thing I knew, he slid the fabric out from under me and yanked me against him. “Hug me tight.” He stood up with me and rearranged us on the couch.

At first, I thought he meant to lie on top of me, and I pulled my legs up, giving him room, but he sat facing me. He wedged one of my legs between him and the back of the couch while setting the other over his on the opposite side, opening me up to him. No more hiding. No way to cover up. My dress pooled right above my pubic bone, keeping me covered.

Before modesty had a chance to kick in, he licked his thumb and brought it directly down on my clit. I gasped, arched my back off the couch, and pressed the leg over his hip tighter around his back.

“Fuck me, you’re perfect.” He spread my lips apart with two fingers, while circling my clit in steady, wet strokes.

I should have been horrified, but I wasn’t. I just needed.

I slapped a hand over my mouth to keep from making any noise. He touched me so perfectly—firm, but gentle, teasing, yet giving. Around and around. Up and down, he rubbed around and to the side of my clit. “Please,” I groaned. “Please . . . touch me.”

He circled a gentle finger around my entrance. “Careful, baby. I could get used to making you beg.” And with that, he smoothly slid a finger inside me to the knuckle. “Jesus, you’re fucking tight—so warm.”

I gasped as he worked a slow finger in and out of my body, circling my cleft with his thumb.

When he added a second finger, my body coated them both with a fresh round of lubrication. “Oh. Jaxx . . . please,” I murmured.

He pressed down on my clit for a second before rubbing the bundle of nerves with a firm pressure. “Yes . . . ” I moaned to him.

“Feel, sugar. Feel for me.”

I arched my back farther off the couch and threw my arms over my head, using the armrest of the couch to push my body into him. “Please, please don’t stop.”

“Not a fuckin’ chance.” Dragging his fingers in and out of my body, he moved his thumb down to my opening and coated it with my arousal. Changing his rhythm, he pushed his two fingers inside me against the top wall. I felt full, edgy, but so right.

He spread my lips farther apart with his other hand, stroking his wet thumb right over my clit this time. On a sharp inhale, I relaxed into him. He dragged it up and down over my cleft while he stroked inside my body.

Unable to hold back any longer, I let out a long moan. My body undulated in a way it never had before. Like it recognized him, like it only responded to him. I panted as he rubbed faster, a little harder, then pressed down hard on my clit before resuming the delicious strokes.

He thrust deeper, dragging his fingers across the sensitive spot inside me on the way out. Every. Single. Time.

“You’re close, baby. Don’t fight it.”

The man was a fucking sexual magician. The throbbing in my lower body built, spread, and threatened to consume me. My chest convulsed as an uncontrollable shaking rippled through every muscle. I arched up higher, pushed into him farther. I’d lost complete control over my body.

“Come, sugar. I got you.”

The words, spoken soft, but insistent vaulted me beyond anything I’d ever experienced before. The aching in my clit pulsed against his finger with each stroke, until my world exploded in a medley of bright colors. My throbbing channel contracted around his fingers, pulling them in deeper, holding him inside me.

“Jaxxon!” I screamed into my own hands. “Oh—God!”

He shackled both wrists and yanked me up to straddle him once again. My soaking wet core pressed tight against his cock through his pants. I flung my arms around his shoulders and buried my face in his neck, panting against his skin.

“Hey, look at me,” he said, trying to pull me back.

But I held tight. So tight.

“Eyes, baby.” He fisted my hair on both sides of my head and forced me to break contact.

My chest heaved as I tried to catch my breath. I could only stare at him. I had no words. Nothing. He’d changed my life—he’d made me feel like a woman, like a normal woman.

I collapsed into myself, locked my arms around my chest and leaned my head against his shoulder.

He held me, tight. When I tried to move off of him, he tightened his hold. “Where are you going?” His voice was hard, stern.

I glanced down between us. Mortified. “Your . . . pants.”

Pulling me flush against him, he locked his arms around my back. “Fuck my pants. Did I hurt you?”

I lifted my eyes to him and captured his face between my hands. “You didn’t hurt me. Not at all. I . . . You—” I sighed and shook my head.

“Okay.” He gave a soft chuckle. “I get it. Lay with me for a little bit, before I leave.”

“You don’t have to leave.” I slid to the side of him, my thigh rubbing over his still hard length. Oh shit!” I would have jumped up if he hadn’t held onto me. “You’re still—”

His laughter exploded and echoed through my living room. “Baby, please calm down. Don’t worry about me. Get over here.” Pulling me to his chest, he took me with him as he lay down on my couch and scrunched a pillow under his head.

We lay face to face and I traced a finger over his lips, unable to help myself.

Reaching up, he covered my hand with his and lay a chaste kiss on the top of it.

“I—I don’t want you to hurt.” And I really wanted a chance to—explore him.

He kissed my forehead and pulled me up so we were nose to nose. “Nothing a cold shower won’t take care of.”

“Jaxxon!”

“I’m kidding. Not really.” He chuckled. “Tonight was for you. I don’t need anything from you. I want something from you, yes, but I don’t need it this second.”

My thoughts jumbled as he pulled my leg over his and kissed my nose. “You’re fucking gorgeous when you come.” He bent to kiss my mouth and spoke against my lips, “You’ll come harder when I do it with my tongue.”

The tops of my thighs dampened with each seductive word. The way he spoke to me. The language he used. How he told me what he was going to do. All of it turned me inside out, when it should have made me want to run. But it didn’t—it made me crave him and everything he said. And that was why I feared him—I couldn’t fall in love with Jaxxon.

After what I’d experienced tonight, I realized I might have a genuine problem making sure I stayed grounded in reality.