“Oh honey.” Celeste greets me with a hug. Andy, always the more practical of our group, skips the hug in favor of ordering me a double margarita, “heavy on the ta-kill-ya,” he adds, our little in-joke with the bartender at our favorite corner dive.

I huddle into the booth between them. We sit in this corner booth every time we come here, which is probably a lot more often than any of us would care to admit.

I take a long gulp of the margarita before I feel ready to even meet their eyes.

“Tell us everything,” Andy prompts, so I do. I let it all out. Everything from the moment Zayne fought off that creepy stalker I’d been on a date with last week, down to the moment just half an hour ago when I passed him in the lobby and kept right on walking.

“Good for you,” Andy tells me on that last bit, patting my arm as I take another swig of my drink. Spilling my guts is thirsty-making work.

“It doesn’t feel good,” I sigh. “It feels like I got duped again. Zayne is just another playboy, just like that stalker he fought off, only with a slightly better game.”

“At least you got a few good lays out of him?” Celeste, ever the optimist, offers that nugget of wisdom before she finishes off what I’m guessing is not her first margarita.

I groan. “Yeah, but at what cost? That photo is ruining me.”

“It’ll blow over.” Andy shakes his head. “No way Stacy is going to lose such a great employee over something stupid like this. She just had to ask you to stay out of the office for a while to appease the higher-ups, you’ll see. In no time at all she’ll be begging you to come back and this all will be a stupid mistake we can laugh about a few months down the line.”

I glare at him.

“Okay, a few years maybe,” he amends. “But honestly, Clove, it’ll be fine. The internet has a short attention span. Those creepy guys will quit calling soon.”

In response, I shove my phone at him. 32 more missed texts while we’ve been sitting here alone. I watch Andy scroll through some of them and cringe. Then his eyes light up, and before I know it, he’s tapping away on my screen.

“What are you doing?” I ask, nervous, and lean toward him. He pulls the phone away, just long enough to tap a few more times.

“Taking care of at least some of your problems,” he replies. Then he turns the phone around to show me, and I have to bite back a laugh.

He just sent dick pics back to all of the creepy dudes sexting me. Not just any dick pics either, but what appear to be the largest dick he could find online, complete with rainbow-dyed pubes.

I sigh and accept the phone with a nod of thanks.

Celeste leans over to wrap an arm around my shoulders. “Andy’s right. As long as you make sure no more photos leak out…”

I snort. “Yeah, no chance of that ever again. I’ve learned my lesson.” I groan.

“Then, this will blow over eventually. People will get bored and forget about it. And who knows, maybe Zayne will do the right thing and tell you the truth eventually.”

“No chance of that either,” I mutter.

“I don’t know.” Celeste purses her lips. “He sounds like he’s a decent guy, before all this shit anyway.”

“But if he doesn’t tell you what the hell is going on, do not give him the time of day ever again,” Andy butts in. “He owes you an explanation, and if he can’t man up and deliver, then you need to move the hell on to greener pastures.”

“Yeah, but this pasture lives upstairs and works right in my path to work,” I mutter.

“So? That sounds like his problem, not yours.” Andy shakes his head. “Just rise above it. He doesn’t have to bother you unless you let him.”

I nod. It’s good advice. Wise. So why doesn’t it sit right in my stomach? Why do I still feel so worried about all of this?

The topic shifts to work problems, with Celeste and Andy filling me in on all the other boring day-to-day dilemmas that I missed since being sent home this morning like a naughty student headed to the principal’s office. For a while, it’s nice. A good distraction. Normal problems that normal people have, which I’d be dealing with if I didn’t have such a colossal issue weighing me down instead.

But there’s only so much distraction I can take before I have to face reality again. That moment arrives a hell of a lot sooner than I’d like it to when we all lean around to the bar to pay our tabs, down our last margaritas, and head our separate ways.

“I’ll see you guys…” I pause, then bite my lip. I don’t even know when I’ll see them next. I don’t know when I’ll be allowed back into the office again, or how long it’ll be before I can get back to my career and the things that truly matter in my life.

Andy pats my shoulder. “Friday,” he promises. “Happy Hour still stands, no matter what else is going on.”

I force myself to nod and smile. Right. “Friday,” I agree, even though it sounds like a death sentence. If I don’t see them until Friday, that means I haven’t been allowed to work until Friday, which means that this whole mess is still dragging on. That’s more than I can handle right now.

But I keep that forced, fixed smile on my face as I bid my friends farewell and catch my train back uptown. Andy is right. There’s nothing else I can do right now but rise above.

* * *

Zayne isn’t behind the desk when I get back. He’s standing at the doors, opening them for every person who enters the building. Normally the doormen only do that when it’s pouring down rain or when high winds are whipping along the street, making it difficult for residents to peel open the doors themselves while negotiating heavy coats and umbrellas.

The reason he’s being so extra nice today becomes clear the minute I step up to the building, and he rests a hand on the doorknob, not opening it for me yet, barring my path.

“Clove, you’re right,” he says, all in a rush.

I cross my arms and lean on one leg, catching his eyes as I wait.

“I should’ve been more straightforward with you. I should’ve warned you right away, and when all this hit the fan, I should’ve explained what was going on. Let me do that now. Tonight. Please?”

I raise an eyebrow.

“I’ll cook,” he adds. “I’ll do anything you want. Just let me make this up to you.”

“I don’t know that you can,” I reply.

He frowns, his face falling, though to his credit, he does step aside and open the door for me, despite the upset on his face.

“But I guess you can try to start,” I add as I cross the threshold into the building.

“I finish at 10,” he calls after me, and it hurts to see the bright hope in his eyes, the way his expression transforms from despair into joy. He honestly does seem to care about me, about how I feel. About the mess he’s thrown me into. “I’ll come by your apartment then, if that’s okay?”

I nod. I don’t trust my voice to work in response. It’s too worn, too frayed. Then I walk past him, into the elevator, and shoot up to my floor. It takes every ounce of energy I have left not to collapse in the elevator and let the tears that have been burning at the back of my eyes all day fall.

Back at home, I head straight for the shower. I need to wash today off of me, need to wash all the sweat and fear and anger off before I talk to Zayne tonight. I’m going to give him this chance to explain. One chance, to be straight with me, honest about what he clearly doesn’t want to share. Then, we’ll see.

Then, I’ll probably be alone again, my darker side points out.

I ignore it and climb into my shower. Bury my face in the stream of hot water and let it wash over me.

But I’m not safe even here. Not protected from my memories. Especially not when that hot stream of water trickles down my chest, my stomach, past my navel, straight over my hips where it sears against my pussy, wet and reassuring and warm.

My hand strays toward my mound again, remembering the frustration earlier, the way I’d been fingering myself thinking about Zayne, but forced myself to stop.

Specifically, I remember the memory that made me unable to resist touching myself. The bet I made. The control I lost to him for an hour. One hour only, and yet it felt like so much longer. Like a whole lifetime.

He’d finished fucking me across the dining room table, and then he stood back, crossed his arms, sized me up as I lay there, too tired and pulsing with the afterglow of my orgasms to move. His gaze felt hot and heavy over my body, judging and lustful all at once.

“Stand up,” he said.

I forced myself to my feet, and even though my knees shook and my thighs quivered, and I felt a hot rush drip down my thigh, his cum mingled with mine, I managed to stand in front of him and obey.

“Tell me something, Clove.” He stepped closer.

My pussy clenched, and another trickle trailed down my leg. I loved that sensation, strangely. The after-rush. The knowledge that he’d come in me, claimed me.

“Anything,” I told him.

He smirked. Gripped my ass in one hand and squeezed tightly. “Has anybody ever fucked that perfect little ass of yours?”

I shivered then, a full-body motion, goosebumps rising on my skin. “No,” I murmured.

His smirk widened. “Have you wanted anybody to?”

I swallowed hard. Met his gaze, which was the only thing that gave me enough courage to admit this. “I want you to,” I said.

He laughed. Slapped my ass once, not hard, just enough to make my skin sting a little, and my body tense. “Why do you want me to fuck your ass, Clove?”

“I want you to take me in every way possible,” I heard myself saying. I didn’t even know it myself until I said it out loud, until I admitted it. “I want you to claim me, take your pleasure from me.”

He leaned in to feather a kiss along the side of my neck, so light that it made me shiver all over again, this time from desire, from wanting more, more, more. He always did that to me. Left me wanting. “You are a natural at this. It’s unbelievable, how perfect you are…” His hands traced the air in front of me, like he was forcing himself to hold back, not to touch me yet.

I smiled at him, and for a moment, he broke character. Wrapped one hand around the back of my neck and pulled me against him for a slow, deep kiss.

Then we broke apart again, and he was back in the character of the poker winner, the man who owned me now, for this next hour.

“Go into the living room and kneel on the carpet,” he told me. He didn’t need to explain which one. I could guess he mean the fuzzy one, almost a shag carpet. Comfortable enough that it wouldn’t hurt to kneel on.

I went in and dropped to my knees, turning to look over my shoulder at him. I expected him to come and stand before me, have me lick our combined cum off his cock, clean him while he got hard again. But he was on the other side of the room, digging through the kitchen.

“All fours,” he added to me, and I bent forward onto all fours, a pulse of desire running through me.

Then he was back, kneeling behind me, and I felt his cock trace between my thighs, trailing through our juices, soaking up what ran down my legs. He was already starting to grow hard again, thick with desire.

“I’m going to fuck your tight little virgin ass, Clove.”

I swallowed hard and felt myself nodding. His hands traced my ass cheeks. Spread them slowly, and when one finger dipped between my cheeks, I gasped, because his finger was wet, slick with lube.

“But first, I’m going to finger you. I’m going to stretch you slowly until you’re ready for my fat cock.”

My mouth parted as his finger circled the entrance to my ass, pressing against the opening.

“Tell me how this feels,” Zayne added. “I want to hear it all from you. Every sensation.”

“The lube is cold,” I murmured. “Starting to get hotter…”

In the shower, remembering this, I slide my finger between my pussy lips and begin to move it faster, pressing against the entrance of my pussy.

“Your finger feels thick, hard.” He pushed against my ass, and I gasped faintly as the pressure built. “It hurts, it feels strained…”

“That will pass when I’m deep enough inside you,” he promised.

His finger pushed past my opening with a popping sensation and slid half an inch into my ass.

“Fuck,” I gasped between gritted teeth.

“Tell me,” he commanded, and I could feel the hard press of his cock, growing harder with every moment, as he pushed his finger deeper still.

“It… You feel…” I shook my head.

“Relax, Clove. Breathe.”

I forced myself to let my muscles go, to sink back against him. His finger slid deeper, probing the depths of my ass. He curled it inside me, and the pressure increased, but with it, something else. A deep, pleasant, filled sensation. “It feels like you’re deeper inside me than you’ve ever been,” I murmured, trying to describe it. “As though you’re claiming the deepest parts of me.”

He leaned down, so his mouth was close beside my cheek, his breath hot against my ear. “Because I am, Clove. I’m taking all of you tonight.”

Another pleasant quiver raced through me, and I arched my back as he drew his finger back, then pressed it deeper again. It wasn’t like being fucked in the pussy. It felt more intense, less sheer pleasure and more pleasant ache. When he drew his finger out of me, I gasped in protest. But he was only adding more lube, and then pressing his finger into me again, joined by a second one this time. I moaned out loud when he pushed the second finger into me, knuckle-deep.

“You love feeling my fingers in your ass, don’t you, my little slut?” He grinned, turned to lick and suck at my neck, and I arched my neck to the side to let him, to give him access to whatever part of me he wanted.

In the shower, I push two fingers into my pussy, rock against the palm of my hand until it grinds against my clit, and lean on the shower wall for support as I finger-fuck myself, remembering Zayne’s possessive growl of pleasure as he pushed his fingers into my ass, claimed every inch of me for his own.

“Fuck, Zayne,” I gasped, and that turned into a louder cry of protest as he pulled those fingers out of me. But the protest didn’t last long, because a moment later, I felt the head of his cock pressed against my entrance, already wrapped in a condom, harder than ever, and doused in a healthy helping of the cool lube.

This time, when he pushed inside me, I couldn’t help crying out loud. He was thicker than his fingers, and harder, the steel at the core of his shaft intense and thick with pressure as he inched his cock into me. He moved slowly, a few centimeters at a time, letting me adjust to his width the whole time. But with each inch deeper he moved, the stretch increased, and so did the pleasure. When his balls touched my pussy lips, and his hips ground into mine and he’d fully entered my ass, I felt fuller than I ever had in my life. I felt stuffed to the brim, ready to burst, speared on his length, and I couldn’t get enough of it. I wriggled back against him, ground my hips into his as I groaned, unable to articulate the pleasure anymore, unable to explain anything, because all I knew was that I wanted more of this, more of him.

“Fuck, you feel amazing, Clove,” he murmured, the character broken. I looked over my shoulder and he kissed me, deep, probing, his tongue exploring my mouth the way his cock explored my ass.

“Take me,” I gasped when we parted, and he did. He slid back out of me, then pushed back in, slow at first, rocking gently against me to let my ass adjust to the sensation, grow used to his cock probing deep inside me. Finally, he worked his way up to fucking my ass fully, and I leaned forward against the carpet, braced on my forearms, my face buried in the rug as I cried out. I was so loud it barely muffled me, but Zayne was just as loud, groaning as he slammed into me, losing control, his hands wrapped tight around my hips as he fucked me so hard I knew I wouldn’t be able to walk straight the next day.

I still couldn’t. If I clenched my ass now, I could feel him inside me, the memory of his cock inside my ass. I did it again, felt that bone-deep ache even as I continued to fuck myself with my fingers, leaning into the hot stream of water.

I come hard, gasping to myself in the shower, letting the pleasure wash through me. I hope on its way through it will wash away some of these memories, stop letting them control me, so I can focus and ask Zayne everything I need to know tonight, instead of just wanting to jump his bones the second I see him again.

I finish and wash myself off, though I still don’t feel clean by the time I climb out of the shower again. I think it will be hard to feel clean again, not for a long time. Not until I can get all of these dirty memories of the weekend out of my head. Which at the moment feels like it might be never. How could I forget the hottest weekend of my life?

I dress in jeans and a blouse—casual but not totally lazy. I still want to look hot. Mostly because I want him to regret what he’s missing out on. But still.

My doorbell rings at 10:02pm. Got to give him that, he’s prompt.

I answer it and freeze on the threshold, stunned by the size of the bouquet he’s holding.

“Zayne…” I start, but he’s already handing it to me. It’s a mixed bouquet, made of white flowers dotted here and there with colorful roses, a mix like I’ve never seen before. It smells amazing, and the moment I accept the vase, my whole apartment seems to brighten with the color of the flowers. Still. That’s just one small gesture.

But I can’t deny that it loosens the tight knot in my chest somewhat.

“Come in,” I call over my shoulder with a sigh as I set the vase down on my kitchen counter. The jerk is winning me over already and I’ll bet he knows it, cocky bastard. I keep my gaze on the flowers as he shuts the door behind him.

“Clove, I just want to say how sorry I am for all of this. You were right.”

I turn to look at him now, and am surprised to find his eyes over-bright, fixed on mine with an expression of pleading in them.

“I should have told you about all of this from the start. I should have let you know it was a possibility. And I definitely shouldn’t have asked you for that selfie, not when I knew this could happen. It’s just, it’s been years since this has happened, so I thought it was over, I thought we were done with this goddamn dance now.”

“Dance?” I raise an eyebrow.

He shakes his head. “Something I used to say with… With her.” He grimaces. “You were right about that too. I should have just told you the truth when you asked me, in the café earlier today. I just… I didn’t want to admit to it. I thought you’d judge me, especially since…” He shakes his head again, harder. “No. No more excuses.” He swallows hard, with what looks like real effort, and meets my eye again. “Remember when you asked me why I’m still single?”

I nod. Of course I do. “You acted really strange about it,” I point out.

He laughs faintly, with no real humor behind it. “Well, because it’s a really strange situation. I was… I was dating someone a few years ago. We were together for three years. At first I was really into her, she seemed so attentive, so nice and caring. But things got… Strange. The longer it went on, the more red flags popped up. I realized that things weren’t working out, and I tried to end it.”

“Tried?” I raise an eyebrow.

“Well. I did end it. Two and a half years ago. But she didn’t… She didn’t accept it.”

“What do you mean?” I lean against the counter. The scent of the flowers catches in my nose again, and I sigh faintly, distracted by the pleasant smell.

“She started following me everywhere. To my old job, to home. Any time I went out with anyone else, even just friends, she’d get their phone numbers and call them, harass them, try to get them to tell her who I was with and what I was doing. She was even worse to anyone I was dating. After the first few dates, when she stole the girls’ phone numbers and wrote them on bathroom walls, I cut off all contact with her. Changed my phone number, left my old job, hell, I even moved.”

My eyebrows rise, if possible, even higher. “You changed jobs and moved because of her?”

“Not exactly because of her, really. I’d been thinking of making changes in my life. I was dragging my feet before, delaying because it scared me. Her creepy behavior just gave me the final push I needed to get out of my routine and change things up. But…” He sighs and gazes at the flowers with a forlorn expression.

“But?” I prompt, when he doesn’t speak again for a long moment.

“She found me.”

“Here?” My mouth drops open. No wonder he’s still single, if this is what he thinks women are like. If this is what he’s had to deal with in his life already.

He’s nodding, a grimace on his face. “She works in tech, so stalking me, finding where I worked and lived, then trying to find whoever I was dating, it’s her professional skillset. The first few dates I went on after we broke up, she pulled this exact stunt. Stole photos of the girls—some of them nudes, some of them just regular pictures that she edited and Photoshopped to look like the girls were naked. She posted them everywhere, harassed the women, started fake websites like she did with yours.” Zayne groans and runs a hand through his hair. “I had to file a restraining order. We got everything set down legally. After that, I hadn’t heard a thing from her. It’s been over a year since she did this to anybody, and I’ve been on a few dates since then. I figured the danger had passed. She hasn’t tried to ruin any other girls’ lives in a year, so I didn’t even think to warn you…”

I groan and press my fingers to my temples, massaging. “Shit, Zayne. I’m so sorry that you had to deal with that.”

“No. I’m sorry.” He catches my wrists. Draws my hands away from my forehead to fold them in his instead. “You shouldn’t have to pay for my past mistakes. You shouldn’t be suffering for my problems.”

“You shouldn’t either,” I counter, my lower lip trembling. “I can’t imagine what all of that was like…”

He laughs faintly, bitterly. “That wasn’t even the tip of the iceberg. God, there was the time she set my car on fire…”

“She what?”

“The time she tried to poke holes in all the condoms, back when we were still together—”

“Fuck, Zayne.”

“I’m sorry, Clove. I’m a mess. I’m messed up, after all of that. I should have told you, but it was so…” He shuts his eyes. I fight the urge to kiss him, to kiss away the pain that’s written so obviously across his face. “Embarrassing, really. And just, an old wound I hate reopening. I didn’t know how to explain, how to talk about it. And I don’t know why she would do this now, why she would come back to try and hurt you.”

I give in to the urge and press a faint kiss to the corner of his mouth. “It’s okay. I mean, it’s not okay that you didn’t tell me the truth, but I understand why you hesitated.”

He opens his eyes to meet mine. Runs a hand through my hair, smoothing it back from my forehead. “I should have trusted you.”

“We don’t know one another that well yet,” I point out.

He shakes his head so hard his hair flops across his forehead, almost into his eyes too. “We do, Clove. I know it’s crazy, I know we’ve only been talking like this for a few days, only seeing each other up close for that long, but it feels like I’ve known you forever already. It feels like this is right, this is where we’re meant to wind up.”

I can feel myself nodding, agreeing. “That’s why it hurt when you didn’t tell me about your ex. When I found out someone had leaked photos like this before around you…”

“I know. I get it, Clove, really. And I never meant to hurt you. I swear I won’t again.”

I can hear myself laughing. “All this from a stupid dating app.”

He laughs, too. “You know, much as I’m glad it helped us find one another…” He smooths my hair back again, gazes into my eyes. “I’m deleting that app tonight. I don’t need it anymore.”

My breath catches in my throat. “Me too,” I hear myself whispering.

His smile widens. But then it catches, snags, sags a little. “I just don’t want to hurt you, to hurt your career, over this mistake.”

“You were right too,” I counter, shaking my head now. “We’ll figure this out. Especially now that we know who’s behind this.”

“Clove, I don’t know what to say…”

“Then don’t,” I suggest. Then his lips are on mine, and I don’t need another apology. This is explanation enough. I collide with him, let my head fall to one side and my mouth part as his lips work against mine and his tongue slips between my lips to tangle with my own. He knows me already, after just three days. Knows how to kiss me, how to turn his head at the right moment to deepen that kiss, and how to wrap his arms around my waist and lift me against him so that I can forget everything else in the world except for the feeling of his arms around me.

When he sets me back on my feet, we’re both smiling faintly, despite the knot of worry still buried deep in my stomach. Somehow, I still need to find a way to solve this. But that feels possible here, wrapped safely in Zayne’s arms. With him by my side, we can manage anything.

He kisses my forehead lightly. “Can I take this as a sign that we’re okay again?” he murmurs softly.

“As long as you promise you’re not hiding any other dark skeletons in your closet from me,” I reply.

He laughs. “My closet is open wide. You can have a look anytime you want.”

“What if I’d rather steal a peek under your clothes instead?” I counter with a raised eyebrow.

His grin deepens. “Hmm. That could also be arranged. But first, I’m afraid there’s something else I really need to do.”

“Oh? And what might that be?”

Without responding, he steps back and catches the hem of my shirt. In one smooth motion, he pulls it up and over my head and drops it to the floor beside us. “I’m very hungry, Ms. Walker. I need to eat something. Preferably you.”

I laugh, which turns into a shiver as he catches me in a tight grip and lifts me onto the kitchen counter. He spreads my legs and starts the slow process of peeling my jeans off. I lean back, my head grazing the flowers that sit in the vase beside me, perfuming the air. I breathe in the scent deeply, sigh it out again as he yanks my jeans off my legs and tosses them aside with my blouse.

He kisses his way back up the inside of my leg, from my ankle up to my knee, then past it, along my inner thigh.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, Clove,” he murmurs as he works his way up my body. “Every minute of the day, all day.”

I think about the shower, my fantasies. My inability to force him out of my head, even when I was mad at him, even when I thought he did this, or thought he was lying to me. He was, I guess, but I understand his reasons.

“I can’t stop thinking about you either,” I whisper.

“I get hard every time I remember how gorgeous your body is, how beautiful you look spread out before me like this…” He leans in to lick his tongue across my mound for emphasis, and I gasp, biting down on my lip.

“I have to touch myself whenever I think about what you did to me this weekend,” I admit, my voice low, soft. “When I think about that hour when you commanded me…”

“Or when I think about the way you moaned so loud and desperately, with my cock inside your ass…” He stands, so I can see the hard bulge in his pants, the way he strains for me.

“Nobody has ever made me come the way you do, Zayne,” I admit.

He smiles. “Nobody has ever made me want to fuck them for hours and hours the way you do…” He trails his finger up my slit, through the wet juices already gathering there, and then pops it straight into his mouth, licking my juices with a hungry glow in his eyes.

“I feel like I’m going crazy.” I brace myself against his shoulders, both hands gripping him tight. “How can I feel like this for you so fast?”

“Because I was always there, Clove. Waiting for you to see me under the uniform. We haven’t known each other long, but we’ve been standing right in each other’s paths for years.”

He’s right. I may not have known him well, but Zayne has been in my life for a long, long time. No wonder it feels right, now that I’m realizing how much more in my life he needed to be. How deeply involved in my life he should have been from the start.

“Let me make you feel good, Clove. Let me take your mind off all of this…”

He kneels in front of me again, but it feels different this time, charged somehow. Like he’s not just touching me, tasting me, but feeling me too. He wants to give me pleasure, doing it gives him pleasure, and knowing that only turns me on even more. This isn’t just a hookup. It can’t be. Not when it feels like this.

Zayne spreads my legs, hands wrapped around my ankles, and kisses his way along my inner thigh. I close my eyes and shiver, savoring the feeling of his rough stubble as it grazes against my sensitive skin, right at my hipbone. He takes his time, the way he always does. I love that about him, the way he’s so careful with me, so precise. He makes sure that I’m aching, about to burst before he gives me what I want. I never knew denial could be so hot, or that making me wait could make me so much hungrier for him when he finally gives me what I need.

When his tongue delves into my slit, I clench my fist in his hair and arc my back, leaning backward along the kitchen counter. He pushes his tongue inside me slowly, circling, tasting each of my walls as he enters me.

“Zayne,” I gasp, my hands clenching and releasing in his hair of their own accord. He always does this—makes me lose control of my limbs, my hands, my own body.

I can feel the curl of his lips as he smiles against me, but he doesn’t reply, just keeps licking me, inside me. He eats me like a starving man, like I’m the only meal he’s had in months. He grips my ass with one hand, lifts my pussy closer to his mouth, and I can feel his stubble scratch across my inner thighs, graze the edges of my lips as he forces his tongue as deep inside me as possible.

At the same time, I feel his other hand slide up my thigh too, until he’s stroking his forefinger along my slit. I don’t realize what he’s doing, don’t notice how he’s coating his finger in my juices, until he presses the tip of that finger against the tight pucker of my ass.

I cry out as he presses his finger into my ass, slowly and deliberately. The sudden tight, full feeling is doubled, because I clench my pussy in response, and feel his tongue press back against me, the flat plane of his tongue caught between my walls. My head falls back against the counter, my body too distracted by the conflicting sensations—the fullness from every angle.

He starts to move his finger, sliding it deeper into my ass, then drawing it out again slowly. At the same time, he continues to lick into my pussy, his tongue curling to drag against my front inner wall. I thought I felt wild before, but this pushes me to a new limit. I twist against the counter, the hard marble cool against my ass, another contrast to the white-hot heat pouring from Zayne’s mouth, his finger inside my ass, his whole body.

I can’t help it. Before long, I’m bucking against his face, and he flattens his lips around my pussy, licks me hard and fast as he continues to finger my ass. I wrap my legs over his shoulders, hook my ankles to hold him against me as I bury my hands in his hair. I come with a loud cry, the orgasm sweeping through my whole body, from the tips of my toes all the way to the top of my head. I feel like I’m on fire, bursting from the inside out.

He keeps his finger buried inside my ass and draws back to lick my sensitive-as-hell clit. I gasp and jerk against the counter, and he laughs, his breath hot against my soaking wet pussy.

“You like that, Clove?” He grins up at me, still kneeling between my legs, that cocky grin of his irresistible from this angle. Or from any angle, really.

I grin back, breathless, heart still racing. Then I clench my ass around his finger, and smirk. “What was your first clue?”

He lifts an eyebrow, enjoying the challenge. “Hmm. So you like having both holes filled at once, is that it?”

My cheeks flush bright red, but I hold his eye, emboldened by the naked lust in his eyes. “If that orgasm was anything to judge by, it’s definitely nice, yes.”

“Mm…” His gaze rakes down my body, and his lower lip juts out as though he’s considering something. Pondering. “Well, I didn’t come prepared, but I think we should be able to make do…”

With that, he stands, and draws his finger out of my ass. I gasp in protest, especially because without him kneeling between my legs, I feel cold, my naked ass freezing against the marble countertop.

But he doesn’t leave me hanging for long. He scoops me into his arms, and I wrap my legs around his waist. His hard cock presses against my ass, so I’m almost sitting on top of it as he holds me against him with one arm and digs through my drawers with the other.

“What are you doing?” I ask, but he only winks in response. I feel him shift against me as he picks up something, and then we’re moving, before I can tell exactly what he has in mind.

He carries me to the doorway of my bedroom, then hesitates in the entrance, glancing past me. “Red sheets. It’s almost like you planned on having a sexy encounter in here sometime soon…”

I laugh, and feel my face flush again, this time with regular embarrassment. “I… Forgot I had those on.”

He casts me a sideways smirk.

“It’s my favorite color!” I protest. “I just like it is all.”

“I like it too.” In response, he steps across the threshold, and tosses me onto the bed without warning, so hard that I bounce a little, laughing as he steps up to the bed, gazing down at me. “The color suits you. You look good on it.” His gaze roams across my body, naked and exposed before him. “Though you’ll look even better spread-eagled across it.”

My laughter turns a little breathy, my flushed face getting even hotter as he kneels beside me and leans down to kiss me softly, slowly. “Zayne…” I murmur. Then I lift my eyes to his, smiling, because a sudden idea took hold of me. “It’s my turn,” I say.

He raises an eyebrow, still smiling, but questioning. “Your turn to what, exactly?”

“To spread-eagle you.” With that, I push myself up to a sitting position, then flip around to kneel next to him. He lets me push him over easily, even though of course, he could overpower me if he wanted. There’s something sexy about that, about the confident way he’s willing to let me take control when I want to. He doesn’t have anything to prove—he just wants me to enjoy myself however I want. And right now, I want to do to him what he just did to me.

I spread his legs wide, then position his hands over his head. After a moment’s consideration, I grab the edges of the my sultry red sheets—silk, no less, because I love the way it feels against my skin, cool and soothing and smooth as hell. I wrap each corner around the bedposts, then use them to tie Zayne’s wrists to the bed frame. He smirks at me. I know it’s just a loose knot—he could slip it anytime he wanted. But he lets me do it, and to judge by the stiff cock standing erect in his boxers in front of me, he’s enjoying this too.

I bind his ankles too, the same way, not very tight, and he could easily slip the knot if he wanted.

“I hope you know turnabout is fair play,” he comments while I work. “The next time I’m back here, I’m going to have to tie you up nice and tight for this. Maybe even give you a spanking, too.” His gaze drops to my ass, and I shiver at the thought of him doing this to me. Tying me up, leaving me vulnerable and exposed before him. Having his way with me.

My pussy clenches just thinking about it. “Promises, promises,” I tell him, a playful sparkle in my eye as I wink and finish tying off his right ankle. “But first, it’s my turn.”

Now that he’s bound, I reach up to trace my hands over his sides. Let him have a taste of his own medicine—see how it feels when I touch him like this, slowly, torturously, not touching his sensitive spots, not yet. I trace his muscles, every inch of his hard abs and the flat plane of his stomach. I lean down to feather kisses along the carved V that points straight to his cock. I flick my tongue into his navel, loving the salty-sweet taste of him, and the way he inhales sharply, trying to hide his pleasure. He can’t though, not when I have him like this, naked before me. He can’t hide anything from me here.

“Zayne…” I catch his eye again. Begin to inch his boxers down his legs. “Have you done this before?”

“What, been tied up?” His eyes catch mine with a mischievous glint. “Once or twice, I have to admit.”

I laugh. Then shake my head. “Have you ever felt so… hungry for somebody before?” I trace my hands along his sides, down to his upper thighs. I pull his boxers further down, far enough that his cock springs free, standing tall at attention, curved upwards so the tip almost touches his navel. “You just made me come, and it was great, fantastic, but I…” I graze his cock with my fingertip, barely a touch, just enough to make him jump as his muscles clench in reply. “I already want more.”

He swallows so hard it’s audible, and gazes up at me with sincerity. “I know exactly what you mean, Clove. I never knew it was possible to feel this hungry. Every minute of the day, I think about you, about all the things I want to do to you, all the ways I want to enjoy your body. I’ve been hard practically since the night we first spoke…”

I touch his cock again, still lightly, barely touching him between my fingertips. I stroke them up and down his length, hardly touching him, but he’s so turned on already that it makes his hips twist against the bed, his eyes hot where they catch mine. “I know how you feel,” I murmur. “I feel like I’ve spent the entire weekend wet, red-hot, ready to jump you any second you’ll let me.”

“Which is any second you want,” he points out.

“What is this? Why do we feel this so quickly?” I murmur, my voice dropping lower.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “But whatever it is, I don’t want it to stop. I want you, Clove. I want to be with you. When you showed up downstairs with that… that…” His face twists into an ugly expression, a scowl. “That fucking disrespectful asshole who followed you home. I wanted to tear his throat out for touching you. For trying to use you.”

I lean down to feather a kiss along his jaw, but he turns his head and catches my lips with his, kisses me hard and deep. “Nobody else touches me,” I promise as I draw back, just far enough to meet his eyes. “Nobody but you.”

He smiles, a soul-deep smile that catches my eyes, sets me on fire. “Because you’re mine, Clove. And I’m yours.”

“Mine to do with as I wish,” I point out, spreading my fingers wide and wrapping my hand around his cock in earnest this time, clutching him tight enough to feel his velvet-smooth skin under my fingertips, and the hard steel of his shaft beneath.

“And what do you wish to do to me, Clove?” Zayne’s eyebrows rise, those blue eyes of his fixed on mine, all heat underneath and ice on top, like he could burn and chill me all at once. He does, in fact, quite frequently.

I tighten my grip on his cock and begin to slide my hand up and down his shaft, my own smile widening. “I want to make you come so hard you forget your own name,” I murmur.

He smirks and tilts his body, curving his hips up toward my hand to give me easier access to him. “If anybody can make me lose control, Clove, it’s you.”

I don’t need more invitation than that. It’s already hard enough to resist the sight of his thick, swollen cock, and the scent of sweat and sex that hangs heavy in the room. His scent drives me mad—I never much thought about hormones before, but now I realize how real they are, how crazy the scent of his makes me. I lean down to kiss around the base of his cock, letting his shaft brush against my cheek, my forehead, my hair, as I circle him. His cock jumps again, the muscles tensed, out of his control now. Just the way I like.

I duck my head between his thighs to lick his balls, one at a time. He tastes amazing, hot and heady with a touch of salt, and an underlying flavor that’s all him, more addictive than anything I’ve ever tasted before. I suck one of his balls between my lips, close my lips around him and roll it along my tongue. He moans faintly, just a soft sound, one he’s clearly trying to suppress. He won’t be able to for long, if I have anything to say about it.

“Fuck, Clove,” he murmurs as I release that ball and lap at the other one, flick my tongue across him, then dig it against the sensitive spot right between his balls and his cock. His cock jumps again, and I catch it in a tight fist, start to stroke him again while I continue licking around his base. I close my lips around the side of his shaft, suck hard enough to leave a little mark, hard enough to make his hips jerk once more, and then I move on, rolling my tongue around him as I inch up his length.

When I reach his tip, I gently purse my lips against him, my mouth already wet from licking him so much. Slowly, I increase pressure, parting my lips around the head of his cock to gently press him into my mouth. I keep my lips tight around him, press my tongue up against the underside of his cock, tracing the thick veins there, so he feels every inch of my mouth as I take him inside.

“Your… fucking… mouth,” he whispers between hard breaths. I grin and keep taking him in deeper, sliding his cock along the length of my tongue.

“You’re fucking magic,” he murmurs, head falling back on the pillow.

I take him deeper, deeper, until the tip of his cock touches the back of my throat.

“Clove,” he moans, and I wrap my one fist around the base of his shaft, keeping the pressure there as I sit up slowly, drawing him back out of my mouth once more.

When he’s fully out, I lick the tip of his cock and savor the droplets of precum I can taste already. I lean back to eye his swollen length, glistening with my spit, hard as ever, his veins standing out, the whole cock pulsing with blood, his desire evident, impossible to deny.

“Don’t…” He stops himself, grits his teeth.

I grin at him. “Don’t what?” I lift one eyebrow. Lean back down to lick his tip again, and enjoy the way his cock jumps once more. I circle my tongue around his head, and wrap my fist around his base again, stroking him slowly. “Don’t stop?”

“Don’t…” He locks eyes with me and sucks in another deep breath. This is it, I think. I’ve finally made him beg the way he always makes me. “Don’t make me punish you worse later,” he replies, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

I have to laugh, though I lean down to lick along one side of his cock again as I do. “I thought you enjoyed punishing me,” I point out, then lick the top of his cock, my mouth open so he can watch me do it. He drinks in the sight, his gaze as hungry as ever. He might be tied up just now, but my lover still looks dangerous, ready to pounce on me at any moment if his lust reaches frenzy pitch.

Part of me hopes it will. My belly clenches, a curl of anticipation hidden deep inside.

“Oh, I do,” he murmurs, and my pussy tightens too, those words sending a pulse of desire through my whole body.

“Good,” I reply. Then I lick along him again and flatten my hand across his stomach to pin him against the bed. I keep up that slow, maddening pace until he seems like he’s about to burst, his muscles strained and his breath coming fast, even though he struggles to disguise it.

Finally, I take him into my mouth and begin to work on him, sliding him in and out of my mouth, all the way to the back of my throat like he taught me. As I expected, he doesn’t let me stay in control for too long. I get him worked up to a point but then he loses his ability to remain cool. He tugs his arms free from my meager restraints and grips my head, hands buried in my hair, eyes shut with pleasure as he thrusts up into my mouth. I relax my jaw, catch breaths between his thrusts, and let him fuck me from below, his hips rising up with every thrust, his cock spearing deep into my throat.

I love this best of all—the way he abandons all sense of control, becomes wild, animalistic with lust. He wants me, and nothing will stand in his way. I watch him, enjoying the almost pained expression of desire on his face, the way his eyes screw shut and his mouth falls open in ecstasy.

As he nears his peak, his eyes open and find mine. He watches me, a dark, hungry glint in his eye as he thrusts into my mouth again, again, hands clenched tight in my hair, his teeth gritted. And then, all at once, his expression shifts, his mouth parting farther as he comes hard, deep in my throat. I swallow his cum, savoring the taste, the flavor of him magnified, stronger than anything else. When he sinks back against the bed, I keep licking his shaft, his tip, cleaning every drop from him, until finally he shudders, grips my shoulders and tugs me up toward him.

I fall at his side, and he wraps his arms around my body, pulling me against his warm, naked skin. He kisses me once more, deeply, and his tongue slips between my lips, probing my mouth, tasting himself on me.

“Fuck, Clove,” he murmurs again when we break apart. “You are impossibly perfect.”

I smile and nuzzle into his side, arms tight around his waist. “Me? You’re the one who was hiding right beneath my nose this whole time. In a doorman’s uniform, no less.”

He laughs, and I can hear the echo of it in his chest as I lie against him, the feel of his breathing against my cheek, the hum of his voice when he speaks tickling my cheek. “I wasn’t hiding. I was right there in plain sight. You were just blinded by the sexy hat.”

I snort and flick his stomach. “Sure, that was it. That damned hat stood in our way.”

“And to think, all it took to get you to look beneath was punching out an asshole.”

I laugh and elbow him again. He just laughs harder.

“Well,” he amends. “Punching out a guy, and then sending you a particularly witty sext later.”

My cheeks flare red-hot again. I lean up to make eye contact and glare down at him, pretending to be offended. “How dare you insinuate that I would ever take part in something so crude as sending dirty texts, sir. I am an innocent, nice girl. I would never do such a thing.”

His eyes spark. “Not from what I’ve seen.” He grips my hips and flips me around, all in one smooth motion so I’m underneath him smirking up at him. Then he leans in to nibble along my neck, teeth grazing my skin just hard enough to make me gasp, goosebumps rising along my whole body. “You are one… very…” He bites me a little harder to make a point, “naughty…” He leans up to nip at my earlobe, sucking it between his lips, “girl,” he finishes whispering in my ear.

I wrap my legs around his waist and pull him against me. His cock is still wet from my saliva, but I can feel him start to tense, a fresh rush of blood flowing south as I lean up to lick along his ear in response. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“No? Maybe this will refresh your memory…” He sits back and pulls me up with him, then promptly bends me forward over his legs so his slowly hardening cock presses against my side, and he runs his hand along my ass. “After all.” He smirks, the smile evident in his voice. “I believe I owe you a spanking…”

I turn just far enough to bat my eyes at him. “You did promise to make it a worse punishment this time,” I remind him.

He grins back, eyes on fire. “Oh, that much I do remember, my darling.”