Blake left her her with a finger inside her and that ebbing pleasure so gently receding. Left her wanting him back at her side, or behind her, or wherever the hell he wanted to be — as long as he was touching her again.

How could she still be so turned on? Usually, all it took was one orgasm and she’d be set for a week, maybe longer. Sam, it had seemed, could go almost a month between their lovemaking sessions with no problem.

Always so busy. So tired from work.

She’d heard all his excuses. And recognized them now for just that: excuses. Of course he needed action more than once a month.

And he was getting it. Just not from her.

Elle’s muscles stiffened. She drew her finger out. Rested that hand against the wall and slowly straightened. Huh. All it took was one thought of Sam to obliterate the pleasure Blake had so carefully cultivated inside her. What would he think if she asked to leave now? Did she have to ask? Wasn’t it her—

What the hell was wrong with her? This was the first time she’d felt so alive, so hotwired with passion that she wanted to explode, and she wanted to back out? Because of Sam? Here she was, naked and trembling, in a stranger’s loft with just the promise of how slow and deep he was going to fuck her to keep her going… and she wanted to chicken out?

Elle gave her head a shake, and made her hand work its way down to her pussy again. She slowly slid a finger inside and let thoughts of Blake drift back into her mind.

And, like a gas stove flickering into life, her body sung with expectation again.

She didn’t hear Blake returning. And she started when a hand touched the curve of her ass.

He slid his fingers down, between her legs. Caressed her finger where she slowly pumped it in and out of herself.

“Good girl,” Blake murmured as he stepped up to her.

His naked skin was warm where it touched her. She wanted to look around, to see what he looked like, but he caught her hair in a fist and kept it staring straight ahead at the wall.

The tip of his cock touched her. Precise, steady. But doing nothing more than smearing her wetness over her folds. Elle moaned softly, arching her back at the trembling that started up inside her.

“You did a good job keeping yourself so wet for me.”

Elle tried to nod, but she couldn’t move her head. Blake tipped her head back a little, and kissed her again. She melted into that kiss, her body relaxing. She’d been so surprised the first time he kissed her — he was so good at it. Ferocious but restrained at the same time. That kiss had been an indicator of how badly he wanted her, but how hard he was keeping himself back from taking her hard and fast.

Blake dragged his fingers through her entrance. With a hand on either side of her folds, he opened her. Pressed the tip of his cock against her. And slowly forced himself inside her.

Elle groaned deeply into his mouth. Blake’s breath washed over her face as he exhaled through his nose, refusing to break their kiss — despite how it had frozen in place.

And he just kept sliding into her. Filling her. Stretching her like she’d never thought possible until today. She squirmed, for a moment not sure if the throbbing pleasure would transform into pain.

But it didn’t. His pelvis closed over her ass, driving his dick the last inch inside her. Where he held it as his lips moved against hers, almost tenderly.

Elle crooned into his mouth, trying to move her ass, to drive him deeper or shallower inside her. To encourage some movement.

But Blake seemed oblivious — happy just to be inside her. His fingers brushed her clit — another her taint. Massaging her gently.

Elle’s lips stopped responding to his kiss. And, as if taking that for some kind of signal, Blake drew out of her.

“I want you on my bed, Elle.”

She turned, blinked lazily up at him. His eyes were hooded, his expression serious and intimidating. She wavered for a moment, but then he slid his cock into her again, just as slow as before.

“Okay,” she managed.

He nipped at her earlobe, made a pleased sound against the side of her neck, and drew out of her.

She let out a surprised squeal — hurriedly cut off — as he scooped her into his arms and carried her across the room. Clinging to his neck, Elle stared up at him, then down at his chest.

His chest hair was damp. She could smell soap coming off him.

He’d showered? When? But then he stopped, took a step up, and slowly lowered her onto her back on the bed. Further thought became impossible. All she could see was his brown eyes, the curve of his lips in a near-smile, and his muscles cording as he lowered her onto his bed.