I came back in the early hours of the morning. I’d paid a taxi to drive me around, then let me out in Saint-Germain. I walked around the Left Bank of the Seine like a wolf on the prowl, collar up, hat down, not pausing to look in the shop windows. They were all closed anyway. I did stop in front of a Benedictine Abbey. Built in the sixth century, it claimed to be the oldest in Paris. Descartes was buried there. He was the one who came up with, “I think therefor I am.”

Thanks a lot, Descartes. Too filled with my own thoughts for my own good, I jammed my fists back in my pockets. I wasn’t good at thinking. Acting on instinct, or just acting on pure need, feel, that I was good at. I felt music. I could sense what a crowd wanted on stage. With a woman, I could tune in and lose myself completely, sense her pleasure and what she needed maybe even more than she did.

With Ana, it had been on a whole other level. I’d lost myself completely. I didn’t think I’d had a single rational thought for hours after she went down on me. I’d taken her, again and again, in front of the fire, in our bed, and she’d craved it as much as me. I think I’d been hard the entire time. Her skin, her scent, her moans, the way she arched back into me in bed, grinding her ass onto my cock. The way she took everything I could give and still wanted more, even though I could tell I was stretching her, pushing her to the utmost.

It burned in me, the need to consume her again, to have her and hold her and never let her go. But she’d kicked me out.

Or, at least it had felt that way at first. I’d stormed out of the hotel room, mad as hell. I’d been pissed off at the cameramen who interrupted our moment, scaring her and violating our privacy. But then she’d yelled at me and it had been easy to turn my anger on her, decide she was being unfair and jumping on the #HateAshBlack bandwagon.

Only, that wasn’t it, was it? She had a point. I had dragged her into all of this. And I knew exactly what shit I’d been dragging her into. I’d lived it for years now, this insane existence, every wall around me just a one-way mirror with countless, faceless spectators on the other side. At first, it had been a rush, all the attention and all the women. The money had been fun, too. I’d grown up with it but it hadn’t been mine, it had been my father’s and my family’s but none of them wanted much to do with me. I’d always felt like the unworthy black sheep, all the more reason to call myself Ash Black.

So at first, I’d enjoyed the ride. I’d sought it out, finally in my element, able to act as crazy as I wanted and only find applause at the end of my stunts. After years of disapproval, teachers and parents and my older brother all wagging their fingers at me, it had felt like pure bliss. A big, giant middle finger up to everyone who’d told me I was worthless, a disappointment. See how much everyone else loved me? See?

But the ever-present audience had been wearing on me for a while now, a pain more than a gift. It wasn’t that I cared when tabloids dragged up shit on me. That I didn’t care about. But somewhere along the line the fame had started feeling more like a fishbowl than adoration, more like I was a specimen being examined than an idol being worshipped.

But it wasn’t until Ana came into my life that I truly began to hate it. Maybe because before her I didn’t have anything truly special to keep out of the spotlight. I had nothing I wanted to protect, guard, keep safe with my life.

Now that I had her, I wanted to fight to the death. Those tears she’d cried? They’d ripped me up. That cameras had turned what we had between us into something ugly and embarrassing? I could kick a thousand chair legs into a thousand walls. But she’d scolded me for doing it, and she was right. Kicking things didn’t make anything better.

I never should have stopped and done all that on a public street corner, exposing her. I’d gotten too caught up in her to be smart. My lust for her had made me dumb.

Resigned, feeling sick, I took out my phone. Any videos or photos they’d captured would be up by now. Better to rip off the Band-Aid and deal with the wound they’d inflicted.

I ducked into a sheltered corner and pressed play. Video came on, shadowy, grainy. You couldn’t hear what we were saying. I knew what we’d been telling each other, nasty, hot and yearning, how she belonged to me and I was going to make her mine again. But thankfully it was all muffled and dark. You could tell it was me, but you couldn’t exactly tell it was Ana. Relief poured through me. I had sheltered her.

At least I’d managed that, blocking her from view with my body. I was much bigger than her. She was just the right size under my hands, under my frame. I could move her exactly how I wanted her, angle her and position her, but she had enough to her that she met my force with force of her own. And I was big enough to shield her from cameras.

Had she seen this video? I clicked around on photos. They were even less revealing. A picture of my back standing in a dark alcove. An action shot of my angry face reaching out to shove away cameras. Big fucking deal. To me, at least, they got nothing. But would she feel the same way? This was all new to her.

I knew I should probably get another hotel room. I could check into one and crash there, send her a text to call me when she was ready. I would do that, if I weren’t crazed for her. A fever burned inside me and I needed her, needed to touch and taste her. She might not be happy to see me, might tell me to get lost, but I’d take that chance. Because there was the possibility, no matter how slight, that she might say yes, sinking into me the way I needed to sink into her.

Back at the hotel, I let myself in quietly. I figured she might be asleep. If she were, I told myself I’d crash on the couch. Assaulting her in her sleep wasn’t my style.

But she was up, sitting, waiting for me.

“Ash, I’m so sorry.” She rushed at me and I caught her in my arms, kissing her ferociously, clutching her to me.

“Don’t be sorry,” I insisted. She’d been right. I had been to blame for exposing her like that. I should have known better. It didn’t matter that she made me so crazy I couldn’t think straight and take the usual precautions. I needed to think straight for the both of us, help her navigate this crazy world I’d dragged her into.

“It was my fault.” I breathed her in, her light vanilla scent, her feminine musk. I licked her neck, trailing my tongue along her soft, sweet skin, sucking her there. She gasped and leaned into me, always wanting more of everything I gave. It made my blood boil, the intensity of her responses, how quickly and easily she melted at my touch.

I backed her up against the wall, panting, holding her there with my strength. She tossed her head back and I licked her throat, then bit at her. I swear, I felt like I wanted to eat her alive, consume every inch of her.

“Ash,” she moaned, her hands up at my shoulders, clutching, clasping, pulling, wanting me in that same, crazy, wild way.

“I have to have you.” My words sounded harsh, strained, frenzied. I ground my hips into hers, pressing my long, erect shaft into her. She groaned and pushed right back, moving against me.

She didn’t wear much and I ripped it off, quick. A t-shirt and short shorts lying on the ground. She didn’t have on a bra and I wanted her like that all the time, easy, quick access to pure heaven. I dropped my face to her breasts, sucking, licking, claiming.

She still wore panties, but I made quick work of them, too, yanking them down and discarding them with the rest of her clothes. No panties. I wanted her in short skirts with no panties so I could reach up and stroke her, find her slick sex in an instant.

A low, guttural moan escaped her lips as I began to finger fuck her, plunging deep up inside of her.

“I need to fuck you, Ana,” I whispered, taking a breast into my mouth and sucking, hard on her erect nipple. “Here. Now.”

“Yes,” she murmured, her hands down on my hips, pulling me toward her. “Fuck me, Ash. I need it.”

“You need it?” I asked, unzipping my jeans and pulling out my cock. Long, hard, it jerked in my hand as I palmed it, showing it to her. She moaned at the sight of it, and the raw sound of her longing made me hard as a jackhammer. I grabbed a condom, quick, from my pocket and rolled it along my length. Her eyes followed my every move, hungry.

Fast, I grabbed her wrists in my hands. She was slender and I could fit them both in my grasp. I pinned them up above her head. Her eyes widened with surprise and more. Lust. Excitement. She liked the power I had over her. There was a lot more where that came from.

I loved the feel of her next to me, pressed against the wall, stripped completely naked and dripping for me. I still had on my clothes. I held her down, fastened her to the wall with my hand. Some other time I’d play with her, enjoy how crazy I made her. Tease and coax and make her feel every inch my plaything. But not right now. Right now I needed to bury myself in her.

With my other hand, I angled her hips. “I’m going to fuck you up against this wall, Ana.” My cock at her wet, hot entrance, I could already feel how much she needed me. She moaned in response, licking her lips, her gorgeous breasts thrust up at me as I pinned her hard against the wall.

Then, in one long, strong stroke, I plunged into her, my full, hard length. Fuck it felt so good to sheath myself in her, her tight, wet heat, quivering and made for me. I wasn’t going to go easy on her. I needed this like a panther needed a meal. Keeping her pinned, I used my other hand to cup her ass.

“Wrap your legs around me. This is gonna get rough.” She did as she was told, winding her long, sexy legs around me, spreading herself open. And I began to fuck her, pounding into her, fucking her hard up against the wall, using the hard surface to work more friction into it. I ground into her, mercilessly, bruising her hips, grunting as I drove into her deep again and again.

“Yes!” she called out, hoarse, guttural, unable to move her hands. She closed her eyes, tossed her head to the side, taking my thrusts with wild, animal abandon.

“Feel how deep I am in you!” I commanded more than asked, wanting her every thought consumed by me. “How deep I fuck you.” I rocketed into her, filling her to the hilt, her wet depths taking me in all the way. I could already feel the tension in my balls, the need to come driving me to pump into her harder, more frenzied.

“Ash!” She dug her heels into my thighs, spreading her legs as wide as she could, angling herself into me so she could take all of my cock all of the time. She shoved her pussy onto my shaft, matching my thrusts, as crazed as me. Her tits jiggled each time I slammed into her. I shook her entire body with my force.

I could feel it build in her, the tension, the shudders. She was close, too.

“Are you going to come for me, Ana?” I positioned her hips so I hit her just right, my cock smashing into her clit every time I plunged into her. She couldn’t even answer me she was so close. All that came out of her mouth were cries of need, desperate, raw. Sweaty now, I crashed into her again and again, fucking her at a brutal speed, pounding into her like I’d never before.

“Look at me when you come!” I commanded. At my order she opened her eyes and came all over my cock. Wild, pulsing, she screamed and looked straight at me as she gave me everything she had, her pussy clutching my cock, squeezing me, milking me until I came, too. Rocketing deep into her, I came and came, shooting into her like I’d die if I didn’t get out every drop.

I dropped my hands to her ass and supported her weight. She was jelly, collapsing between me and the wall, unable to speak, unable to stand. I’d fucked her senseless.

With a deep sense of male satisfaction, I picked up my well-fucked woman and carried her over to the bed. Reluctantly, I withdrew from her so I could place her down gently. I removed my condom and then joined her on the bed, holding her to me.

“Oh my God, Ash,” she managed, nuzzling into me, her eyes already closing.

“You’re mine, Ana. I’ll never let anyone hurt you again.” I made her crazy promises I was just crazy enough to keep.

“Yes, Ash,” she murmured, so at peace in my arms. I stroked her hair, wondering at her softness. Everything about her, her thighs, her lips, her heart. She had such a kind heart, opening it to me. What had I ever done to deserve her goodness? She’d spent the adult years of her life studying for degrees, maintaining a tight bond with her family, helping children discover a love of reading by day, a love of music by night.

What had I done with my life thus far? Strut around on a stage in leather pants. Trash hotel rooms and have what I’d thought was great sex with groupies.

What an ass I’d been. I didn’t know how, but I promised myself, I’d become a better man for her. Even with the heavy burden of my thoughts, after the stress of the night and the burst of release, we both fell into a deep sleep.

Late on our last day in Paris, we awakened in our hotel room, a tangle of limbs. I couldn’t even get enough of her while we slept. I reached for her, wanted her splayed over my chest, wanted my thigh hooked over hers. Mine.

I ordered us room service. My Ana loved her some chocolate croissants. I kissed away the buttery flakes from her lips, using the excuse to lick and taste. Even that playful flirtation left us both breathless.

We didn’t even have two weeks left of this arrangement, this fake romance turned real. She was supposed to break up with me in ten days. I couldn’t let that happen. I needed her like I needed to breathe.

But I didn’t want to scare the poor girl. I was half-insane over her, but that wasn’t exactly appealing, now was it? A nice girl like Ana, she needed stable and secure. A man who could provide, not tantrum in hotel rooms. I’d see what I could do about being that for her.

We were in Paris, after all, arguably the most fashionable city in the world. It was our last day and she hadn’t bought herself a single thing. Of course, I was the one with the money. How had I managed to not take her shopping?

I took her to the areas I knew about, the Rue des Francs-Bourgeois, the Rue St. Honore, and of course the Galleries Lafayette. But getting this girl to spend my money was work.

“I don’t need it, Ash,” she protested, standing there looking hotter than hell in a slinky dress.

“Sure you do.” I didn’t want to overwhelm her, tell her that was exactly the kind of thing she’d need to wear out with me as we kept right on going as a couple month after month, year after year. You couldn’t spring that on someone, surprise them with the announcement that you felt that way. Hell, I wasn’t even used to feeling that way. I never had before.

So, instead, I took her shoe shopping. I had more success when it came to shoes. The art, the whimsy, the unique designs, her eyes lit up as she looked around at all the choices. I wasn’t exactly a connoisseur of women’s shoes, but even I knew that Parisians really took shoe design to the next level.

“How do people even walk in these?” she asked, holding up a pair of boots with an intricate flower-and-vine pattern woven into the leather. “They’re pieces of art.”

“So are you,” I told her. Smarmy compliments had never felt more honest coming out of my mouth. “Let me get them for you.”

She finally relented over a couple of pairs, not nearly enough, but something. The flash of delight in her eyes made it so worth it.

“Thank you, Ash. I’ll always think of you when I wear them.” Why did she sound forlorn as she said that, as if we were about to say goodbye? Like she’d be wearing them day after day without me in her life? I wasn’t going anywhere.

I got a call from Lola and let it go through to voicemail. But I listened to it while we strolled down yet another perfect avenue. “I love all the drama,” Lola congratulated me. “I love how you’re pretending to hide and get pissed off with all the attention. This is going so well. I think we’re talking Super Bowl halftime again here, Ash. Keep it up. You’ve found a goldmine in that girl. She should be a professional actress. Are you sure she’s not?”

Lola really had a way with words. With only a few, she could sew seeds of doubt. I looked at Ana, so pretty, so innocent, and I actually wondered. Was she faking it all? Could she be playing me, the one taking me for a ride?

But then she looked up at me and smiled, so real and full, and I couldn’t doubt her. It was Lola’s worldview where everyone used and got used. That had been mine, too. It just took some time to get used to something so new, so radically opposed to what I’d known my whole life.

“Thank you.” Ana leaned up to me and kissed me. Nothing more than a chaste kiss. Even if photographers caught that one, it could still grace the covers of magazines in grocery stores without moms wanting to shield their children’s eyes. But it set my motor running.

“Want to head back to the hotel?” I knew I was a beast, that my appetite for her went way beyond normal. It was our last day in Paris and there was much more of the city to see. There was no way she really wanted to hole up with me until our flight took off, but I couldn’t help but ask. I needed her again. All that waiting outside changing rooms while she tried on clothing, only popping out every now and then to show me how sexy and seductive she looked in something she then refused to let me buy. It had been a slow tease, knowing she kept stripping down to her bra and panties again and again. Without me there to enjoy it. Now I needed to enjoy it.

“I’d like that.” She looked up at me, smoky need in her eyes as well. Relief and desire crashed through me and I picked up our pace. Not a second to waste.

“Then let’s go.”

We nearly tripped over each other as we got back to the hotel, laughing as we passed the woman at the front desk. We touched each other as we could, hand to hand, leaning in to each other. I fumbled with the old-fashioned room key. Sometimes the charm of small, boutique hotels was also their downfall, with spindly legs on antique chairs and funny little locks that didn’t open unless you messed with them just right. I didn’t have time to mess with a lock on the door. I wanted to mess with my woman.

Finally inside our room, I swept Ana up in my arms and carried her over to the couch. We sat down and I gathered her onto my lap. She felt so perfect in my arms, exactly the right blend of curvy and slender, just the right size against me. Like we were made for each other.

She kicked off her shoes and rested her head against my shoulder, trailing her fingers along my bicep. Just that one touch set my pulse to racing. I let her roam, explore, touching the ink that adorned my arm. Her smooth fingertips, so innocent, so neutral and simply curious.

I took off my shirt to give her more access. Closing my eyes I breathed her in, the scent of her, the way she enjoyed me. Until her fingers drifted down, along my chest, down across my ab muscles. My cock pressed against my jeans, hard for her, proclaiming my need. Her fingers dipped lower and stroked along my bulge, driving me mad with her lazy exploration.

“You’re so big, Ash.” The way she said it had none of the studied flirtatiousness, the practiced delivery of typical lines. It had none of the, ‘Oh, baby, you’re the man!’. It was all sincerity, an exclamation of discovery as she admired my length, running her fingers along it.

“You like how big I am?” I grit out, clenching my teeth, my fists balled into the couch.

“Oh, yes.” Her voice sounded breathy and full of desire. “You’re amazing. I’ve never…” Her words dissolved into kisses along my jaw, my neck. “I’ve never felt…”

“I love how you feel.” I kissed her cheek, her ear, her throat. “I’ll never get enough.”

“It’s crazy.” She was breathing heavier now and I eased her out of her shirt, unclasping her bra to grasp her full mounds in my palms.

“I don’t know what you do to me,” I murmured, not exaggerating at all. I’d always had an insatiable appetite, always been up for some fun, but that didn’t begin to explain the way I felt with Ana. It couldn’t be put into words, this fevered need, this intense connection. I didn’t know what it was, and I sure as hell had never felt anything like it before. I’d had her so many times over the past couple days, but still I raged for her, wanting, needing more.

“I want to play with you, Ana.” I licked her ear and whispered. “Take off your jeans for me. I want to watch you undress.”

Slowly, she stood up, smiling at me shyly. I stretched my legs out, watching her from the couch, my hand down to the crotch of my jeans. Her unstudied movements got to me like none other. Tongue out for a brief, nervous flick, she bit her plump bottom lip. She unfastened the top button, then looked up at me for guidance.

I stroked my cock through my jeans and nodded to her, urging her on. “That’s it, baby. Now unzip for me.”

She swallowed nervously, still not used to putting on a show. But I liked watching her, and I could tell she was getting turned on doing it for me. Slowly, she drew down her zipper, then hooked her thumbs inside the loosened waistband.

“I had to stand outside all those changing rooms today. Knowing you were inside them doing this, again and again. Now I want you to do it for me, Anika. Slip those off for me.”

Sliding her jeans down her gorgeous curves, she bent down to get them all the way off, then stepped away from them in just her panties.

“Now go put on those heels I bought you and show me how you look.”

I hated to wait. I wanted to sink into her so badly it hurt. But I knew waiting would make it even hotter when I did finally take her. Because that was certain, I was going to take her and I was going to take her hard.

Finally, she returned, her hips swaying as she walked over to stand in front of me. Her nipples stood out firm and hard, showing me how arousing she found this, displaying herself for my pleasure. She looked so damn fine, perched up on those heels with her long, sexy legs.

“Show me your ass, honey.” I unzipped my jeans and eased out my cock. I needed it in my hand for this, she looked so good. She turned for me, giving me a good look at her ripe ass, the lace of her panties grazing the middle of her cheeks. High-cut, just how I liked it.

“That’s good.” My voice sounded thick and gruff.

She swallowed and turned to face me again, her gaze riveted down at my cock where I stroked its length. Her lips parted and she gave a light groan at the sight of it, engorged, veins running its length, pulsing and raw with need for her. I could see her clench her thighs together in response.

“You want this?” I held my thick cock in my palm, a drop of precome on the tip. She whimpered and licked her lips. “I still want to play with you a little first. Can you take that, baby?” She bit her lip and nodded slowly, as if she weren’t 100% sure.

I stroked my long, hard length, picturing vividly how good it would feel to sink deep inside of her. She’d be so wet for me, I could tell, the way she watched my every move, panting. “It’s hard to wait, isn’t it?” I teased her and she whimpered again.

“Slip off those panties.” She did it without having to be asked twice. “Now show them to me.”

Her eyes widened at my command. “Wh-what?” she stammered.

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” I told her sternly. We’d never really gotten into control and domination. The past couple of days, I’d just lost myself in her like a kid finally loose in a playground. But I was an experienced man and I knew how to intensify pleasure, how to elevate arousal and push right up against boundaries for the most heightened response.

I also knew she was an innocent. But I could sense her response, how wet it made her when I took control. She’d like what I had in store for her. But I had to go slow, introduce her at her own pace. Starting with making her show me her panties.

Shaking slightly, she brought the lacy underwear over for my inspection.

“Show me the crotch.”

Now she really trembled, like she’d been naughty and called in to see the boss. Biting that lip again, she held out the crotch of her panties to me, displayed along her finger. The silk was all wet and slick from her arousal.

I drew my index finger along the evidence, sliding it down the wet silk. Then I brought it up to my mouth and sucked my finger. She watched me and moaned.

“You’ve been naughty,” I whispered, husky. Her mouth opened and she gasped. I loved seeing the shock and arousal course through her. “You’re turned on, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she whispered, transfixed.

“Put your hands by your sides,” I ordered, my voice rough. “Keep them there.” She looked at me a second more before slowly moving her hands to her sides.

“Now come sit on my lap.” Completely naked, she moved over to sit on me. I could tell she was instantly aware of her vulnerability, her exposure. I’d show her how that heightened awareness, that edge of tension could push her pleasure even further than she’d ever imagined.

“That’s good,” I praised her, bringing a hand to her hair, stroking it. She leaned into my touch, seeking it out, needing it. “Sit up straight,” I told her.

She sat, spine straight, coiled tight. Caressing her skin, I brought a hand down to her naked breast. “Your breasts are beautiful, Ana.”

I knew my calloused fingers must feel rough on the soft, sensitive skin of her breast. She shivered at my touch as I massaged her, cupping her ripe mound. Her eyes closed slightly, surrendering to the intensity of her feelings.

“Open your eyes,” I told her and she did, wide. “Watch how you respond to me.”

She tilted her head down and watched as I worked her breasts with both of my hands, circling, stroking, palming her. I wanted her to see everything, to watch her response as I took her further. Her nipples were stiff and pointing out, aching and throbbing for my touch. I wanted her to watch and get as turned on as I did when I tweaked them.

“Are you watching?” I asked, sternly. Her breathing picked up as she looked down, watching my hands on her. “Now feel this.” I brought my fingers up to her pebbled tips and pressed them between my large, rough thumbs and forefingers. Pinching, I watched her face. I twisted her nipples in my fingers and she moaned, deeply, pushing her ass down into my crotch. With her legs slightly parted, every inch of her completely bare, I could feel the wetness between her legs. Her slick center, slippery and aching for me. She pressed it against my thigh, the pain at her nipples rocketing pleasure directly to in her core.

Caressing again, rewarding her for her responsiveness, I swirled my hands along her skin, her waist, her back. She was so lovely, like one of the marble sculptures we saw at the Louvre, a vision of feminine perfection. So desirable, melting men into lava. Right now, I wanted to do that to her.

“Anika,” I murmured to her, low and seductive, a hand at her throat. “Do you feel good?”

She caught her breath, her eyelids fluttering. “Yes,” she whispered, throaty.

“Good. Now stand up,” I ordered, helping her comply by lifting her at her waist. She moved so easily in my hands, so fluid and wanting. “Put your hands here.” I motioned down to the arm of the couch, where she could steady herself. And offer herself up. She looked at me, questioning for a moment. Then she did as she was told, placing her hands down on the arm of the couch.

“That’s it,” I praised her, bringing my hands to her hips, easing her back toward me. So naked, so bare, she complied, letting me pull her back until her back was straight. Then I brought my feet between hers and pushed her legs further apart, one leg out to the side, then the other. Spreading out her thighs for me.

“Oh, Ana,” I murmured, taking a moment to just look at her. Not bound, not tied in any way, just offering herself up to me. Hands on the arm of the couch, her slim back extended, the slight dip in her lower back rising into the curve and swell of her buttocks. With a hand on either side of her hips, I gave her a slight adjustment, angling her sex further up so I could see her.

Dripping with need, her slit looked so slippery, so ready. “So wet for me,” I groaned, sliding a finger down to her folds. She groaned and pushed against me, liking my touch, wanting more. “Oh, no,” I chided her, removing my hand. “You need to show me how you can take it, Ana. You need to be still for me. Can you do that?”

She whimpered, shivering under my touch. But she brought her hips back where I’d placed them and remained still.

“Good girl.” I brought my palm back to her ass, her inner thigh, caressing her. She’d never played this kind of game before, I knew that. The heady sensation that I’d be her first, the first and the only man to show her how good it felt to hold back, restrain, until you got right to the brink. Then the explosion would rock you to your core. I wanted her to come so hard she’d black out. I’d be right there to catch her.

Now that she was still, I brought my fingers back where she needed them, right at her slick center. I stroked and thrust, working her, dialed in completely to her every response. I circled her clit, pressing in, pushing against that sensitive button. But when she’d start to whine and pant, when I could see her nipples stiff and tense and her legs quivering and hear a cry forming in the back of her throat, I’d ease off. Bringing my hand away, I gave her a gentle caress on the swell of her ass, a teasingly light stroke along her thighs.

“Uh! Ash!” she cried out, her head dropping down. She bit her lip in frustration, so desperate to come.

“You need to come, don’t you, Ana?” I watched every second of it, her plump sex flushed and throbbing, dripping with arousal. It would feel so good to sink into her, eat her juicy goodness, lick and bite her and feel her come right into my mouth. But my cock pounded hard with need, too. So many temptations, so little time. We were due to fly out in just a couple hours.

“I want you to know, Ana.” I caressed her as I talked, stroking her trembling thighs, hips, giving her slick folds attention, then removing it. “One day I’m going to play with you for hours. I’m going to tie you down and see how much you can take. How many orgasms you can beg to have. Do you think you’d like to beg me, Ana?”

“Yes, Ash,” she responded so quickly it almost made me smile in victory. There would be time to do that, to savor her eagerness. But not right now. Now, I needed to plunder it.

Reluctantly, I grabbed another condom from the pocket of my coat. How good it would feel to sink into her with no barrier, flesh against flesh. The thought made me swell even bigger, if I could bury all of my shaft directly into her wet core.

But sheathed and ready, I stood pressed against her, holding her hips to me.

“Do you have a tight grip?” I growled. She spread her fingers against the arm of the couch, taking me seriously. I’d fucked her hard against the headboard yesterday morning. Now I’d fuck her hard from behind. “I know you need to come, Ana. So now I want you to come on my cock.”

Without another word, I brought the thick crown of my cock to her slippery entrance. In one long, strong thrust I entered her, filling her to the hilt. I groaned, deep and feral, the animal within me taking over. She cried out and I could tell it was a lot, I was a lot to take at this angle. But I couldn’t hold back, not with Ana. Not when she owned me, completely. I needed to consume her completely in return.

She held her own, pushing her ass back into me as I started fucking her. Plunging deep into her, sinking in again and again, taking her and making her mine.

“So good, just like that.” I grabbed onto her hips and rode her, thundering into her, making her entire body jolt and bounce with my force. I loved the sight of my cock ramming into her, the slickness of her sex coating me, how eagerly she took me in, strained against me for more. She was the ultimate partner, as insatiable and crazed as me.

“Mine,” I grunted out, not even knowing what I was saying, what I meant, but feeling the word in every bone of my body. Every throb, every thrust, I was taking what was mine. What I would cherish and protect, guard and defend the rest of my life. Mine.

“Ash,” she called out.

“Yes,” I managed as I sank into her, my teeth to her shoulder.

“Harder, Ash!” she begged me, her voice hoarse with need. “Harder.” I dug my fingers into her hips, pistoning into her. If any of me had been holding back, afraid of bruising her, hurting her, frightening her with my lust, that all got stripped away with her plea. She wasn’t supporting much of her weight on her feet anymore, up on her tiptoes, her hands pushing against the couch, my hands fastening her pussy exactly where I wanted it, where she needed it.

“Are you going to come for me?” I asked, feeling her start to tense and shudder.

“I’m going to—! Ah!” She started screaming as her orgasm hit her, slamming into her like a tidal wave.

“Come on my cock!” I roared, my own come jettisoning out as she did as she was told, coming all around my shaft. I came hard, grabbing her hips and thrusting hard and deep into her. I’d never felt anything so good, the liquid gold of her honey, the sounds of her desire cresting, breaking. Her surrender as I continued to thrust into her, milking every last shudder, taking every remaining peak from her orgasm. She cried out as intense pleasure wracked her body, her quivering release and slick juices surrounding my throbbing shaft.

“Yes!” I cried out. Yes to this, to her, to whatever we had between us, raw and alive and so intense, pulsing and pulling us closer and closer together.

I dropped down, my face to her back. I took her into my arms and swept her as gently as I could down with me onto the floor. She lay there on my chest as we breathed together, hard, neither of us able to form many words. Each of us joined together in awe of what we had together.

That night on the plane, Ana slept. I could feel sleep tugging at me as well, pulling me into deep slumber. She made me feel so damn good. And it wasn’t just the mind-numbing pleasure of sinking into her. That went way beyond anything I’d felt before. It was how she made me feel, deep in my chest, when she looked up at me and smiled. When she teased me. When we played music together, her fingers finding the very keys I’d been seeking. It was some kind of magic.

That was one of the reasons Lola’s voicemail message from earlier that day didn’t sit right with me. She’d called to let me know everything was all set for tomorrow night, our New Year’s show in Vegas. The night I was going to propose to Ana, on stage in front of thousands of adoring fans.

“You’d better make sure she doesn’t lose it!” The ring was a loaner, of course, with a 10-carat stone worth about $300,000. “It’s a jaw-dropper,” Lola promised me.

Somehow I knew the kind of ring Lola would pick out wouldn’t suit Ana at all. Ana would want something special, not a wow-factor rock but a ring with some personal significance. Maybe her mother would know if she had any special jewelry or preferences? Family was so important to Ana, maybe there’d be a stone from a grandmother’s ring she’d want included? And inlaid, on her band, I could picture a music note. Something she loved, something that bound us together.

Wait, what I was thinking about? Designing Ana’s wedding ring? For real?

Aw, fuck. I ran my hand through my hair. I felt so twisted up. What was going on here? And was Ana feeling it, too? I knew I should talk to her about it, ask her if she wanted to give this a try, see what was really between us away from all the PR and the staged shows of affection. But I’d been too busy fucking her and now she was sleeping and then we’d plunge headlong into Vegas, baby, with my band mates and the staged event of all staged events: MARRY ME ANA on the jumbotron.

Why did part of me wish it weren’t just a set-up? Part of me, a growing part, wanted it to be real.