Blaire

My heart is pounding as I look down at him. The moonlight sweeps across his features, the angles causing him to look even more devilishly handsome than before.

Sitting in the dining room, just the two of us, he wore down my resolve. I was certain we’d share a meal and that would be that. After all, I don’t really even know this man. I barely sleep with men after three dates when I vaguely know them. Yet, here I stand, the excuse I came up with before that it is a vacation and I should live a little completely out the door.

Quite frankly, I want to sleep with him. Vacation or not, logical or not. My brain has chosen this moment to let my hormones override any sensibilities and as I look at him looking at me, I don’t even care. Any regrets I have about this later will be mine. He’s given me a hundred ways out and I’m shoving my way in.

His hands grasp my waist, his fingers biting into my hips. With a gentle, yet firm grip, he urges me to take a step toward him. To close the small distance.

The scent of his cologne fills the void between us, swirling with the warm evening air. My thighs clench together, my legs sticky from my arousal, as a grin plays across his lips.

“I’ve never had this problem before,” I gruff.

Making a show of glancing at his lap, I drag my gaze up his chest until it settles on his eyes again. “Doesn’t look like you have a problem to me.”

He bites back a laugh with a slight shake of his head. “There’s no problem there.”

“I could find out for myself if you weren’t so chatty.”

The chuckle comes now, as does a grin. “I was referring to knowing where to start, smartass.”

“Have you never done this before?” I tease.

“I’m confident when I say I’m certain I’ve never been with a woman like you before.”

There’s a kick to his tone, an almost reverence, that takes my breath away. It’s swoon or seduce and I choose the latter.

“Well then, let me show you.” Prying one of his hands off my hip, I hold his gaze. Bringing it to my throat, I let the back of his fingers trail down my skin, gliding over my sternum, between my breasts. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, fighting the urge to take over. But he doesn’t. He lets me direct the moment.

My skin burns beneath his touch, a trail of unseen flames left behind his contact. My brain buzzes, almost drunk, numb to any thought other than him and me. The powerfulness coursing through my veins, that a man like this is responding to me in this way, beats any victory in a courtroom. It’s surreal.

Twisting his hand so his palm is flat as it rubs down my stomach, he turns it at the apex of my thighs. Cupping my sex through my dress, the fabric sinks into the dampness under his palm.

His eyes flick to mine.

“Is that wet enough for you, Holt?” I ask, lifting a brow.

He doesn’t answer. Instead, my dress is bunched up and held in place at my waist. The air brushes against my bared vagina and I feel incredibly exposed. The sensation startles me for a brief, fleeting moment. He erases any sense of bewilderment with his warm, cradling gaze.

Grabbing the back of my thigh, he squeezes my leg. I try not to yelp because it doesn’t hurt, but a sound comes out as I reach my breaking point. He bites his lip to contain his amusement because he knows: I want him. I need him. But he’s not going to give it to me until he’s ready.

My legs part at his nudging, his fingers trailing up the inside of my thigh. With each inch they go higher, my heartbeat spikes a little more until the tips of his fingers reach my opening.

I suck in a hasty breath as I watch him feel, for the first time, how turned on I really am.

“My God,” he groans. “You weren’t kidding.” Pulling me toward him, he reaches farther back and inserts one long, firm finger in the middle of my slit. I moan, my body turning to gelatin, as he drags it through the wetness.

“Holt …” I gulp as my stomach clenches.

Holding the finger in the air, my desire glistens off it. “There’s one question answered. Let’s answer another.”

“Which is that?”

Looking me dead in the eye, he wraps his lips around his finger. My jaw drops as his eyes light up. “You taste amazing.” He winks.

Before I can react, before I can come up with a witty response, he’s dipping a finger inside me again. It goes in slow and even I can feel my body squeezing around it. He works it inside, his other hand gripping my bare ass, before sliding it out and inserting it again. With each stroke, the flame in my belly grows hotter.

My fingers dig into his hair and tug his head back, capturing his mouth with mine. He strums my pussy, like a key to an ignition, as his tongue wraps around mine and strokes it to the same tune.

He pulls back, giving my bottom lip a gentle bite, before burying his head in my chest. He kisses across the top of my breasts, before tugging down the neckline of my dress. My tit pops free of my bra, sitting atop the white lace.

His tongue coats a budded nipple, working a small circle around the engorged flesh. As he sucks it into his warm mouth, his inserts a second finger into my pussy and it’s all I can do not to scream out in delight.

I can’t focus on either sensation. Every synapse is firing, misfiring, and re-firing in such quick succession that I can’t make sense of any of it. All too soon, he pulls away from my chest and his fingers slow.

My breath ragged, my sight fuzzy, I release the back of his head and stand straight. “What are you doing?”

“I’m about to do you.”

Needing a release, I swirl my hips against his hand. This only makes him pull it away altogether.

“Take off your dress,” he orders as he unfastens his belt.

“But …” I look around the balcony. “Here?”

“I’m not waiting to get inside you.”

His pants, shoes, and socks are placed on the chair, his shirt joining them. Holt Mason stands in front of me, a chiseled portrait of absolute perfection. His muscles are created, not swollen or pumped by a chemical, but designed … maybe by God and maybe by a trainer. I don’t know. But I’d like to thank them.

He takes a condom and rolls it over the top of his swollen cock. While he does this, he watches me expectantly.

Any hesitation I had about getting naked on a balcony is gone. I’d remove my clothes for him in the middle of the street if he told me to right now. This is completely ridiculous, I’m aware of that, but I. Just. Don’t. Care.

My dress and bra join his clothes in a heap behind him. He takes a few, calculated steps my way.

“From here on out, I’m in control,” he breathes. “I will take care of you in every way, but you need to trust me.”

“I don’t know you well enough to trust you,” I whimper as he wraps his arm around me and pulls me into his chest.

“Then give me a chance to earn it.”

When I don’t respond, his eyes light up. He presses a gentle kiss to the middle of my lips, before turning me around.

His breath is hot against the shell of my ear, his cock heavy and hard at the small of my back. Moving a lock of hair fallen from my bun, he presses another kiss to the side of my neck. “Bend over and grab the railing in front of you,” he whispers.

Looking over my shoulder, I’m silenced by what I see.

Lust. Control. Consideration.

A man in power.

And, for the first time in my life, I’m okay with giving up that power for one night.

As I grip the rail, my hands sweaty and threatening to slip, he positions himself behind me. The tip of his cock parts my pussy and hovers right at the opening.

Before he slides into me, he pauses. “If you start to fall, I have you.” And then he presses into the wetness, parting me into two halves, and bringing me more pleasure than I’ve ever allowed myself to enjoy.