I blink twice.

I'm still in Mal's arms.

In his house.

Staring into his beautiful blue eyes.

"Do me a favor and pinch me." Words fall off my lips before my brain can stop them. I bite my tongue. That's fangirl talk.

And this—us having sex—can't be about Lacey the Dangerous Noise fan and Mal the celebrity.

It has to be Lacey and Mal, the two people who are desperate to fuck each other.

His lips curl into a soft smile. "I don't pinch."

"Something."

He leans down to drag his lips up my neck. It's soft. I can barely feel it. "That enough?"

"No." I can barely get the words off my tongue. This is already so much sensation. And it's still hard to believe that he wants me.

He groans something that sounds a lot like yes. He takes my earlobe into his mouth. The pressure is soft. Then it's hard. Then he's scraping his teeth against my flesh.

He tugs at my hair just hard enough it hurts.

When he pulls back, I feel empty.

Those piercing blue eyes fix on me. "You don't get more unless you agree."

"Yes." I stare back at him. "I want to be your fuck buddy." I press my hips against his. My hands go to his hair. "Is there anything else to explain?"

"You get this is casual?"

I nod.

"I'm not going to fall in love with you."

"Me either." I hope. My heart isn't ready for another round, but Mal is sexy and smart and intense and… God, the way he's looking at me right now makes me hot all over.

I've never felt this much raw desire. I can't believe how willing I am to risk my job.

But God… I need to be fucked.

I need the desire in his eyes.

He slides his hands to my hips. "You want me to lead?"

I nod.

"I was always gonna lead."

My voice is shaky. Needy. "I know."

"Fuck, keep looking at me like that."

"Like…?" It's hard to believe I'm doing anything driving him mad with desire. He's a sex god. And I'm just me. Just Lacey.

And he's looking at me like I'm some sort of divine being.

"Like you'll fucking die if I don't fill your cunt."

I will die if he doesn't… I can't think that, much less say it. I barely manage to nod.

"Panties off."

The words barely register in my brain. Mal's actually asking me to take my panties off.

We're actually fuck buddies.

This is actually happening.

My hands seem to understand the command. They reach under my dress and slide my panties to my knees.

I step out of them and press my hips against his.

His hands go to my ass. He presses the fabric of my dress against my flesh.

Fuck, the heat of his hands.

He's close to touching me properly.

I need him touching me properly.

It's been too long. Adam and I… fuck, it was Valentine's Day.

It's been six months…

Six long, painful, horrible months…

My eyelids flutter closed as Mal leans in to kiss me.

Slowly, his lips brush against mine.

It's soft.

Then it's hard.

God, he tastes good. Like green tea and like Mal.

He scoops me into the couch with him.

It's a messy landing, but Mal doesn't waste any time. He presses his back against the sofa, his legs spread in an incredibly inviting position.

He pulls me onto his lap and pushes my dress to my waist.

I'm bottomless in Mal's lap.

And he's dragging his hand up my thigh.

His fingers skim my clit.

He brings his other hand to the back of my head and pulls me into another slow, deep kiss.

His fingers are calloused. Rough. Fuck, the friction of his touch—

I groan into his mouth.

I slide my tongue around his.

I need this. All of it. More of it. I need every ounce of his desire. Every ounce of the pleasure he can give me.

It's been too long.

Way too fucking long.

He pulls back enough to look me in the eyes. His touch gets rougher. Harder. "You want me filling that sweet cunt?"

"Yes," I breathe.

He teases me with one finger. Fuck. I need him filling me. This is enough to drive me out of my fucking mind.

My eyelids flutter closed.

"Look at me, baby."

Mal's calling me baby.

And I'm supposed to look at him.

Breathing is about all I can manage.

Somehow, I force my eyelids apart.

"You look so fucking beautiful wrecked with need." He teases me again and again.

With one finger.

Then two.

I try to hold his gaze but it's too hard. My eyelids flutter closed. My hands tug at his hair. "Mal. Please."

"Please?" His voice is deep and commanding.

Please touch me. Please fuck me. Please make me believe I deserve all this pleasure. That this is really going to happen.

That it won't end because of a technical difficulty.

That it won't end with him bored, counting stray threads on the couch.

That someone could want me.

That it's possible for sex to feel good and not be this awful mess of baggage and expectations.

"Just please," I breathe.

Slowly, he slides one finger inside me.

Then two.

"Fuck," I groan.

He pulls me into another deep kiss.

He claims my mouth with his tongue as he claims my sex with his fingers.

It's a lot of pressure.

But it feels so fucking good.

He wants me. He wants this. He wants my pleasure so much his groans are vibrating all the way down my chest.

His thumb slides over my clit.

Fuck.

I have to pull back to gasp.

This time, I keep my eyes open.

I stare back at him.

He rubs me as he fucks me with his fingers. "Come on my hand, baby."

The command makes my sex clench. I stare back into his beautiful blue eyes, watching him watch me.

My hands go to his hair.

He rubs me a little harder.

A little faster.

It's hurts in the best possible way.

With the next brush of his thumb, I go over the edge.

"Fuck, Mal."

"Say my name again, baby."

"Mal." I tug at his hair. "Fuck, Mal. I'm… fuck." My eyelids flutter closed. The tension in my sex builds to a crescendo, then everything unravels in a hell of an orgasm.

He pulls his hand to his sides.

I don't think.

I just do.

My lips crash into his. My tongue slides into his mouth. God, he tastes good, and I need every inch of him.

I pull back as I sink into his lap.

"You're hard," I groan.

His nod is heavy.

"You're… you're so fucking hard."

He brings his hands to my ass to pull my body against his.

He's hard, under me.

His cock is rubbing against my clit. Against my sex.

His damn jeans are in the way.

Still.

That's Mal.

Hard.

For me.

A man can want me.

And not any man.

A sex god like Mal.

I grind my crotch against his. I soak up every delicious bit of friction.

He pushes my straps off my shoulders. The right. Then the left. He looks up at me as he reaches around to unhook my bra.

His pupils dilate as he peels off my bra. "Fucking beautiful."

My body is in overdrive. Every part of me is humming with anticipation.

He pulls my dress over my head and tosses it on the floor. His hands go to my waist. They slide up my sides. Over my chest.

He cups my breasts.

Slowly, his thumbs brush my nipples. It's an impossibly soft touch.

"More," I groan.

His next touch is harder, but it's still too soft.

The next one too.

The next.

Fuck. Each brush of his thumb sends pangs of desire to my sex.

I grind against him, but it's not enough. I need this fabric gone.

It's been too long.

I need his cock inside me.

I stare back into his eyes. "Mal…"

"Yeah, baby?"

Fuck. The way he says baby…

He brushes his lips against my neck.

He rubs my nipples with his thumbs.

His voice is deep and commanding. "You want your hands around my cock?"

"Yes."

"You want your lips around me?"

"Yes."

"Or you want me filling that pretty pink cunt?"

"I want everything."

"Tell me where you want my cock, baby."

"Mal… Please. Fuck me."

"Unzip my jeans."

Hell yes. I shift so I can reach his jeans. My hands are shaking, but still, I manage to undo the button and the zipper.

He groans as I rub him over his boxers.

It's less fabric, but it's still far too much.

He pulls a condom from his back pocket, lifts his hips, and pushes his jeans to his knees.

Then the boxers.

That's Mal.

Hard.

And huge.

I wrap my hands around his cock. God, that feels good.

Hard flesh.

Soft skin.

That's him in my hands.

His desire.

I rub his tip with my thumb.

I pump him with a steady stroke.

I need him in my hands. In my mouth. In my sex.

I'm cock hungry.

I didn't even know I could be cock hungry, but I fucking need Mal. I need him every place I can have him.

I stare back into his eyes. "Please."

He nods as he rips the wrapper open.

He slides the condom over his cock.

I shift into position, my body over his.

He groans as his tip strains against me.

"Please." It's the only word in my brain. I need this. All of it. Now.

His hands go to my hips. He pulls my body onto his.

He fills me one delicious inch at a time.

Fuck. Yes.

"Mal…" Words fail me.

Conscious thoughts flee my brain.

I'm full.

Alive.

I stare back into his eyes as I take him deeper. It's terrifying how intense this is. How intimate it is.

This is just sex. Just fun.

But God, how I feel it…

How I need it…

I'm dizzy with this mix of need and pleasure.

I plant my hands on his shoulders and I take him as deep as I can.

"Mal," I breathe. "Fuck, you feel good."

He lets out a heavy grunt as he pulls my body up, up, up, until I've only got his tip. Then he drives me down, down, down, until he's as deep as he'll go.

He does it again.

Again.

Again.

He fucks me—or maybe I fuck him—with these long, deep strokes. Each one fills me with this deep pleasure.

But, more than that, I feel so fucking full.

I'm not empty anymore.

I'm not needing or aching or desperate.

I sink my nails into his shoulders as I take his stokes.

One hand goes to my back, to the space between my shoulder blades, and he brings my chest to his lips.

He takes my nipple into his mouth.

He sucks soft.

Then hard.

He guides me with his mouth, his hands, his cock.

I'm his plaything.

I'm his to use, to fill, to taste and tease.

My eyelids flutter closed. I lose track of everything but the sensations of his body. His cock in my sex. His tongue against my nipple. Then it's the sharp scrape of his teeth.

He looks up at me as he teases my nipples. As he fucks me. As he digs his nails into the flesh of my ass.

Damn, that's intense.

I'm almost there.

I groan his name.

I groan incomprehensible things.

"Come for me, baby." He presses his lips against my collarbone. "Come on my cock."

His voice is equal parts needy and demanding.

My body responds by tightening. All that tension in my sex builds to a fever pitch.

One more thrust, and I'm there. I'm pulsing so hard I'm sure I'm going to push him from my body.

But I don't.

"Fuck, Lacey." He tugs at my hair. "Fucking beautiful." He pulls my lips into his.

He kisses me hard as he wraps his arms around my waist.

In one swift movement, he pushes me onto my back.

He plants his body on top of mine, my legs around his hips, my chest against his chest.

And he fills me with deep, hard strokes.

Faster.

Harder.

He tugs at my hair as he thrusts into me.

He groans into my mouth.

Then he's there, his cock pulsing as he comes.

Fuck.

I can barely stand it.

He rocks through his orgasm. I can feel his pleasure in the way his thighs are shaking. In the way his groans get low and deep.

When he's spilled every drop, he pulls back enough to stare into my eyes. There's an intimacy there.

A connection.

I'm not sure what it means.

Only that I want more of it.

More of this.

All of it.

All the time.