Butterflies swirl in my stomach. It's tonight.

I find Aiden in the hall when I knock at the door. My reaction is completely unexpected and new. He makes black tie look good. His tuxedo is immaculately fitted and tailored, and he looks like he's moving when he's standing still. When he takes a few strides into my room wearing his white dinner jacket, he might have just stepped off the set of a James Bond movie. He has a big box tucked under his arm, which he rests on my bed.

"I have a request," he says, turning.

I feel wildly underdressed in a hoodie and yoga pants. I've been poring over the clothes he bought me for an hour, and I’ve realized I don't really have anything formal.

"I've brought you something. I’ll take the boys and head over to the gala now. I'd rather you not put this on until I've left. Maria will be driving you over to the museum."

"Why?"

"I'll meet you there. Just trust me."

My stomach sinks. "It's because this is public."

His expression turns neutral. "I can't pull up to the red carpet with a hundred light bulbs flickering and draw my business partner's daughter out of the car. I can't spin you and show you off to the world, and it hurts."

"I'm sure," I say, colder than I mean to.

I know he's right. If he tried I'd protest and offer the same reasons.

God, I saw the guest list. My father will be at this thing. If he saw us like this…

As Aiden leaves, I catch his arm. "Wait. You're right. I'm sorry."

"So am I," he says, kissing my cheek. "I can't wait to see you in that."

I open the box and lift out my evening gown. Shivers pass through me when it unfurls in my hands, rich blue silk the color of a stormy night. There are matching gloves and shoes.

I lock the door. I shimmy out of my clothes, and I slip into this. There's a short zippered section behind my neck that holds the whole thing closed, baring my back, shoulders, and arms. The gloves go up just past my elbow.

When I look in the mirror I see someone else, the heroine of some noir thriller in a slinky, form-fitting dress. My heart speeds up a little. Is this how he wants to see me?

I wonder if he'll know I'm not wearing a bra. Obviously I can tell, but… And then there's the underwear. Black lace. Silk stockings. I've never worn a garter belt before in my life, until tonight. The shoes have modest heels, not enough to make me feel wobbly but enough that when I walk around, I feel like I'm on borrowed legs.

This feels like being myself and not myself at the same time. I touch up my makeup and lipstick—a cool, bluish-red tone—and put on the choker necklace. The jewelry and makeup have a strange effect in the mirror, like my eyes are glowing.

Leaving takes more effort and time than I expected. I have to suck up my courage before I meet Maria outside in the hall.

She looks at me as she might a sack of potatoes. A smelly, rotten sack of potatoes she has to drag to the garbage, then come back and clean up the icky, black, rotten potato gunk from the floor.

I shouldn’t care what she thinks, but I feel more than a little deflated.

"Time to deliver you."

"Okay," I say, still nervous.

Maria is silent in the elevator as we descend. She doesn't say a word on the way out either, and opens the car door without comment. A little awkward in this dress, I have to rest my hand on the doorframe as I lower my butt onto the seat.

She snaps the door shut so fast I barely get my legs and hand inside, like she’s trying to break my fingers. I open my mouth to say something, but stop myself. The idea makes me nervous, churning my stomach. Did I anger her somehow?

Is there a growing sense of hostility between us, or is it me? It's probably only my nerves. I dismiss it and sit back for the ride.

Maria sits next to me, working on her phone as if I don’t exist.

A sudden nervous energy descends as I watch the city sliding by. It's sundown and everything is painted in red and gold, long shadows clinging to the feet of passers by on the sidewalk. I still feel like an alien here, a stranger in a strange land.

My stomach tightens and tightens as we near the museum. It's not like before. It's not empty. There are people. I need coffee. Lots of coffee.

The car stops, and I find myself staring through the window at the steps, lined on either side by photographers pressing against the velvet rope. My heart catches in my throat when I see the other guests ascending, stopping to pose in front of the cameras. Am I supposed to do that?

There are movie stars here. I think I know the woman in the black dress at the top of the stairs. Not personally; I've seen her in movies. Trembling, I reach for the door.

Maria opens it, stone-faced as ever. I step out, and the flashes go off. I can see the photographers looking at each other, wondering who the hell I am. I force myself to go slowly—no mean feet when my legs feel like cement, but my heart feels like a pump that's been cranked up to eleven. I fight the urge to hide my face, and the rising pit of nausea in my stomach, and stride up the stairs.

I stop at the top, and the flashes go crazy. I'm not posing, just waiting behind everyone else as they're checked off the guest list. This is what Aiden meant by the public eye, and this is only a little taste. My guts twist. What if he’s right and I can’t handle it?

Remember to smile.

Smile, you little bitch, my father hisses. Remember I paid for those teeth.

I step up, and a hostess in a costume that reminds me of a magician's assistant takes my name and crosses me off a list, like any other guest.

Relief washes over me as I step inside, but the nausea doesn't fade.

Aiden turns and catches a glimpse of me, then does a literal double-take. He stares, his face going pale as his eyes rake me up and down from toes to eyes, lingering on every curve. The silk felt too sheer already. Now I feel naked.

He senses my unease and strides over, a flute of champagne in hand. He offers it.

"I'm not old enough."

"Ginger ale. I don’t drink."

"Oh," I say, slugging some back. He's right. It's just soda.

"It makes you look calmer. Don't worry. You belong here."

"Thanks." I sigh.

"You are absolutely gorgeous."

"The dress makes me look nice, I suppose."

He smiles. "No. It's the other way around. It looks good on you."

"I thought I hated blue, but I should have trusted you."

"Come with me."

I take his arm, and he leads me inside. The information booth in the grand lobby is draped in white silk. In front of it is a scale model of the entire city. Aiden leads me up to it and passes his hand through it.

A delighted smile lights up my face. I stick my arm through the light, amazed.

"It's a hologram or something," I say.

"Neat trick, eh? Let's go look at the architectural models."

Draped tables display Aiden's plans all along the staircase and the landing. A model of the redevelopment project takes center stage below the bronze statue. Admirers already surround it, murmuring to each other.

Aiden has more staff, all women in leggy magician's assistant costumes, wandering around with glass globes collecting donations. Some have little signs promising the money to the museum, others to the homeless.

"This is wonderful," I tell him. "You're doing a lot of good with this."

"Good doesn't pay the bills," a familiar voice grumbles.

My father took the elevator. He's not truly confined to his wheelchair but he's in it anyway, a sleek, self-propelled model with gaudy gold plating on the obnoxious wheels. If there's anyone who could make a conveyance for the handicapped seem gaudy and ostentatious, it's him. I'm surprised he didn't work some marble onto it somewhere.

He's dressed in a black tux, a silk blanket draped over his legs. He glares at us as he glares at everything, with dark circles around his too-sharp eyes, the only young feature in the face of a man who's old enough to be my grandfather. Almost great-grandfather. His nurse, a busty blonde of dubious medical credentials, hovers behind his chair in a sleek white evening gown.

He looks at me. "Aiden, what is this? I thought you'd hired an escort."

He says it loud enough that several other people turn their heads, then quickly find something else to occupy their attention.

I can't. It hits me like a slap, making me wobble on my heels.

"I sent you here to further your education, not play dress-up," he snaps.

"Did you just call me a hooker?" I blurt out.

"When I want your input, I'll ask for it," he hisses, dismissing me.

Aiden steps between us. "She set all this up, Roland. Give her a night to shine."

"Shine," Roland snaps. "Funny word for dressing like a tart."

Aiden bristles. I can almost see his body changing. He looks suave in his tuxedo when relaxed, but now his muscles bulge under the silk. Even his neck tightens.

"What will they think of me when they see my daughter—"

"Dressed like every woman here?" Aiden says, glancing around. "Rather modestly by comparison, I think, and much more elegant."

Roland eyes us both suspiciously. "I don't like her showing herself off."

"Not unless you do the showing, apparently," Aiden cuts in. “She mentioned something about serving drinks.”

I shudder. Don’t do this, Aiden. He’s too important. I reach for his arm to try to pull him away before they break out in an argument.

"Hi!" a fourth voice chirps. A petite redhead in a black gown slashed with gold cloth struts up to us carrying a glass of champagne, ignoring Roland entirely. It takes me a few blinks to realize that the gold parts of her dress must have real gold thread woven into them. The diamond necklace around her throat puts mine to shame, and she wears a tiny tiara that somehow doesn't look absurd.

"You're Aiden Byrne, right? My husband and I are huge fans."

Roland wheels off, his nurse glaring at me, while this stranger grins at Aiden. I take a spot next to him.

"Oh, hi," she says to me. "Oh, crap, I didn't introduce myself. Persephone Marshall. Call me Penny."

"Persephone?" I blurt out.

"Sorry." She shrugs her narrow shoulders. "My parents were hippies. Cruel hippies."

I laugh. "You think that's bad, try Delilah."

"Oh, this must be your Samson," she says, patting Aiden's chest.

A tall, dark-haired man sweeps up behind her.

Aiden…bows. He bends at the waist, just so. I stand there, wondering if I should do the same thing. I tip my chin forward a little and cough.

"Your Grace," Aiden says.

"Aiden."

"Your what?" I blurt out.

Aiden gestures. "Prince Kristoff and Princess Persephone," he offers. "This is my…ah…this is Delilah."

The man looks at me. "Your Delilah. Very well. May I borrow Delilah's Aiden?"

"Lilah, we have to talk. Do you mind?" Aiden says.

"I, uh," I start.

Penny finishes. "She doesn't. Come on."

She grabs my wrist and leads me away from the men, up to the third floor.

"Are you his girlfriend?" she asks me when we reach the top.

"I…what?"

She grins. "Sorry. You get used to being able to be forward with people when you're royalty."

I stare at her tiara. "So you… You're a princess."

"Yup!"

"Why do you have a thick Joisey accent?"

She laughs. "I'm from Little Egg Harbor, that's why. It's a long story. I'd love to tell you. We're in the States for a week, and I'll have to find something to do while Kristoff meets with the President or something." She talks so fast she stumbles over her own words, and sighs. "I'm supposed to give this talk on education to the United Nations on Tuesday, and I keep putting off writing the speech."

I stare at her.

"What?" She shakes her head. "Yeah, it's weird how I've gotten used to this, I know. So who are you, Lilah? Tell me about yourself."

"You know Roland Greymane?"

"Oh, he's a dick," she blurts out. "Oh crap, he's your dad, isn't he?"

I sigh and roll my eyes. "Yes."

"Sorry—"

"Don't apologize," I sigh. "You're not wrong. That was him down there. Apparently I'm dressed like a slut." I glance down at myself.

Penny gestures at me with her gloved hand. "Blue is your color, honey."

"You look good in black."

"It's our colors. Royal house and all that." She points at her tiara. "I feel completely ridiculous in this thing."

I snort. "You wear it pretty well."

"The boys have had their moment. Let's go see what they're up to."

On the grand landing, we find Aiden speaking with the prince and a third man with black hair in a close-cropped military haircut with a scar running down the side of his face. Standing next to him is the tallest woman I've ever seen, though the heels are part of that. Her red hair is in a wavy pixie cut, and, oddly enough, she has a long scar down the same side of her face as her companion.

I feel like I've interrupted something as I approach.

Penny steps up to her husband and takes his arm. Aiden offers me his. I hesitate for a moment and then take it, just long enough to be drawn into the circle.

"This is Lilah Greymane,” Aiden says, introducing me.

The scarred man tenses.

"You don't need to worry, Jacob. Lilah, Jacob, and Jennifer."

I feel like these people all know each other, and I'm on the outside of something secret.

"The prince and the Kanes are investors in the redevelopment project," Aiden explains. "Prince Kristoff is particularly interested in our agroscience and robotics divisions."

"My wife and I must…mingle," the prince almost growls. Penny grins and tugs on his arm.

The little gathering breaks up.

"What's up with the scars?" I whisper to Aiden.

"They tell me they cut themselves shaving," Aiden says. "I don't pry. They're bringing a lot of money to this. In return I'm investing in some experimental farming techniques in their hometown, and we're both joining a campaign to ban the overuse of antibiotics as growth aids in cattle."

"I see," I say, smirking. "More saving the world."

We stop at highest landing. "There must be something you're interested in. A little corner of the world we can save together. Name it, and I'll start putting together a team."

I blink a few times. "Really?"

He takes my hands and nods. "Really."

I pull my hands free.

"What's wrong?"

"We can't get too physical. We don't know who's watching."

"I don't care," he growls, stepping towards me.

I catch him with a hand on his chest. It exhilarates me to feel all that power stopping at my command, a raw mass of muscle pulsing beneath my palm. I almost forget what I was going to say as I stare up at him in anticipation. My hand drifts lower, skimming down the pleated front of his tuxedo shirt.

He grabs my wrist. "I thought we weren't going to get physical."

I smirk and tug my hand loose. "What would happen to you if my father knew?"

He frowns. "That doesn't matter."

"It matters to me if it would hurt you."

"I can deal with him."

"Can you? I know you two are pretty twisted up together."

"Kristoff and Jacob Kane have more than enough money, and they've bought into the company."

"That's not enough," I say, leaning on the balustrade beside him. "I'm no fool, Aiden, and I paid attention to my studies. I started learning business when other girls learn algebra."

"All right, then. Your father put up a great deal of seed money when I was starting out. He was repaid in a prodigious amount of stock. He's the second-largest shareholder."

"You had an IPO, though," I point out. "So there are institutional investors, other people like him…"

"Exactly." He sighs. "He could drum up enough support to pose a real threat if needed. I don't have a singular majority of the shares. I have to fight and appease him every step of the way for things like this."

I feel a cold shiver. "So he's trying to stop you from doing all this good. Why?"

He's quiet for a while, until I touch his arm.

He looks at me. "How am I supposed to tell his daughter he's not a good man?"

I laugh, sadly. "I'm a little insulted you thought his daughter didn't know that."

He turns around and leans back, looking at me. "What if I told you I wanted to choke his chicken neck when you told me he was having you dress up and display yourself for his friends?"

A flush of fear and…something pours through my body. Aiden looks at me so possessively, hungrily, but it's different. I edge closer, looping my arm through his, and touch my forehead to his shoulder.

"I'll take you where no one can see us," he says, "and show you things you’ve never imagined."

"You mean when we go out to your country house."

"Yes, but also now. Come on."

He takes my wrist and leads me away from the party.

The museum has closed off other sections from the gala with velvet rope. Aiden takes my hand and lifts one of the ropes, leading me through. I've been here before. This is where they have those wild constructions of rooms from other places.

He replaces the rope and leads me into the dark. My eyes take time to adjust with all the lights off. I listen as intently as he does, the sound of our breathing as loud as thunder as I worry about getting caught. He leads me through an arch, deeper into the museum.

Toward a castle bedroom. It's off limits, with a rope cordoning it off and a display just inside, explaining it all. Aiden ignores it, taking me by the waist to help me over.

"We're not supposed to be in here," I murmur.

"I know," he says. "Funny how someone put a real mattress and fresh linens on that old bed."

I feel his fingers on the back of my neck, working the zipper.

I spin and step out of my shoes before he gets it completely undone. The stones are cool under my stocking feet. I tug at his tie. Of course it's a real one, not an elastic or a zip-up or a clip-on. I don't even know how to tie a bowtie. He gets tired of my fumbling.

"You're going to choke me."

I giggle, and he pulls me close as he undoes it, laying it over the foot of the big medieval bed. As he kisses me, I spread his shirt open, running my hands inside, over his skin.

He's too warm, almost feverish. I drink the heat with my palms, then peel off my gloves to feel his skin directly. It's a little rough, a little soft, and ripples with the muscles moving underneath. I'm pulling him as he pushes me, working me toward the middle of the bed.

Aiden discards his jacket. I open his shirt and have a heart-clenching moment of doubt. I don't know what to do.

Did I say that out loud?

"Do what feels natural to you," he says. "You're in my hands now. I'll guide you."

I am in his hands. They press into the bare skin of my back, edging up to undo my dress. I untuck his shirt and touch my lips to the skin of his chest as he draws in deep breaths of my scent from my hair. My legs are shaking.

His hand skims down and into my dress, where his hand squeezes my ass. I let out a little shudder as he flicks the thin strip of material.

"A thong?" he whispers in my ear. "Now there's a surprise."

He finally undoes the zipper, but the dress clings to my body. I start to tug it down, but he stops me, letting the fabric do no more than fall away from my throat and upper chest.

Aiden kisses he me hard, then works his lips over my chin, my jaw, my throat. At first, I pull back. He slows, his movements become gentler, his lips soft and warm, tasting.

“Did I scare you there?” He asks.

“A little.”

“You’re safe with me, Lilah.”

“I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“I know. I want to make it special for you. No awkward fumbling. You don’t have to know what to do. I do. Trust me.”

He holds me tighter. I can feel his heart pounding against me. A soft smile comes over my face. The beats—his and mine—start as a subtle thump-thump-thumpthump, a dissonant beat. As I relax the two beats fall into a rhythm, a pulse between us.

Aiden’s hands glide down my back, peeling the dress away from my skin a little more. He tilts his head down and offers me his soft warm lips. This time I kiss him, but he quickly takes over, drawing me in. Commanding without being rough. Devouring me gently.

I rise on tiptoes, savoring the hot, wet, tickly touch, the way he feels when he does that with his mouth while his hands roam over my body. He gives me a little thrust, and I feel his cock press into my stomach.

A shiver ripples through my body. He senses it, his touch changing, growing subtler, the tips of his fingers skimming over my bare back, trailing sensation through my body like lanterns in the dark.

He holds my hips and presses into me again, then lets go.

It's enough to push me onto the bed. I bounce on my butt, and he steps back, pulling away his shirt. I bite my bottom lip and watch him undress. My heart catches in my throat when he lets his suspenders fall and undoes the top button of his trousers.

He knows why I'm staring. I've been thinking about this since the moment I met him, even if I suppressed it. I'm excited. I'm afraid. I'm full of anticipation. I'm breathing hard, sweat prickling on my back and chest just from the thought of it. I’ve felt it, sensed it, run fingers over it, but never seen it. Now I find out what I’ve gotten myself into. What’s going to get into me.

The thought sends a nervous giggle erupting from my lips, and Aiden smirks. “You’re shaking like a leaf.”

“Wouldn’t you be?”

“Would I?” he says.

“I can’t ever see you shaking like a leaf about anything,” I say, staring at the waistline of his pants as they sink lower, lower, threatening to expose the base of his cock.

Aiden thrusts his trousers down and exposes himself. His cock springs free, bigger and thicker and harder than I had any idea it could be. Anticipation floods through me, twisting with the same throbbing thought: That's too big. He's going to put that in me. My mind voices that same thought, even as my heart swells…and my legs open. I expose myself to him instinctively, presenting like an animal in heat, even with my gown covering me.

"Dress. Off. Now."

I rise to my knees and wriggle out of it, baring my breasts in a surprisingly smooth motion, saving the shiver of fear for after I'm exposed. It's absurd to think, but I can't help but wonder: Is he going to like me? I have no idea if my breasts are big enough, my stomach flat enough, if…

Aiden’s jaw drops. The look on his face thrums inside me like fingers plucking over taut strings. Anticipation, lust, hunger, even a flush of embarrassment as he pictures his mouth on my creamy skin, imagining my response as he sucks on my nipples—even as I think about the same thing. He crawls onto the bed and over me.

I sink back, breathing hard in anticipation, watching his powerful muscles work. I rise, and our lips meet, my hands on his body, skimming over his flexing form as pulls down my dress. I wriggle out of it, and then I’m naked under him, buzzing all over with anticipation. I’ve never felt so vulnerable, so truly vulnerable in my life. Every nerve ending is screaming at me to curl up in a little ball, until he kisses me again, catching my bottom lip gently in his teeth. He tugs lightly, drawing me out of my tremor. Instinct takes over. Want. I reach for him.

I dumbly paw at his cock, wrapping my fingers around it. I always knew it would be hard. Stiffy, hard-on, and those description of iron-hard hot bars in my Vanessa Waltz books could not prepare me for this. I want it so badly it hurts. I'm on my back before I even think and spread my legs wide, pulling him toward me.

He draws my hand away and leans down to kiss me. "You want a hard fucking, don't you?" he whispers in my ear.

I can't articulate how badly I want it, not with words. I clutch at him, invite him, tug on him. I need him.

Wait, do I? Hard fucking?

He lies on top of me and I think now, yes, this is it, do it, fuck me.

He doesn't. He kisses me. "Do you know what I wanted you to do when I first saw you?"

"Have sex?" I blurt out.

He laughs, and I laugh with him, the tension inside me making me as giggly as any wine.

"No," he murmurs in my ear. "I wanted you to get down on your knees and suck my cock. I wanted to see those soft lips of yours wrapped around my shaft and your eyes begging me to fill you up."

I feel him. The underside of his shaft strokes my pussy as his muscles contract. A throbbing clenching makes it feel like my body is reaching out for him.

Please just do it!

"Fuck me," I whisper.

"No. Here's your first lesson. Bad girls suck cock, Lilah. Good girls swallow.”

“Oh,” I say, trying to sound flirty so I don’t sound like a nervous fool. Oh, God, he’s right there, please put it in… “So you did have designs on me.”

“Didn’t you?”

I blink. “What?”

He strokes my side, his fingers skimming along the outer curve of my breast. It feels so good, but so intense that I wince.

“You came to me in that little outfit. Pencil skirt and fuck-me pumps. Don’t tell me you didn’t want to be noticed.”

He rolls onto his back and grabs me. I move to straddle him, but his grip is too strong. He settles me down next to him, resting his arm around my shoulders. My head falls on his stomach, and I rest my hand on his shaft, curling my fingers around it. It pulses, just slightly, when I touch him. I flinch back.

“It’s not going to bite you.”

I snort, giggling. His hand glides down my bare back and takes a handful of my ass, squeezes.

I take Aiden in my mouth.

Then I feel the heat of it on my tongue, the scent of him filling my lungs, and it's happening. I slide my lips over the thick head and down his shaft, and he moans softly.

He moans. It feels good. I'm making him feel good. I grow even more excited, slipping between his legs. He brings them together and takes my hair in his hand, his other caressing my neck as I suck.

God, he's getting even harder. Hotter. Quivering in my mouth. I feel pulses against my tongue, like he's holding back.

He drags me off him.

"Stop," he barks, too loudly.

The sound echoes in the empty museum wing. I shudder, wondering if anyone heard us.

His cock is throbbing, a pearly bead of precum clinging to the tip. I flick it off with the tip of my finger and caress it against my nipple, watching his dick shudder.

My head is spinning. I don’t understand what’s happening. I just had him in my mouth. I was sucking on it. We’ve fooled around before, but this is different. I am scared, but I can’t stop staring at him. It’s like sitting on the crest of a roller coaster, waiting for the screaming downward rush to start. My heart goes a mile a minute, and I shiver, suddenly freezing.

The ripple of his body entrances me. He rolls me onto my back and kisses me, hard. My eyes fly open in shock. I didn't think he'd want to after I did that, but he's even hungrier for me now.

“I'm going to come inside you now, and you're going to come for me. I own you, and when I say come, you come."

"Yes, sir," I whisper, adding the title by instinct.

"That's a good girl," he whispers.

"But I'm still only a bad girl," I whisper, surprised at how eager I am to swallow him. The thought used to make me a little sick, but it's different now. I want it, but not as much as I want to feel him finishing inside me.

"You feel so good," he says, stroking me between my legs.

"Fuck me."

I can’t believe I said that. Am I crazy? Look at the size of that thing. All the things that could happen to me run a marathon through my head, spinning me up into a nervous frenzy. Everything I’m scared of, I want to try. Is he going to get on top of me? Hold me down? He knows what he’s doing, and I’m just repeating things I heard. What if I mess this up?

Is it weird that I want him to hold me down? To feel his hands on my arms, my body? His weight on me?

"You're not ready, and stop trying to tell me what to do. Who's in charge here?"

"You are," I say eagerly.

"That's right,” he says, as his finger penetrates me. “Easy,” he murmurs. “I’ve got you. I’m not going to hurt you, Lilah.”

I groan. It's good. It's not enough, but it's good. I know what he's doing now, he's working me open so he won't hurt me. It still drives me crazy. The way he grips the back of my neck with his other hand and holds me still as he kisses me sends flares of heat through my body.

He must have decided I'm ready because his finger withdraws, and I feel the pressure of his cockhead against me. My eyes flutter open as I feel myself yield, opening around his swollen manhood. He's slow and gentle, but it's so intense I can only let out a little squeak as he settles on top of me. I feel like I'm falling and flying at the same time.

This is my first time. This is actually happening.

I start to breathe faster, gripping his arms, digging in my fingers.

Aiden grinds against me and kisses me softly as I grow used to the full weight of him and the throbbing fullness between my legs, slowly expanding to grip my entire body.

When he moves, my first thrust, I arch under him and hold him tight, my arms hooked around his at the shoulder, my hands linked behind his neck. This is incredible.

Every movement is more intense than the last, harder, faster. I thought this was supposed to hurt, but nothing has ever felt this good in my life.

"We have to be quiet," he whispers in my ear. "I want to do so many things to you that aren't quiet."

I grip him tighter and whisper, "Like what?"

"I'll bet I can make you come just by spanking you."

I shudder. "What?"

"You heard me. Think about it," he says when I can barely think about anything. "I know you want my hands on your perfect ass. I can feel it every time I touch you. You want it all, don't you?"

He thrusts deeper, if that's even possible.

"Breathe with me," he murmurs.

Aiden's cock throbs inside me as our breath begins to synchronize. I close my eyes and feel his body expanding against mine as he draws breath, and expand mine in time with his. Our heartbeats, the motion of his body and mine, our breaths—it all becomes one. A heavy, expanding feeling spreads through my body, hotter and faster, spreading under my skin. I'm losing myself in this.

My back arches under him, and I cry out, shuddering, succumbing, almost there.

"Come," he purrs in my ear, "come now."

It's like he has some magic power. He says it, and it happens. As I reach the very peak of my climax, he thrusts in deep and groans in my ear, loud and hot, as he reaches his own peak, his body quivering against mine. His hardness throbs within me as he finishes, filling me up.

Dizzy, I sink back into the bed. Every bead of sweat on my skin is a little cold spot as he lifts away, rising on his elbows and knees. Soft kisses rain on my chin and throat. I bite his lip when he kisses me, and he grins, tugging lightly on mine with his teeth. He draws out of me and kneels on the bed, tracing his finger down my belly. I shiver and twist away, every sensation too intense to handle.

Panting, I lie curled on my side in the afterglow.

"We need to get back to the party," he says, patting my back. His fingers curl in my hair, drawing it away from my face. "So how was your first time?"

"Uuuughhhhh," is all I can manage.

He kisses my cheek. "Good. That's what I was going for."

I move to dress. Aiden snatches my underwear before I can put them on and stuffs them in his pocket, a smirk on his face, eyes aglow in the gloom.

"I'm going to have these framed. Or maybe I'll just keep them on me to sniff when you're not around."

"Ewww," I blurt out, giggling.

He zips my dress, and I help him with his clothes. It's a struggle to keep my hands off him, not to pull him off the bed.

"Listen," he says, "head out the way we came. I’ll head out through the Asian art collection, then down the stairs. We have to split up."

I nod. He kisses my forehead.

"Tomorrow morning we're going to a different place, where we can just be us."

With a gentle caress, he leaves me in the dark. We sneak out and head in opposite directions. By the time I wind back around to the staircase, he's already down in the party, mingling.

I head down, yawning. I can't help but notice that Maria has spotted me, and never takes her eyes off me as I rejoin the celebration.

"Where were you?" Jason asks, appearing behind me as I arrive on the landing.

I almost jump out of my skin.

"I was upstairs looking at some historical stuff. It's an interest of mine."

He shrugs. "This party sucks, and I'm tired."

"Why don't we go ask your dad if I can take you guys home early?" I offer.

I need to get out of here. I can't shake the feeling I'm being watched.

The boys run down the stairs, meeting their father as he emerges. I start down the grand stairs and spot Maria in the crowd, standing near my father with a flute of champagne in her hand, smiling. When she looks up and sees me, she quickly turns away, but first I catch a glimpse of an icy glare, barely hidden.