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His hands slide up my dress, finding the edge of my underwear and tracing the lace before hooking his fingers beneath it. I lift my hips to help him, and then I’m sitting naked on the bathroom counter, my red hair tangled around my shoulders and back, my body exposed to both him and the mirror behind me.

He steps away, just for a moment, to undo his belt and to push down his pants and boxer briefs in one impatient movement. Then he’s naked too, his cock so hard it’s glistening with precum. I reach for him, but he catches my wrist and kisses the inside of it, his tongue sneaking out and swirling around.

“Not yet,” he says, kneeling before me. “I need to taste you first.”

He parts my thighs with gentle but insistent hands, and I feel vulnerable and powerful all at once, watching him look at me with such flagrant hunger. He presses a kiss to my inner thigh,then another as he moves higher, a trail of damp heat leading him to where I’m already aching for him.

His mouth covers my pussy, and the first thrust of his tongue makes me cry out. He knows what I like by now—how much pressure, what rhythm—but he surprises me when he varies his approach as he focuses on pumping in and out of me, both with his tongue and fingers.

It’s killing me in the best of ways, suspending me in pleasure without letting me climb too quickly toward release. His hand grips my thigh, holding me open, holding me still when I try to move against his mouth.

“Loomis, please.” I gasp, my good hand in his hair, tugging lightly.

He looks up at me, his mouth glistening. “Please what, love?”

“Don’t tease me.”

He blows cool air on my pussy. “But I’ll make it feel so good.”

His tongue circles my clit, slow and deliberate, with his eyes holding mine. It’s carnal, a possessive move that saysthis is mine, and I say how this goes.

“It drives me crazy when you lick me like that.”

“I can’t get enough,” he rasps. “I want to make your pussy drip. I want it all over my face. The thought makes my cock throb.”

He licks from my opening back up to my clit, burying his face in me as if to prove his point, and I gasp, leaning back and angling my hips up, desperate for more.

“Oh god. Keep doing that.”

He chuckles, the sound vibrating straight into my clit.

“You’re adorable when you think you’re in charge of how I fuck you.” He taps my clit with the tip of his finger. “This is mine.” He drags his finger lower and slides it inside me, using it to fuck me slowly. “And this is mine.” He pulls his finger out and slips it lower against the muscles of my asshole. “This too.” Helicks from my ass back up to my clit, and I rock and sway, unable to control the movement. “All of this is mine. Mine to eat and fuck and finger. Tonight, Keegan Fritz, I’m going to show you exactly what it means to be owned by me.”

I stare into his eyes, a vast stormy sea and a chasm of endless depth. He’s asking me to trust him. To show him how deep this goes for me in a way words never could. Words. What the fuck are those? I’ve heard them all and they’ve been meaningless. It’s actions that have spoken and led for both of us.

I take both of my feet and brazenly prop them up on the counter and lean my weight back on my elbows. This is me. All of me. Exposed to him. I’ve been naked in front of him in the light of day, but this is different. This is more. This is everything. And based on the look in his eyes, he wants whatever he can get. It’s such a goddamn high, I’m buzzing with it.

“Put your money where your mouth is and show me.”

He laughs. “My feisty little mermaid.” Still, all pretenses of slow are gone. He renews his efforts, adding another finger to the mix, curling them inside me while his tongue circles my clit with perfect, relentless precision. The pressure builds, heat and tension coiling tighter and tighter until I’mrightthere,rightat the edge?—

“Look at me,” he commands, and when I do, when our eyes lock, he sucks hard on my clit and I shatter, my orgasm pulsing through me in waves that make me cry out his name over and over. My pussy clenches and I thrash, nearly falling into the sink, but I don’t even care. Before I’ve fully recovered, he’s standing, pulling me off the counter and forcing me to turn around to face the mirror. His chest presses against my back, and I’m bent until my tits practically meet the cold stone. His erection is hard against my ass, and I remember how his finger felt there and moan.

“Does Victoria Nightshade write anal sex?”

Oh fuck. “Yes. Sometimes.”

“Yet you haven’t tried it?”

“Not yet.”

He groans and rings his tongue by my ear. “First your cunt. Then your ass. Can you handle that?”

In the mirror, I look debauched—cheeks flushed, lips swollen, hair a wild tangle of red. Behind me, Loomis looks focused, intent, his hands moving to my hips.

“Without a doubt,” I tell him, wanting to experience it. Wanting it with him. I said if I gave him that piece of myself it was going to be more, but now more is all I want with him.

“I want you to watch,” he says, his voice rough. “I want you to see what I see.”