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“I want . . .” Soft sighs and puckered skin. Her breath hitting the air in static bursts. “I want you inside me.”

“You’re so fucking lovely.” I feather a knuckle to the front of her panties. “This is just the beginning.”

My name sounds like a blessing as her breasts rise and fall just below my attention but I can’t tear my eyes from her face. I swear I could drown in them and be satisfied with the trade.

Her thighs loosen as I stroke again. “That’s it, sweetness.”

Firmer now, between her folds, her panties growing wet as her body begins to move with me. Subtly at first. Then faster as I increase the pressure. The pace.

“I . . . I can’t. Not like this.”

“Yeah, you can. For me.”

“Troy, I—”

“You’re a feast for the eyes. A fucking banquet. And you know what that means.” Her hair makes a dark halo as she shakes her head. “I’m gonna eat you all up. Lick you clean.”

I turn her before she realizes what I’m doing. My hands at her hips, one smooth movement until she’s facing the mirror. Facing us. She sucks in a breath that echoes in my balls. The sight of her hits hard—harder than I expect, for sure. Cheeks flushed, eyes dark, and lips parted like an invitation. My arms come around her, one hand holding her breast, the other slipping under the elastic of her panties, cradling between her legs.

The sight, fuck. It’s everything. She’s tiny, and I look like the devil curled around her. Tan skin against pale. Ownership, need, mine, all mine echoing in my head.

“God, you make me want you.” In my life and in my fucking head because, my hands look like they belong. Like years haven’t passed since I last touched her like this.

I roll her nipple between my fingertips, my lips laying claim to the soft skin of her neck. Fingers dipping lower, I begin to gather her arousal, and we both watch as I paint it to the bud of her clit.

“Oh!” She convulses against my slippery pinch.

I circle. I pet. Revel in the stuttering ache of her breath. Shape soft words against the skin of her neck. “Fuck, Clara, you’re so warm, Clara. And so, so wet for me.”

A soft, teasing circle, and her eyes flutter closed.

“Don’t you look away.” Because the mirror shows all. The tension in my jaw and the control it takes not to press her down. To take. To fuck her so hard, her cries bounce off the walls.

“I can’t—it’s too much.”

“It’s perfect. You’re perfect.” The moment seems thick with longing, all wet slide and hot breath fogging the mirror as I twist the moment for her. For me. Make it levitate. Watch her hover there on that delicious knife edge. In this moment, she’s mine. Mine for as long as I make this last.

“Troy . . .” The ache in her tone is like music. The way her body bucks, chasing my touch, heavenly.

“I know, it hurts. But in the best way. Just a little longer. Get a little wetter for me, baby.”

“Please . . .”

“I’ll make it so good. You remember how good, don’t you?” Because I do.

“You’re torturing me.”

“Nine years, Clara. When I fuck you, I won’t be holding back.”

“Oh, God.”

My fingers slip from her pussy. I relish the anticipatory hitch of her breath as I bring them to her lips, painting a wet stripe there. “I could eat you whole.” I turn her face to mine and give a groan at the earthy flavor as I lick her lips clean.

“Your mouth,” she whispers, all dark-eyed want. “I forgot how good you were with it.”

I give a dark chuckle as I hook my thumbs into the sides of her panties. “That’s an idea.”

“That’s not what—”