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“That was an accurate review.”

“It was blasphemy.”

“Your wine was pretentious.”

He reaches between my thighs. My argument disappears. “Oh.”

“There’s that word.”

“Shut up.”

His fingers move again. I grip the edge of the table.

“You’re already wet.”

“I was just on my knees with your dick in my mouth.”

“Nice.”

“Very observant.”

His mouth finds my neck. Two fingers slide inside me. My head drops back.

“Enzo.”

He curls them. I make a sound that should embarrass me. It doesn’t. He knows exactly what he’s doing now. That is both wonderful and deeply unfair.

“You like the table?”

“I haven’t decided.”

His thumb brushes my clit. My fingers clamp around his shoulders.

“I’m reconsidering.”

“Thought you might.”

He works me until my thighs begin shaking. Then stops. I open my eyes.

“You bastard.”

Enzo smiles. “What?”

“You stopped.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

He reaches toward the console behind him and opens a drawer. A condom appears. I stare.

“You have condoms in the dining room?”

“I have condoms in several rooms.”

I start laughing. “Jesus Christ.”

“What?”