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She was so fucking wet, and it was like my touch was sending sparks along her body. She twitched and bowed. I half-expected her to purr with satisfaction. It was so hot, I began to sweat and reached for my drink.

The oaky bourbon slid down my throat, and I took a knee beside her hip. She was trembling, and worry stopped my heart. Oh, shit, had I been too harsh? Had I fucked this up? “You okay?”

Her head hung down until her chin was buried in her chest, and her long curtain of hair draped to the floor. “Yes. God, yes. I don’t know why I’m shaking.”

Relief poured through me, followed by a strange sensation. Not warmth, or strength, and it took a long moment to place. It was power.

And it felt really fucking good.

She was a vision like this. Sex on display. Waiting for me.

There was a flinch when I set my glass on the flat spot of her lower back, directly centered between her hips.

“Oh shit, that’s cold!”

“Quiet. That bottle of bourbon was expensive,” I said. “I’m trusting you to stay still as I do this, and not waste any of it.”

She seemed to solidify, eager to meet my challenge.

I anchored myself by putting my left hand on her hip. “Are you ready?”