“Stanton . . .” She groans in an impatient plea.

And then my mouth is on hers, taking her words, sucking those plump lips that I watch all fucking day. She tastes so sweet—grenadine with a tang of tequila, making my head swim. She gives me her tongue, moist and warm. I move my lips over hers, plundering firmly, barely allowing for breath, and capture her lower lip with my teeth.

Her arms push against my grip, wanting to grab, to pull me closer, but I hold her steady. I press the length of my body against hers, feeling every soft, full curve against my hard angles. She moans, grateful for the contact while I ravage that mouth. Then I slide my lips down her jaw, leaving a wet trail, to her neck, feasting on her sweet skin like a starving man. She gasps and lifts her chin higher, giving me better access as I slip lower, to the top buttons on her blouse.

One-night stands, sex without feelings, stranger screwing—I’ve done them plenty of times before. Sometimes it’s good, sometimes it’s just—mechanical—fulfilling a base physical need. But this, here with Sofia—there’s never been anything mechanical about it. It’s scorching flames, licking at our limbs, pulling us together from a space deep inside—making us clash like magnets separated too far for too long.

My mouth sucks at her tits, over her blouse, leaving a dark, wet mark on the silk. There aren’t any thoughts—just feelings and sensations. I release her wrists, grip the delicate fabric with two hands and yank, ripping it open, baring the gorgeous flesh that fascinates me.

I’ll replace the blouse—I don’t have time for fucking buttons.

I pull the cup of her black lace bra down and her hands sink into my hair, massaging my skull as I devour her breast. So warm, so soft. I place long, open-mouth kisses along the mound, suctioning the skin until Sofia cries out—leaving my mark—punishing it for distracting me. Then I run my tongue around the dusky circle of her nipple—flicking and laving. When I engulf it with my mouth, she bucks, then sighs with relief as I suckle.

Her head rolls on her neck. “Oh yes . . . oh God yes . . .”

As I move to the other stunning tit and ply it with equal attention, I slip my fingers back into her panties, wanting to make her come, make her scream just like this. Her thighs spread, making room for my hand, as my fingers circle her opening. Her hips rotate in opposite circles to mine, her nails scour my back over my shirt. With my teeth trapping one peaked, sensitive nipple, I plunge two fingers into her tight wetness.

“Fuck . . .” she whimpers.

Sliding my fingers in and out, pumping, I wiggle my thumb down to her waiting clit and rub. Her voice rises, becoming desperate, because release is so fucking close. Then I lift my head and take in the sight of her face. Eyes closed, dark lashes fanned out against bronze skin, parted, panting lips calling my name. If I had any talent for painting, this would be the masterpiece I’d capture. This pure, unguarded moment, when she’s completely bare before me—trusting me to give her hard, pounding pleasure, but leave her unbroken.

I have to kiss her.

Gently now, I coax her lips to mine, while my fingers pump faster, thumb rubbing harder.

And then she explodes. I taste her beautiful moan, as her arms clasp and her thighs squeeze, and her pussy traps my fingers in fantastic pulsating contractions.

When her limbs loosen and her hands are cupping my jaw and she’s kissing me slow and sweet and grateful, I slip my fingers out of her. I rear back, and she watches with burning eyes as I taste the wetness that coats them. Better than grenadine or tequila or fucking bourbon—Sofia’s juice is the elixir of the gods, and I’ll be sucking on that delicious pussy before the night is over.

But first it’s time for her to have her fun.

With a sharp grin and an almost evil spark in her eye, she grips my tie and pulls me back in for a kiss. I let her spin us around, so my back is against the door. As our mouths dance, I push my hands into her hair—gripping—pulling the way I know she craves. Then I’m pushing her down.

Down on her knees.

She looks up at me, those fucking eyes alight and hungry, as her open palms slide over my pants, up my thighs, unbuckling my belt with a clang. I watch, my hand running across her head, through her hair, as she tugs them and the boxers underneath down to my ankles. I step out of them and lose eye contact as she rubs up my legs, toned and solid with muscle.

“These legs,” she admires aloud. “They were made to be kneeled at.”

I chuckle darkly. “Thanks for the compliment, darlin’. But no more talkin’ now—I have much more interesting uses for that mouth of yours.”

She smiles and runs her tongue across her lips. My thick cock jumps, ’cause it knows what’s coming next. I grip my dick firmly, pumping slow, then trace the tip over Sofia’s lips, spreading the moisture already there across them.

I look into those eyes, eyes a man could drown in if he’s not careful—and I tell her, “Open.”

I don’t mind a woman who’s eager, and I’ve been more than happy to lay back and let a girl have her wicked way with me. But here—now—with Sofia, there’s a rush from her submission. A thrill at being above her, in charge of her. And I want to take my time, let her feel every inch of what I’m giving—instead of just allowing her to take.

Like the saying goes, giving really is better.

Her lips are swollen, rosy from my rough kisses. They spread as she opens wide, and I guide my dick into that wet, hot heaven. I push in slow, breathing hard, until I hit the back of her throat with a moan. And I sink into the fucking sensation of her snug, warm mouth wrapped around me. So goddamn good.