Lena

At this point, my courage is fading fast. I haven't had a man in my apartment in ages. Especially not one like Jase, who could buy and sell it without even blinking, while I barely manage to make rent some weeks. I never brought Karson here. He always insisted on me visiting his place because it's literally a mansion—his favorite things are living in luxury, and showing off. But Jase doesn't seem to mind. His lips touch my forehead, and the gesture is so damn sweet I almost tear up.

"My bedroom is through here." Taking his hand, I tug him toward the door beside the sofa before I have time for second thoughts. The walls are painted cream, the bedspread is pale blue—the same color as my eyes—and I only have one set of drawers and a closet, which is packed full of the outfits and the jewelry I took when I left home.

A connecting door leads to the attached bathroom, where I store my makeup and cosmetics, but Jase doesn't need to see that, so I close it before he has time to peek. A pair of large, strong hands land on my shoulders, and his thumbs knead the tension from between my shoulder blades.

I moan. "Oh, my God. That's so good." I lean into his ministrations. "Don't stop."

"Wouldn't dream of it." His voice is husky and low, and reminds me of exactly why I invited him back here. I want this man to break my dry spell. I want the impressive erection I felt earlier sliding inside me. The sooner, the better. Before I start questioning my choices.

His clever thumbs continue working the tension from my back and shoulders, relaxing me bit by bit. He digs into a particularly tight knot and I whimper. He stiffens against me, his hands slipping, then recovers and dips his mouth near my ear.

"You make the hottest sounds."

If I didn't love the way he's touching me, I'd be mortified. Instead I push closer and brush my ass into the front of his shorts, feeling once again how much he wants me.

"If you take off your shirt, I can make you feel even better," he murmurs, his voice silky and so tempting it should be illegal.

Grabbing the hem of my blouse, I yank it over my head, then with a flick of my fingers, I dispose of my bra and present my bare back to him. Somehow, the fact I can't see him only makes it more erotic when I hear his quick intake of breath and feel the quiver of his fingers before he resumes the massage. His scent wafts over me. Deep heat and earthiness that's so masculine I can't stand it. Turning, I burrow my face into his chest, inhaling the wonderful manliness of him.

Instantly, his hands go to my tits, curving around them. Shivering, I rock into his lower body, and at the same time, whip his shirt up so I can taste the skin of his chest. He releases me and wrestles the shirt off, then gathers my breasts in his palms and drops his head to lick them. The tip of his tongue flicks my nipple, then the flat of it glides over, soothing.

"Oh. God." My knees quake. Clutching his head, I keep him there, forgetting my mission to explore his own naked chest, but that doesn't stop me from appreciating as much as I can see of it. Dark hair dusts him, enough to be noticeable, but not enough to be considered a pelt. The tattoos I've previously admired extend from his arms across his pecs, leaving a narrow strip of virgin skin down the center. In the future, I fully intend to trace the edge of his ink with my mouth. I'll never get enough of him. He's addictive as a double-whip mocha with hazelnut syrup.

His rough hands smooth down my stomach and into the waistband of my skirt, pushing it down. I slip it off, and then I'm standing in front of him in heels, the lacy scrap of my panties, and nothing else. He eyes me greedily, exactly like a virile alpha male who's denied himself pleasure for far too long. Which, you know, he is.

"Holy fuck," he mutters, his attention snagged on my underwear. "I can't wait to tear that off and make you scream." He shakes his head. "You call those panties? That's a fucking wet dream right there."

"It's wet all right," I reply, without thinking the words through.

His slate eyes shoot to mine, and darken impossibly further. "You want me, baby?"

I nod, biting my lip to keep from sharing the details of yesterday's vibrator session with him. "Are you hard for me?"

It's a rhetorical question. The evidence is irrefutable, his shorts tented dramatically, but if I have to acknowledge my state, I want him to, too.

"So goddamned hard," he admits, stroking himself through the fabric of his shorts.

I swallow, my mouth dry. "Get naked. Now."

He strips off, and I drool a little. His thighs are bulky and strong, and his cock—wow. It's thick, really freaking long, and surprisingly well-groomed.

He takes that cock in his hand and strokes it lazily, watching me watch him. "Like what you see?"

"I'd like it more if I was touching it." Grabbing his forearm, I ease him away and smooth my fingers over the head, smearing precum down his length. He's as turned on as I am, and more than anything, I want to hear him gasp and groan and lose all of his iron willpower. As I wrap my hand around him, his entire body goes rigid, and beads of sweat roll over the ridges of his abdomen. He thrusts forward, demanding more, and I squat and lick him.

"Fuck, baby." He grabs fistfuls of my hair and jerks me forward so I take him fully into my mouth. "More."

I go to town on him, playing out many of the fantasies I've had since our first kiss, loving the way he strains and sighs and talks dirty to me. His fingers plunge into my hair, and then he's guiding me up and down the way he likes. But you know what? I want to be in control. I pull myself off him with a pop, and his hips jerk closer, seeking me out again.

I turn my face away. "Behave yourself. This is my game."

Not willing to play by my rules, he releases his grip on my hair and jerks himself, muttering something under his breath about cock teases. I have to say, watching him pleasure himself is really working for me. I reach for him, but he draws back.

"You wanted to play silly games," he growls. "Now I'm playing. Sit on the bed and show me your pretty pussy."

My vagina purrs, pleased to have his attention. I'm eager to see where this is going, so I do as he orders, lying back and resting on my elbows, wriggling my panties off and spreading my thighs so he can see me, glistening pink and waiting for him. I dip a finger into myself and slide it through my folds, keeping my eyes on him, seeing his pupils dilate and his nostrils flare.

He takes an involuntary step forward, then seems to catch himself, and barks, "Don't touch yourself. I'm the only one allowed to touch that pussy."

I arch a brow. "Oh, really?" I don't stop, but instead slide a second finger in to join the party. "What're you going to do about it?" I don't see him move, but next thing I know he's pinned me to the bed and has my wrists above my head. A laugh escapes me. "Huh. You really are that good."

He lowers his mouth to my ear, not releasing my hands. "However good you think I am, double it. I'm the best you'll ever have, cutie pie."

I nuzzle him. "Prove it."

I expect him to thrust into me, going straight for the prize, but instead he orders me to keep my hands where they are while he slides down my body. The moment his mouth latches onto my throbbing center, my hands are in his hair. Stopping, he removes his face from between my thighs and looks at me, waiting until I return my hands above my head before continuing.

A whimper tears through me. I struggle to lie still beneath his sensual onslaught without grabbing onto something—anything—to anchor myself in the present. I can hardly believe this is actually happening. I've known this man for less than a week, and while I've had the occasional one-night stand, casual affairs aren't something I make a habit of. Especially not ones with guys like this. Men who could use me and toss me aside with a broken heart, or worse. And on top of that, ones who could jeopardize my entire career.

"Please," I gasp, needing to be on a level footing with him, needing not to come until he does, too. I can't be the weak one in this crazy whirlwind of passion. "I want you to fuck me. Right. Now."

He rises up on his elbows, and his gaze is ferocious in its intensity. "How do you like it?"

He's actually asking? It's sweet I suppose, but can't the asshole just get down to screwing me?

"Me on top." That way I retain some of the power. Based on the way he grins and buries his face in me again, he likes my answer. My head drops, my back arches up, and I'm so close—so close—but then he's gone.

I scream in frustration. But then, once I've recovered, I clamber to my knees and point a finger at him. "Bring your glorious cock back here and shove it in me, you asshole."

Giving me a wink, he holds up a condom. "Thought you might want this."

I pout. "I also wanted to come."

His cock bobs, as if it likes that answer. He sheaths himself and sits on the mattress, his back against the bed head, legs sprawled before him. "I'm at your mercy. Ride me like you want to."

And then he interlocks his fingers behind his head and leans back as though he doesn't have a care in the world. Well, I'm about to change that. Jase Rawlins will beg me for more by the time I'm done with him. While I'm not always sexually adventurous, I'm confident in myself, and in the chemistry that's been sizzling between us since day one.

Crawling up his body, I circle his dick with my fingers and lower myself onto it, just the tiniest bit. He watches, and the only thing that shows he isn't as relaxed as he'd like to appear is the way his eyes track my every movement, and his jaw tightens. When I slide him inside me another inch, his hips reflexively tilt up, and I lift off him.

Yeah, I'm as good at playing games as you.

I ease myself onto him again, until his thick head is inside me, and circle my hips. Then, before he can do anything about it, I pull away. I continue the torture, taking a little more of him each time until his abs are quivering with restraint and, finally, I'm fully seated on him. I begin to move and he snaps, losing all hint of the laid-back role he's been playing. He grips my hips and slams me down onto him. I love the slapping sound of our skin.

"Was that fun for you?" he asks. "You like driving me out of my fucking mind?"

Before I can answer, one of his arms curves around my lower back and he tugs me even closer, claiming my mouth in a kiss that's hot and carnal and wild. I'm amazed at how in sync our bodies are. When I press down, he thrusts up, and we keep pace with each other, him muttering filthy encouragements under his breath, then groaning when I mix it up and corkscrew onto him. I moan as he touches a place deep within me that I never knew existed.

"Oh, God," I cry, and he kisses my neck, licks the bottom of my earlobe, then takes it between his teeth.

"You're so beautiful," he tells me. "So amazing and fiery and goddamn perfect."

Something inside me thaws. Something I'd never planned on giving Jase Rawlins access to, and I realize, as the most wonderful sense of rightness sings in my veins, that if I'm not careful, he could steal my heart.

Then his tongue is in my mouth, and we're breathing as one, moving as one. Up and up, carrying each other higher, until blackness flickers behind my eyelids and we crash over the pinnacle of pleasure together. I hear a voice, and realize I'm chanting his name. He thrusts once more, curses, and goes limp beneath me, his arms holding me so tight I can hardly breathe.

Wow.

Now that's what it's all about. That's what it's like to be with a man who cares about mutual satisfaction. Completely spectacular.

The sweat cools on my skin, and I wonder if I should get off him. What's the etiquette after you've finished having your way with a guy like Jase? He probably doesn't want me flopping on top of him like so much dead weight. Shifting position, I try to move, but he won't let me go.

"Just another minute," he murmurs, and I submit, resting my chin awkwardly on his shoulder. A smile steals over my face. Is he catching his breath, or is the big bad MMA fighter actually snuggling me? After his allotted minute, he lets me go, and I hop off, grab my blouse and yank it over my head.

"Hold up," he says, as he disposes of the condom. "I was enjoying the view."

So. Am. I.

Although his cock is droopy, it shows signs of recovering, and he's just standing in my doorway looking like an advertisement for invisible Calvin Kleins.

"Shirt off, and back on the bed," he orders.

I consider arguing, but I'm not the type to bite off my nose to spite my face, so I whip the blouse off and lie on the bed. Jase whistles and eyes me appreciatively, then stretches alongside me. Slipping an arm beneath my waist, he draws me to his side. I rest my cheek on his chest, and it's official. We're cuddling. He threads the fingers of his free hand through mine, and turns to nuzzle the crook of my shoulder. It frightens me how much I like it. Being held by him is second only to feeling his stiff length inside me. He's such a warm person, more so than I'd ever imagined, and I'm shocked how protective I feel over him. It's laughable, considering he's physically far more capable of defending himself than I am, but who protects him from emotional harm?

Me. That's who. From now on, it's my job to keep the generous man hiding inside this tattooed, muscular exterior safe from anyone who might threaten him. But before I go announcing that to the world, I need to know I'm safe with him.

"Hey, Jase," I say tentatively. "We can just keep this between ourselves, right? It's kind of frowned upon at work to bang the clients."

He drops a tender kiss on the side of my neck."Sure thing, baby. It's our secret."