“You’re fucking gorgeous with my cock in your mouth, you know that?”

His praise makes me want to see exactly how deep I can take him. I open wider, take more until his thumb touches my lip and the head hits the back of my throat. I hold on to his hips and ease him back, then do it again, taking him deeper on the next wet, suctioned stroke. I do it maybe two or three more times before he let’s go of my hair.

“That’s enough.” He wraps his hand around his cock and pulls out of my mouth, covering the head.

For the first time ever, I actually want to keep going. “I was just getting started.” I might even be whining.

He brushes my bottom lip with his thumb. “Another time I’d love to finish in that incredible mouth of yours.”

He releases his cock and reaches down. Hooking his hands under my arms, he pulls me up so I’m not face-to-cock with him anymore. He’s still straddling my hips as he leans down and kisses me, tongue sweeping my mouth. I wiggle around, trying to get my legs out from between his without causing any potential damage to his delicious dick.

Breaking the kiss, he sits back, running his fingertips over my breasts, circling my nipples before he drags them down my sides. We’re getting to the good part, not that all the other parts haven’t been good, but this is what I’ve been waiting for, fantasizing about even, since the first night he accidentally kissed me.

He draws a circle around my navel, then travels a straight path down to the crest of my pelvis. If he would just get in between my legs it would make this a hell of a lot easier. Easing farther back on the bed, he smooths his hands along the outside of my thighs, until he reaches my knees. Hooking his fingers underneath them, he encourages me to bend them, then follows the contour of my calves until he reaches my ankles. “How flexible are you?”

“Um, pretty flexible, why?”

He raises my legs, keeping them pressed together as he rests the soles of my feet against his chest. “I’m just trying to decide what position I want to fuck you in.”

Oh good Lord. This man and his mouth. These weeks of flirty banter and mostly civilized behavior seem to be evaporating in the face of orgasms and naked promise.

“Do I have a say in how I’m positioned?” I mean for it to be all snark, but I fail, because it comes out all soft and breathy instead.

“If you want one, sure.” Bancroft runs his hands over my shins. When he reaches my knees he reverses the movement, his wide palms wrapping around my ankles again. His gaze lifts to meet mine. “Open for me.”

Despite it being an order and not a request, I’m still inclined to oblige him. I mean, he tongue fucked me across the floor. I’ve already come like my clit is the central location for fireworks on the Fourth of July. If he would like to put that magnificent cock of his to good use by pounding another orgasm out of my pretty little pussy I am all for it.

Sometimes it’s good to play it coy. Show a little hesitation and uncertainty. I do neither of those things.

I can literally hear Bancroft’s teeth grinding together as his gaze drops. I don’t know exactly what it is about my grooming habits or the composition of my particular vagina that makes the deep, thick groan come out of him, but whatever it is I’m so, so happy about it right now.

I’m completely on display for him. Bare for him. Vulnerable. But it doesn’t create any of the self-consciousness I expect, because the expression on his face is pure, unfiltered desire.

He curves forward, spreading my legs farther apart, hands still wrapped around my ankles. I’m not sure what his plan is until he licks me again, one long slow stroke of his tongue, a fast swirl and a long, hard suck on my clit.

I cry out and arch, but he’s still holding my damn ankles, so I can’t get away from the intensity of his mouth. He keeps me spread, his mouth on me, getting me close again.

Before I fall over the edge and into the blissful abyss he releases one of my ankles, but only one, and looks up from between my legs. Then he fists his cock. “I’m going to fuck you now, Ruby. Are you ready for that?”

“Oh God. Yes. Please. That would be so amazing.” I would love it if I could be a little less eager about the whole thing, but he’s left me hanging, and all I can think about is how fantastic it’s going to feel when he’s filling me.

His smirk tells me he knows exactly what’s going on in my head. Or maybe it’s my breathy tone and the way I’m attempting to lift my hips off the bed, even though he’s still holding my damn ankle.

When he rubs the head of his cock over my clit I jerk and moan. Finally letting go of my ankle, he slips his arm under my knee, pulling it up as he stretches out on top of me.

I can feel him, thick and hard against my pelvis. I try to readjust our position, but I’m not having much luck. “I thought you said you were going to fuck me now.” I’m a little snappy.

He might be more smug than necessary. “I’m getting to that. This is an exercise in patience, Ruby.”

“I’ve waited a lot of weeks for this.”

“So you can wait a little longer.” He eases his hips back and the thick shaft slides over my clit, the head following. He reaches across to the nightstand, fumbling around for a second before he finds the condoms. He’s quick about tearing one free and rolling it on. And then he’s pushing inside and I’m moaning and he’s groaning.

The first few strokes are slow as I adjust. But those are the only ones that fall into the slow and gentle category, because after that, Bancroft’s civility ceases to exist. He drills into me, hips slapping against mine, fast and hard. I come. And then come again as he growls dirty things in my ear. Telling me how amazing my pussy is. How it’s his now, and no one else can have it but him.

I like it a lot.

After he comes he collapses on top of me—not completely, he braces his weight on his straining, twitching forearms. I don’t think I’ve ever been so sated in my life.

I’m so sweaty. I’m pretty sure there’s glitter all over Bancroft’s sheets. And Bancroft. I can’t actually find it in me to care or do anything about it. Not that there’s anything I can reasonably do anyway.

One thing I’ve noticed with the glitter is that no matter how many times I wash things, it’s still hangs around after the fact, shiny reminders of my temporary job.

“Does this mean you’re not angry anymore?” I ask when he tucks me into his side.