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My head lifted and I met his gaze. He stepped closer, never breaking eye contact as he teased a finger over the damp spot of my panties. I sucked in a sharp breath as he grazed that sensitive ache that needed to be set free. He loved teasing that razor’s edge of pleasure and need, and I was more than willing to beg if that’s what he wanted to hear.

“Mission accomplished, Ms. Meyers.”

I bit my lip. “Well, there’s a really hot guy in my bedroom, Mr. Davenport. And he’s touching my panties.”

He slipped his hand into the silk, cupping me possessively and sinking a finger deep inside. “I’ve got you now.” Cocking my hips forward, his mouth found the sensitive spot on my neck, as his finger remained hooked inside of me. The scent of vodka mixed with his cologne as his breath teased my cheek. “Let’s try two.”

My breath hitched again as he stretched me, his fingers now pumping slowly.

My eyes closed as I leaned into the vanity, my thighs spreading wider. “I thought we had reservations.”

“They’ll wait.” He nudged my knees wider. “Sit.”

Boosting me onto the edge of the vanity, he pulled my panties aside and fed another finger into me. Knuckles slick with arousal, he gently worked deeper until he had complete possession of my body and I was deliriously begging for more.

“So fucking wet for me.” His filthy words and the quick clap of his penetrating touch, paired with my breathy moans and the jostling furniture, creating a sensual tempo that beat against the walls of the suite and only added to the eroticism. “You love it when I touch you like this, don’t you, baby?”

I was lost, completely under his spell. “Yes.” Cosmetics rolled and fell to the carpet with a soft thud.

“Did you touch yourself while I was away?”

“Hale.” My cheeks burned. I couldn’t do the sexy talk like him. I never knew what to say and I didn’t want to ruin the mood.

“Tell me, Rayne. Did you finger your tight pussy and pretend it was me? Did you rub your clit until your fingers were soaked and your body ached for mine?”

I lacked the technique to make myself come, but that didn’t mean I hadn’t tried on those nights I missed him most. Still, I had a hard time confessing such things. Even to Hale. “Maybe.”

He caught my hand and pressed it between my thighs. “Show me.”

Panicked and frozen, I looked at him. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. It’s us.” He sucked two of my fingers into his mouth, pressing the wet tips over my clit and holding them there with his palm as two of his fingers remained buried inside of me. “Show me.”

My body clenched and I rubbed, but I knew I wouldn’t give him the finish he was after so I quickly gave up. “I can’t make myself come, Hale.”

“Just touch.” There was no disappointment in his voice. He caught my chin and kissed me. “Slide your fingers along mine and feel how sexy you are.”

I shut my eyes, entwining my fingers with his, letting him lead. He made me feel my body, the arousal, the swollen bud of my clit. It was about sensation more than penetration, and my body responded to every caress.

He dragged the gilded chair closer and sat down, pushing my knees wide, a clear view of Broadway.

“Wh-what are you doing?”

“Taking care of you. Lean back.” His mouth closed over my clit and my spine arched.

“Hale!”

My useless fingers forked through his soft hair as I gasped and moaned. He was the true Lawrence of A Labia. Giving myself over to the pleasure, I surrendered to his touch as he edged me closer and closer to another release.

“Fuck, I could eat you for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.” He devoured me like a man starved. Feasting and licking over my most sensitive parts then greedily demanding things of my body I could not demand myself.

He finger-banged me to completion. Then he drank from me and demanded I give him more. It was lunacy, what this man could make me do. His understanding of my anatomy blew my mind, and when I wasn’t screaming out in pleasure I was staring in awe.

He owned me.

“You’re mine, aren’t you?”

“Yes…”

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