Page 31 of Honeyfires

"Vera."

She looked up. Eyes dark. Lips swollen. Chin tilted up. "Mm?"

"Faster."

Her face lit up, delicate features transforming.

"Say please," she said.

I stared at her.

She waited, the picture of composure, her fingers slowing.

This woman. This absolute— "Please."

The smile that curved her mouth was the most infuriatingly sexy thing I had ever seen in my life.

She gave me what I asked for.

"Let go," she said softly, eyes on mine. "I've got you."

The orgasm hit like a flashover—total, all-consuming, zero warning—and I heard myself groan her name with absolutely no restraint whatsoever, and the world went white at the edges, and she worked me through every last second of it until I was wrung out and trembling and had temporarily lost track of the year and possibly my own name.

When I opened my eyes, she was looking down at me with an expression of pure, unashamed triumph.

"You look incredibly smug," I observed.

"I feel incredibly smug." She curled against my side. "Earned?"

"Earned." I pulled her in. My whole body was still humming. "Vera."

"Mm."

"Where did you even—"

"Fast learner. Independent research." She pressed her mouth to my shoulder. "I had a very specific research question."

"What was it?"

A pause. "How to completely take apart a helitack forewoman in under twenty minutes."

I laughed—really laughed, open and undefended—and she lifted her head to look at me, smiling at the sound of it the way she'd smiled at it in the diner. Like it was something she wanted to keep.

Her fingers found the phoenix on my ribs, following the wings. "Tell me about this one."

"Later."

"You'll always say later."

"Later always comes. I promise, I'll tell you another time."

"Fine." She tucked back against me. The room was going silver-blue with the last of the evening. "Petra?"

"Mm."

"This was my first time," she said, quietly. "Having sex like this. The power play stuff."

I went still.