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And her.

Belinda.

Her hands clutch me tighter, urging me closer, and our panting breaths match as we find a rhythm together.

Harder.

Closer.

More.

Every sound she makes feeds the fire inside me, but instead of pushing my Devil toward the edge, she pulls me back from it.

Centers me.

Anchors me.

Her.

Only her.

The realization hits with almost as much force as the pleasure.

Because this isn't simply lust.

It isn't the result of turning forty or my Devil growing desperate.

Something big is happening between us.

Something I should probably stop long enough to understand.

But then Belinda whispers my name again, and coherent thought becomes impossible.

For tonight, I surrender to the one thing I haven't allowed myself to want in years.

Her.

Her mouth lifts to mine, and I claim hers in a kiss that steals both our breaths and ignites all of my erotic senses.

Passion between us is positively explosive.

But it’s the way she holds me that nearly undoes me.

Like she isn’t afraid of what I am.

Like she wants all of me.

Her fingers dig into my back as I thrust into her, and she urges me deeper.

Harder.

Our panting breaths match as our rhythm finds us rocking together, racing for climax.

“Damian.”

My name breaks from her lips, and something inside me answers.

Not just my Devil.