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“What’s more fun than fucking?”

He began unbuttoning his cuffs, but instead of taking his shirt off, he just rolled up his sleeves. “Turn around. And I’ll show you.”

Hesitantly, I turned around, facing the wall and the mirror that hung in front of me. Yves pushed me onto my hands and knees, then ran his hands up my thighs. The next thing I knew, there was a tearing sound, and my night shift fell to the bed.

“That’s better,” he said, coming behind me on the bed and feathering my back with delicate cold kisses. His hands circled my waist. My breasts. They toyed with my hard nipples. Then he ran his fingers up my spine. “Arch your back.”

I did as he asked, allowing my hips to shift up.

Then he kissed his way down to a place I’d never had a man’s lips before. He spread me wide, and his tongue followed. Circling that place while his fingers played with my aching, tight clit.

My head fell forward, and I moaned like I’d never moaned before. Guttural sounds. He gripped my hips and encouraged me to fuck his tongue. My backside hitting his face. It took no time at all to come once again.

His fingers worked, prolonging my pleasure, and once I was done, he rubbed his cock along the wet seam of my ass, tapping it. I watched him from the mirror. And when our eyes connected in the glass, he asked, “Do you still want to be fucked?”

I nodded.

Yves grinned, fell forward, and slipped his cock inside me. Everything inside me clenched down around him. His hand around my throat.

For a second, he just held himself inside there. Kissed my back. My neck. His lips buried in my hair. Whispered little things to me that my heart wanted to hear.

“At last.”

“Beautiful.”

“Perfect.”

“Dream come true.”

He was so deep, so thick, it was like my very first time. The way I stretched around him, feeling things I’d never felt before. My heart fluttered from more than just anticipation for some grand finale.

Slowly, he pulled halfway out, then eased himself back in, as far as I could take him. It was the most delicious ache I’d ever felt.

“I’ve been waiting for this. For you,” he whispered.

The ache turned painful, and I realized for a dangerous moment, we had forgotten this was supposed to mean nothing. That it was nothing. Sex was sex. It was fun. And then it was over. And now it was time to finish this.

“And I’m still waiting for you to fuck me,” I gritted out.

His teeth grazed my neck. The sharp points of his incisors cut into my skin. There was a prick of pain, but when his cold tongue lapped at the wound, it went away, replaced by a rush of ecstasy so strong that my fingers curled into the bedsheets.

On my next breath, he pulled out and slammed back in. My shoulders shook. I ground my teeth together.

“Is that what you wanted?” he asked.

I nodded. “Harder.”

I couldn’t survive the tenderness. The kindness. The pretty words. I needed headboard-rattling sex. Bedpost cracking. Window shattering. Fuck-me-until-I-can’t walk sex.

Until-I-couldn’t-remember-who-the-fuck-I-was-or-what-had-happened-to-me sex.

And Yves… he seemed to understand that. Maybe he could see it in my eyes. Maybe the mirror let him see my desperation. Just like I could see that he wanted to become the kind of duke who took charge of his life and stopped living in the past.

He gave my ass a playful smack that made me tense around him.

“That’s good,” he bit out. “Too good.”

“More,” I demanded.