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Just dirtier.

“Ace,” she whispers, dropping her head forward, arching her spine, and knowing exactly what she needs, I slip my hand from her hip around.

In.

And I work her clit.

She really likes it when I work her clit.

“Oh, God,” she groans.

Yeah, she really likes it when I work her clit.

I press harder. Stroke deeper.

And then I get it.

Violet—soft and sweet and…dirty.

“Fuck me just like that,” she moans. “God, Ace. I’m there. Please, don’t stop fucking me.”

I don’t stop. Can’t stop. Not even if the world was collapsing around us.

Then she clamps down around me, convulsing in a way that means I’m there too.

And fuck, that’s good.

Fuck, that’s the best ever.

I stand by the side of the bed, still hard, still deep, my knees locked against an orgasm that threatens to take me to the floor.

But since that would bring Vi down with me—and I won’t ever do anything to drag her down alongside me—I keep my feet.

Hell, I even manage to do one better, rolling us into bed, and damned glad that it’s a full rather than the king I have at home.

Nowhere for her to escape.

Cue evil laughter.

Her chest is heaving, but her eyes are closed. “You really don’t like my bun, do you?” she murmurs.

I grin.

Mostly because this all started when she came back from using the bathroom and getting ready for our last day in Ambrose Land looking all prim and proper ice princess.

“I hate it,” I mutter, running my fingers through the strands that are now spread out on my pillow.

Her mouth twitches. “Noted.”

I kiss that smile then make a herculean effort to summon enough energy to push out of bed.

That accomplished, I yank on a pair of sweats, slip out of the room, and take care of the condom.

And also to grab the box I stashed in the hall closet the day before.

Did I pay an inordinate amount of money for the fastest possible shipping?

I sure did.