He laughed but complied. He’d been torturing himself as much as her, and the truth was he wanted her. Wanted to watch as she melted under his touch. Wanted to look into her eyes as he made her come.

Roughly, he pushed the crotch of her panties aside, and then slid his fingers through her slick, wet curls until he found her centre. Her breathing was uneven, punctuated by low murmurs of “yes” and “please.”

He didn’t disappoint. He slipped his forefinger and index finger inside her, cupping her sex with his palm as he stroked her. He felt himself harden as he continued the erotic rhythm, sliding in and out in slow, deep movements designed to take her right to the edge.

“Do you like that?”

“Oh, God, yes” A pause, and then “But what part of ‘more’ don’t you understand?”

Her words worked magic on him, and he couldn’t stand it anymore. Enough with the slow teases and the slow builds. He wanted her, and he wanted her now.

He shifted them, taking her in a deep, passionate kiss. At the same time, he urged them, moving as one, across the room until she was pressed up against the pillar that marked the end of the living area.

Her breath came fast, her eyes widening in both question and excitement.

“”More,” he said simply.

A smile touched her lips. “About damn time.”

Her fingers reached for the waistband of his sweats, nimbly untying the knot that held up the pants. She released the drawstring and the garment slid down over his hips. He hadn’t worn underwear and now the cool air acted as an enticing counterpoint to the heat generated between the two of them.

She reached down to cup his balls, and then stroked him. His body rocked, and it was everything he could do not to come right then, as her touch sent about a million volts of pure electricity racing through him.

Gently, he tugged her hand away. “Not yet,” he said. “Not unless you want a different ending to this show than the one I had planned.”