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“You. Now,” she pleads, tugging at the ribbon. “I want you inside me now. Not just your hand. Please.”

“You’ll have me,” I promise, kissing her temple. “But you’re going to come for me first.”

“Then make me come, Pascal.”

Now it’s a challenge.

I slide two fingers inside her. She’s hot and wet, and her pussy tightens around me instantly. I press up slowly, feeling for what she likes, while my thumb takes over her clit. When her breath catches, and her hips lift to meet my hand, I know I’ve found it, and I don’t move from there.

I don’t speed up. I keep the same slow, steady pressure, over and over, my mouth against her ear.

“You’re beautiful like this,” I tell her. “Do you know that? Tied to my bed, taking my fingers. You’ve been driving me out of my mind since the day you walked in the door, and now you’re here. And it’s even better than I imagined.”

Her thighs start to shake. The ribbon pulls taut against the bedpost.

Her whole body tightens and then breaks, her hips jerking against my hand. She cries out loud enough that Zander and Jarek definitely heard it downstairs. I feel every pulse of it around my fingers. I don’t pull away. I just hold still inside her, my thumb resting on her clit, and let her ride out every last wave on her own terms until she goes limp against the sheets.

I slide my fingers out and kiss her while she catches her breath. Her mouth is soft and slack under mine. She pulls against the ribbon, trying to wrap her arms around me, and when she can’t, I reach up and cover her bound hands with mine so she doesn’t hurt herself.

“Tell me you’re okay,” I say.

“More than okay.”

“Good.”

I reach into the drawer for a condom and roll it on while she watches through heavy-lidded eyes. Then I take a pillow and slide it under her hips, lifting her toward me.

I settle between her thighs and let the head of my cock rest against her opening, not pushing in. Just letting her feel it. She’s still trembling.

“You’re going to come again,” I tell her. “Harder, this time.”

Then I push inside her.

She’s so wet from the first orgasm that her body lets me in, but I’m still a lot to take. She sucks in a breath. Her fingers curl around the ribbon.

“You can take all of me, Nina,” I say, kissing her cheek, her jaw, her lips. “You’re incredible. Breathe for me.”

She breathes. Her body opens a little more. I reach between us and circle her clit with my thumb as I sink the rest of the way in, and she moans long and low.

I don’t pull back out right away. I stay buried as deep as I can go, my forearms braced on either side of her head, and look at her. Her hair is spread across my pillow. Her eyes are locked on mine.

I’ve never felt anything like this. Not once.

Then I start to move.

Slow, deep strokes. I pull almost all the way out and sink back in, grinding against her at the bottom of every thrust so my body presses her clit. Her legs wrap around my waist, and this time, I let them.

“You feel so good, Nina.”

She arches beneath me like she wants me deeper, and I give her what she wants. I slide a hand under her back and hold her against me.

The pressure builds slowly, and I don’t rush it. Every stroke drags a sound out of her. Every sound she makes tightens something low in my stomach. I can feel her getting wetter, tighter, her body gripping me harder each time I pull back, like it doesn’t want to let me go.

“You’re taking me so well,” I tell her, my voice rough now. “Never be embarrassed about wanting more of me, Nina. I’ll give you everything you want.”

“Faster,” she begs. “Please.”

I give in.