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“Just like that, honey,” I managed. “Slower. Yes. Your mouth feels incredible, and I’m going to be thinking about it in the middle of safety briefings for a month.”

She hummed against me, and I swore.

The pressure low in my belly was climbing faster than I wanted, so I slid my hand under her chin and eased her up. “Come here. I want to be inside you more than I want to finish like this, and that’s where this was headed.”

She sat back and wiped her lower lip with the back of her wrist, looking very pleased with herself. “For the record, I did that on the first attempt.”

“I’m prepared to write you a glowing recommendation.”

Peyton scooted back to the center of the bed and stretched out against the pillows with one knee raised, holding out a hand to me. I followed her down and knelt between her knees.

“Tell me how you want this,” I said.

“On my back, I think, for tonight. I’d like to see your face. And I want to be the one who decides how fast.” She said it evenly, like someone reading from a page she’d marked up in advance. “If I say stop, or wait, or slower, I’d like you to take it at face value.”

“Always. You say it, and I do it.”

She reached between us, wrapped her fingers around me, and guided me to her. I’d braced my weight on my forearms on either side of her head so I wouldn’t crowd her, and I was glad of it, because she was slick and hot and the head of my cock had barely touched her before I had to lock my arms to stay still.

“Stay right there a moment,” she said as I started to ease in. I stopped. She let out a slow breath. “It isn’t pain. It’s a great deal of sensation, and I’d like to adjust to it before I go any farther.”

“Take as long as you want.”

I held still, which was the hardest thing I’d done all night, with her palm flat against my hip and her eyes on mine. After a while she nodded.

“A little more. Slowly.”

I moved an inch at a time, and Peyton told me when to wait and when to go on, until I was seated all the way inside her and neither of us was moving at all. Her fingers had tightened on my arm. Then her mouth curved.

“Well,” she said, a little breathless. “That settles a number of questions.”

“Want to put any of them in writing?”

“Later. Right now I’d like you to move.” She wrapped her legs around my hips. “Slowly. And keep talking.”

I started with long, easy strokes and spoke close to her ear. “You feel incredible. You’re so tight around me I can barely think, and I don’t even want to think. I can feel you holding on every time I pull back, and I want to stay right here and feel you do it.”

“A little deeper,” she said. “And higher. Like you did with your tongue.” She drew one knee up toward her chest, and the angle changed, and she gasped. “That. Yes. Keep exactly that.”

I kept it. She told me when to go faster and then, grinning up at me, when I’d gone too fast, and I found that being directed by Peyton Appleby, in full and precise sentences, with her heel pressed into the back of my thigh, was one of the hottest things that had ever happened to me.

Her eyes stayed on mine, dark and a little unfocused without her glasses, and each time I sank into her she made a low sound of approval that I felt all the way down my spine. I asked her to keep looking at me, and she did. I told her she was beautiful, and that I liked hearing her tell me exactly what felt good, and she smiled up at me, flushed and breathless, and asked me to say it again.

When I said it again, she slid her hands up my back and kissed me, and between kisses she said, “I want to try being on top. I have theories.”

“I’d like to hear them.”

“I’ll have to demonstrate.”

I rolled us over carefully, keeping us joined, and she settled over me with her palms flat on my chest. Lamplight caught the color across her chest and the damp at her temples, and the look on her face was the concentrated, delighted focus she wore when a difficult take finally came together. She rose and sank, testing angles and speeds, and when I put my hands at her waist, where they very nearly met around her, she covered them with hers.

“These can stay,” she said. “I want to see what works for both of us.”

“Good,” I told her. “And I like watching you figure it out.”

Peyton grinned down at me, and her voice dropped into the low, teasing register she used for Isadora’s challenges. “Then tell me what you want, Hudson. Use your words.”

I laughed, and then I stopped laughing, because she moved. “I want you to keep doing exactly that,” I said. “I want to watch you take what you need until you come on my cock, and then I want you to watch me come inside you. After that I want to hold you until neither of us can move.”