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Not wasting another second, I climbed onto the bed and settled between her thighs, the fit of her body familiar and foreign at once. Her skin was fever-hot, and her hips rocked up, searching for contact. I dragged my engorged tip through her folds, the head of my cock catching on her entrance before sliding up to graze her clit.

She whimpered, one hand flying to my hip as if she could force me inside by sheer willpower. I loved that she was impatient, that she was just as desperate for this as I was.

Still, I teased her. I kissed her mouth—deep, hungry—then her neck, then her breasts, sucking one nipple into a stiff peak while my hips ground against her sex in a slow, grinding rhythm. Her slickness coated my shaft, the friction making my thighs tremble.

Her hands roamed my back, nails raking down my spine and over my shoulders. She clung to my arms, her hips rolling up to meet mine, chasing the pressure of my hard length against her clit. I nudged her pleasure button with my head, slow and deliberate, and she shivered, her thighs clamping around my hips.

“Please,” she begged, blunt and breathless.

I grinned, unable to help myself. “I could do this all night.”

She was shaking, a fine tremor running through her body. “You’re killing me,” she groaned and reached down, grabbing my ass and pulling me harder against her until the pressure was almost too much.

“Not yet,” I said. I wanted to see how long I could draw this out, how many times I could make her gasp or moan or curse my name.

I bent to kiss her again, our tongues colliding together, breath mingling. I lost track of my own hands. One cupped her jaw, thumb stroking her cheek; the other traced her ribcage, her waist, her thigh, savoring the tension in her muscles. She was so soft and so strong. I wanted to memorize every part of her, every sound she made, every way her body fit against mine.

When I finally pushed inside, I did it slow, savoring the give and heat of her. The first inch alone sent a pulse of pleasure up my spine. She was impossibly tight, her body resisting the stretch. I eased deeper, inch by inch, pausing to let her adjust, kissing her jaw, her neck, swallowing the soft, breathy sounds she made.

I drove in until our hips met, and the world narrowed to that single, searing point of connection. I held there, buried to the hilt, my entire body trembling with the effort of not moving. Her inner walls fluttered around me, gripping my shaft in a hot, wet clench. My balls drew up tight against my body, tingling with the threat of release.

“You okay?” I asked, kissing her temple.

She nodded, her eyes hazy. “Yeah. Good. Don’t stop.” Her fingernails dug into my shoulder blades, and she spread her thighs even farther apart, allowing me to sink deeper inside of her.

The sensation caused me to groan, the sound echoing off the walls. I held still, letting her adjust and letting myself adjust. My heart thudded in my chest so loudly I was sure she could hear it. She wrapped her legs around my waist once again, heels pressing into my back, locking me inside her.

I drew back and pushed forward, finding a rhythm that made her gasp with each stroke. I hooked my hand under her thigh and lifted, pressing her knee toward her chest and opening her wider. The new angle let me enter her further. I could feel my engorged head dragging against the spongy ridge inside her with every plunge.

“Yes…there…” she panted.

I thrust into her harder, faster, my hips snapping forward. Her leg began to twitch against my palm, a quiver running through her thigh. Her breath came in short, sharp bursts, her nails clawing at my shoulders.

I kept the pace relentless, watching her face contort with pleasure, feeling her walls begin to ripple and clamp around me in irregular spasms. I lost myself in the tempo, the way her body opened and closed with throbbing hot pressure.

I could feel her getting close, the way her muscles tightened, the sounds she made growing louder, more urgent. She broke the kiss, gasping, “Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Don’t⁠—”

Her climax slammed into her. Her back arched off the bed, her mouth falling open on a silent cry. Her inner walls milked me in rhythmic pulses, squeezing and releasing, squeezing and releasing, and it pushed me right over the edge with her. I buried myself to the hilt and let go.

My orgasm tore through me in shuddering waves, my cock jerking inside her as I spilled into the condom. It went on and on, longer than anything I’d ever felt. Heat flooding through me as I came hard, my face buried in her neck. My hips jerked involuntarily with each aftershock until I collapsed against her chest, both of us breathing hard, slick with sweat.

We stayed like that for a long time, tangled and trembling, her hands in my hair and mine on the curve of her waist. I didn’t want to move, didn’t want to lose the weight of her against me, the slick warmth of her body.

Awareness returned in pieces. First the thud of my pulse, slowing. Then the rasp of her breath against my neck, the damp heat of her skin beneath my palms, the rhythmic hush of waves rolling against the bluff beyond the open window. I pressed my lips to her shoulder, lingering there a beat longer than I should have, before easing away from her.

I padded into the bathroom and dealt with the condom, then braced my hands on either side of the sink. The man in the mirror looked wrecked: hair standing in every direction, eyes too bright. I twisted the tap and held my fingers under the stream until the cold bled into warmth, then soaked a washcloth and wrung it out.

When I stepped back into the bedroom, Mikayla lay sprawled across the tangled sheets, one arm flung over her eyes, her chest still rising and falling in quick, shallow pulls. Moonlight spilled across the curve of her hip.

I sat on the edge of the mattress. She flinched when the warm cloth touched her inner thigh, then went still, lifting her arm just enough to peer at me from beneath it. I worked slowly, gently, taking my time.

A dimple flickered at the corner of her mouth. “Wow. Full-service treatment.” Her voice came out husky, a little ragged. “Is this standard for every girl, or did I unlock a premium package?”

I tossed the cloth toward the bathroom doorway. It landed with a wet slap on the tile. “You want a brochure?”

“I want to know where you learned to be like this.”

I didn’t answer. Instead, I slid under the covers and reached for her, fitting her back against my chest, tucking her head beneath my chin. Her hair smelled like salt air and something sweet, vanilla maybe. For a moment, she melted into me, her fingers curling around my forearm where it banded across her stomach. Her breathing slowed to match mine.