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It's deep and urgent, his hand cradling my face, and I can feel my lipstick transferring to his mouth and I do not care even slightly.

He walks me backward until my shoulders hit the mirrored wardrobe, cool glass against my bare back, his body a wall of firm, muscular heat in front of me.

"Do not ruin this dress," I order between kisses, reaching for his belt. "I mean it. It goes back to the boutique."

"I'll touch nothing above the waist," he vows against my mouth, biting down on my lips and sucking hard.

His hands drag the green skirt up my thighs, gathering it in his fists. The split makes it easy, too easy, the fabric sliding away from my leg like the dress is on his side. His fingers find the lace of my panties and he groans into my neck as his fingers find my heated core.

"Already?" he says, dragging one knuckle over the soaked fabric. "Sweetheart, dinner hasn't even started and you're drenched for me."

"You just spanked me in formalwear. These are the consequences of your actions."

He laughs, and then the laugh dies in his throat because I've got his belt open and his zipper down. I reach for his cock, stroking him in my hand, loving how fucking warm it feels beneath my fingers.

"Audrey." He bites down on my neck. "We have fifteen minutes."

"Then stop narrating, and fuck me."

He lifts me up easily, placing his hands under my thighs and my back flat against the mirrored wardrobe. My legs wrap around his waist while the skirt bunches around his forearms in fistfuls of glittering green.

He doesn't even bother to remove my underwear.

He just hooks one finger into the lace and drags it aside, and the head of his dick nudges against my bare, wet pussy.

We both go still for one shaking second, his cock sliding over my clit.

"Ruin me," I whisper. "Not the dress."

"Deal."

He thrusts into me in one wickedly thick slide, and my eyes squeeze shut as my head falls back against the mirror with a hard thud.

"OH!" I moan loudly, clawing his shoulders. "FUCK!"

The stretch of him steals my breath. The fullness, the heat, the way my pussy grips him like it's been waiting all day.

"Fuck," he breathes, forehead dropping to mine. "Look at you. Dressed like that, taking my cock against a mirror."

He fucks me harder.

"Above the waist," I gasp. "You promised—"

"I'm keeping it." His hips roll deeper, and the mirror thumps behind me. "Barely."

He fucks me standing, one hand gripping my thigh over his hip, the other braced against the glass beside my head.

It's frantic and playful and urgent, and the clock on the nightstand is glowing its warning of the sponsor dinner filling with people three floors down.

He drives deeper and I arch, and my breasts nearly spill out of the neckline entirely, straining against the fabric with every thrust.

"Above the waist," he groans, staring down at them, "was the stupidest promise I've ever made."

"Suffer," I pant, and clench around him on purpose.

His rhythm stutters. "You're evil."

"You love it."