"I know every blind spot on this estate." I lean closer, fingers trailing up her thighs, pushing fabric out of my way. "Every camera angle. Every patrol route. Every place I could take you apart without a soul knowing."
A full-body shiver rolls through her.
"And this spot right here?" My teeth graze her earlobe and she gasps. "No sightlines. No cameras. Just you, me, and seventeen minutes I plan to make you feel for the rest of the day."
"Someone could come?—"
"No one's going to see." I pull back just enough to meet her eyes. "But even if they did? Would you want me to stop?"
She sucks in a breath, teeth sinking into her lower lip.
"I've spent months pretending I didn't want to break every finger that landed on your skin." My thumb traces her jaw. "I'm done, Red."
"Fuck," she breathes.
I kiss her again. Harder this time.
She whimpers into my mouth, dissolving as our tongues slide together. Her hands fist in my jacket, tugging me closer. I slip one hand behind her head, protecting her skull from the unforgiving stone, wrapping my other hand around her throat.
"Be a good girl and stay quiet for me." My lips brush hers with every word. "Can you do that?"
She nods frantically.
"I need to hear it."
"Yes," she mewls. "I will."
I drop to my knees, and the startled sound that comes out of her makes my cock throb against my zipper.
"What are you?—"
"Quiet." I shove her dress up her thighs without an ounce of finesse. "You're going to have to be very, very quiet."
"Tristan, not like?—"
I look up at her, fingers finding the edge of her underwear as Iwait. Giving her a moment to push me away, to show me she truly doesn't want this.
Instead, her hips roll forward and her eyes grow heavy-lidded with want.
I hold her gaze while I drag her panties down her legs. Then I stuff them in my pocket.
"I don't think this is a good idea." Her voice has gone reedy.
"No?" I hook her thigh over my shoulder, spreading her open. "I can't have breakfast?"
"Oh my god."
"That's not my name." I press a kiss to her inner thigh, right where the skin turns impossibly soft. "Try again."
A shaky laugh escapes her.
I drag my tongue up her slit, and the laugh dies in her throat.
The first taste of her makes my vision blur.
Sweet and slick and—fuck—I'd forgotten. I'd convinced myself I'd exaggerated it over the years, built it up into something better than reality, because that's what deprivation does to a man.
I was wrong.
