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His laugh comes out slightly strangled. “Fuck no. Very much the opposite.”

Baryn’s career involves him knowing what to do with his mouth. I’m beginning to think podcasting is a waste of his talents.

His tongue follows the curve of the metal before sucking it gently between his teeth. That little bit of roughness is exactly right.

He slides a hand between us, popping the button on my jeans and sliding the zipper down. “Okay?”

“Yes,” I say, more desperate than I intend.

He slides his hand under the waistband of my panties, fingers finding me already soaked before sinking them inside. His thumb circles my clit with unnerving precision.

“Like this?” He punctuates the question by sucking the spot just beneath my ear.

“More,” I demand, and he obliges, finger fucking me while his thumb keeps up the relentless pressure. I gasp, and he watches my face, rapt, as I come hard.

He kisses me again, softer this time. I pull his hand away because I want him inside me. Now.

I shuck his joggers down, taking his boxers with them. He’s beautiful, all of him; lean and strong and blatantly aroused. I want to take my time with him. Next time, maybe?

God, I hope there is a next time.

He pulls me back into his lap, and this time, when I lower myself onto him, there’s no barrier, no more patience. I take him in slowly, savoring the stretch, the way he fills me. He groans, low and feral, and his hands dig into my hips.

I stop there, partly because I need to adjust and partly because his face is doing something extraordinary. His eyes have fallen shut, his jaw tight, every trace of his usual smart-ass composure gone.

“Look at me,” I say.

His eyes open immediately.

For a moment, neither of us moves. We’re suspended, every sense dialed to maximum. His hands loosen on my hips, thumbs moving over my skin, and I realize he’s waiting for me. Even now. Even after I told him I didn’t want to think, he’s giving me the choice of what happens next.

So I make it.

I rock forward, and he sucks in a breath.

“There,” he says quietly.

I do it again.

His reaction is immediate enough to make me smile. “There?”

“Don’t get smug.”

“I’m gathering feedback.”

“Serena.”

I set the pace, slow at first, then harder, faster. He meets every bounce with a thrust of his own, his eyes locked on mine.

I’m accustomed to being observed. Studied, even. I’ve spent most of my life acutely aware of other people looking at me and wondering what, exactly, is wrong with me.

Baryn looks at me like there isn’t a single thing he would change.

I don’t know what to do with that.

The pleasure between us builds until holding onto a coherent thought becomes impossible. I know I’m close. He must feel it too, because he brings his thumb to my clit again, drawing tight circles as he thrusts up into me. “Bear, fuck.”

“I know.” He says it like me too. Like right there with you.