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My heart pounded in my ears. “I’m learning.”

Reeve trailed his fingers lower, down my neck, over the space where my pulse fluttered in my throat. “No. You aren’t yet. But you will.”

But you will. The words were a promise I ached for him to fulfill. I wanted him to show me and teach me and correct me. I wanted to learn to please him with a desperation I couldn’t explain.

He pressed his pelvis into mine and I could feel the throb of his cock against my center through the thin barrier of his trunks. “Still want this?”

“More than ever.”

His lip turned up in an appreciative grin while his hand reached down to undo his trunks. “I’m not concerned whether it feels good for you or not.”

“What happened to your fucking being of value to both partners?” As soon as I said it, I realized I was pushing my limits.

But Reeve only smirked. “This isn’t my screen test. It’s yours. I don’t give value until I know it’s deserved.”

Perhaps it wasn’t the best time to throw his words back at him, but out they came. “Awfully confident, aren’t you? Some people might call it egotistical.”

“Emily —” It was a sharp warning, but I swore I saw amusement behind his eyes.

Still, I’d gone too far. And I didn’t even know why. I just couldn’t help myself, as though I thought that if I fought against him until the very last moment that I’d somehow hate myself less for it when I finally gave in.

Or maybe that wasn’t it at all. Maybe I simply knew how good it would finally feel to submit, how rewarding. And it scared me. Scared me almost as much as the idea of not having it at all.

I was so aroused. Every cell in my being was on fire, ready to combust. And Reeve was there, on top of me, telling me he would have me and all I had to do was let him. “Okay, okay,” I said, serious now. “No teasing.”

“Good girl.” He braced his elbows on the ground at either side of my head, then nudged my thighs apart with his knee and settled between them. I could feel the tip of his cock at my entrance, could feel it twitch as his eyes scoured over my lips and breasts – lips he had yet to kiss today, breasts he had yet to touch or lick.

That was when I understood that he wouldn’t. Not this time. He wouldn’t caress or explore my body, wouldn’t indulge even though I could tell he wanted to. He was going to make this as sterile as possible, for what reason, I didn’t know. To say that he denied himself? As some sort of self-challenge? To prove a point?

Whatever his motive, I couldn’t go along with it. I needed release. I was too wound up, too painfully turned on. At the risk of crossing the line again, I asked, “Any problem if I concern myself with it? With feeling good?”

He hesitated only a fraction of a second. “By all means, go ahead.”

One hand clutching to his shoulder, I lowered my other hand and pressed my thumb to my clit just as he shoved up and inside me. I cried out in surprise, but also in a bit of pain and a whole lot of pleasure. I hadn’t been exactly prepared, and damn, he was hung. Or he just filled me in the right way. I didn’t know since I hadn’t actually seen him.

Reeve locked his eyes with mine. Though he said nothing, I could see that he was just as shocked as I was by… by what? The initial contact? The fit? The electricity that radiated in waves from where we were finally joined? Jesus, he wasn’t even moving yet.

And then he was.

He was moving, thrusting in deep, even strokes. Each time he entered, he buried himself to the balls. Each time he pulled out, he withdrew to his tip. His long, languid tempo ensured that I felt every part of his cock each and every time he filled me and released me. The tension in my belly knotted and tightened. With the added pressure on my clit, I’d be over the edge soon. Too soon.

Reeve’s expression didn’t change. He was restrained, in control while I was spiraling out of it.

I started to move my hand away.

“Put it back,” Reeve said, the gravel in his voice the one indication that he was affected. “Keep touching yourself.”

“Thought you didn’t care. If it felt. Good for me.” My words were breathy and my phrases short.

There was a glint in Reeve’s eye. “I don’t. But if you come, it will feel better for me.”

I resumed the swirling of my bud, cautiously, but even with the half-hearted effort, my orgasm began to build. It was so erotic – Reeve’s detached attitude, the primal way he rutted into me, the fact that we were in plain sight of everyone in his house. My fingernails dug into his shoulder and I bit my tongue, trying to remain as stoic as he was and failing as tiny sighs of pleasure escaped behind my closed lips.

Reeve pushed forward, inching my hips back so that he hit even deeper. Then he increased his speed, rocking my backside into the concrete in a way that scratched and stung. “Since this is all self-serving” – his voice was even grittier now, husky and raw – “you don’t need to tell me that it feels good. Because I don’t care.”

“Right.” Damn, though, it was too much. It felt so fucking good. “Ah, God. It’s so. Ah.”

“Don’t say it.” The warning that laced his words only inched me further toward the pinnacle. “Don’t you dare say it.”