“Oh, God!” I bucked against him as he finger- and mouth-fucked me. “Vaughn.”

And then the bastard did it again. Just as I was about to explode over the edge, he stopped.

“No!” I felt tears prick my eyes.

But that was only the beginning.

Vaughn tortured me with longing, just as promised, drawing his seduction to a halt every time I was about to orgasm.

I lay beneath him, staring up at him balefully. No man had ever made my body feel like this.

Made me feel like this.

I almost hated him for it.

As if Vaughn saw that in my eyes, he smiled in dark satisfaction.

“Is this what you want?” My mouth trembled with the urge to cry. I had no idea sex could do that to me.

Or unfulfilled desire, rather.

That hardness in his expression softened and he moved back up my body to cup my cheek in his hand. With a tenderness I never knew he had in him, he kissed me softly, sweetly. And when he pulled back, staring deep into my eyes he whispered, “Trust me.”

Cool air blew over me as he got up off the bed. I glanced up in confusion, wondering if he was leaving me. My body relaxed when I saw he was pulling a condom out of the wallet in his pants.

Finally.

But he even made rolling on the condom an act of torture, taking his time, stroking his cock as he did so, his pleasure-filled eyes narrowed on me.

I had a sudden image of him straddling me, stroking himself, and coming all over my breasts.

I couldn’t believe that idea turned me on so much, but with Vaughn it did.

“Vaughn. Please.”

He moved back up onto the bed, moving over me almost predatorily, graceful, strong; so very, very masculine. “Beg me again, Bailey.”

“What?”

His lips brushed mine, his teeth catching on my bottom lip, nibbling it. “Beg. Me.” The words were guttural. Demanding.

And my overly heated body burst into flames.

Because I realized something that turned me on even more than being controlled by Vaughn in the bedroom. He may have been in control of my orgasms . . . but I was in control of him. He needed me.

I wanted to give him what he needed. “Fuck me, Vaughn,” I whispered. “Please.”

He pushed up onto one hand and curled his other around my thigh, opening me . . . and he thrust inside me. Rough. Fierce.

I gasped his name in pleasure. Our eyes held as my breath scattered, and as he moved inside me, thick, overwhelming, hot, hard, deep, I felt like he could see into my soul and that I finally could see into his.

And I saw something that lit my world up.

Vaughn Tremaine cared about me.

Just like that, the tension inside of me splintered, shattered apart, throwing me over a cliff edge higher than I’d ever been thrown. And the fall . . . the fall was exquisite.

“Vaughn!” I cried, my eyes fluttering closed as pure, undiluted bliss rushed through my entire body; its focus in my center. My inner muscles clamped around Vaughn’s cock, the sensation so sexy, so raw, my fingernails dug into the muscles of his back as I held on for dear life.

I felt like it was never going to end, the ripples of my climax pulsing and pulsing around him. I was barely cognizant of the fact that Vaughn’s hips had slammed hard against mine. Stilled. And then they were jerking, his cock throbbing inside me as he came.

He came hard but nowhere near as long as I did. That would have been impossible.

I lay stunned, limp, jellylike as Vaughn made a growling noise and then buried his face in my neck.

Our chests rose and fell against one another as we tried to catch our breaths.

And that’s when I got it.

“Trust me,” he’d said.

He hadn’t tortured me to be cruel. He’d strung out foreplay to give me the longest, most devastating orgasm of my life.

Somehow I managed to move my languid arms and wrap them around him. I delighted in the feel of his heavy body over mine, and I remembered the look on his face as he came. His gritted teeth, his flushed skin, the dazed lust in his stunning pale eyes.

I pulsed around him, a little aftershock, and he groaned, lifting his head.

I didn’t give him a moment to overanalyze what we’d done, to pull out of me and disappear. Instead I kissed him, sweet, deep, wet. He kissed me back, and I rolled until I was on top of him and he let me. His hands caressed my back, my hair, my ass as we kissed and I writhed against him, needing more, wanting him hard again, ready.

I touched and tasted every inch of him until he was ready, until we were replacing the used condom with a new one.

This time I explored his beauty, the hard planes of his muscles, the heat of his skin, the salt of his sweat, the taste of his pre-come.

This time I rode him. I rode him slow, the desperation of our need eased by our first time together.

Now I could take my time enjoying him.

And enjoy Vaughn I did.

Because even as I straddled him, rising up and down on his cock, the look in his eye told me he was still the one in control here, and I felt that. But I also felt my power over him.

And there was no headier aphrodisiac.

Vaughn climaxed first, and as his hips bucked beneath mine he tipped me over the edge, and we came together.

Exhausted, stunningly exhausted, I slumped over him, and buried my face in his neck.

“I never dreamed it could be like this between us,” I whispered.

Never had I felt more relaxed, more connected, more at peace, more alive than I did in that moment, and for the first time in a long time I fell asleep without thinking about chores or work or anything . . . nothing but the man who was still inside me.