Page 124 of The Plus One Pact

We see that as a selfish action. A good lover is generous. A good lover puts their needs second.

But that's not true. A good lover is assertive. A good lover asks for what they crave. A good lover does what they enjoy.

That's the thing about pleasure. You can tell when someone is faking it. At least to some degree.

Even so, as I sit at Romeo's desk, sipping a gin and tonic in a cocktail dress, I can't help but wonder if he's really that good at faking it.

This isn't exactly a replay of the night we met, but it's the closest thing I could think of to normal. Some sort of normal.

He knocks on the door and steps inside. He's wearing a suit, again. A dark navy that brings out the flecks of honey in his eyes. He looks good at it, but I want the thing on the floor.

Sure, I could draw it out. I could take my sweet time. No. I will.

Once I have him naked.

I stand and greet him at the door.

He takes my hand and brings it to his lips. A gentlemanly hello.

I let him enjoy the moment, then I move closer, wrapping my arm around the back of his neck, bringing my lips to his.

I kiss him hard.

He murmurs in surprise, but he catches on quickly, groaning against my lips, pulling my body into his.

The surprise feels good. The reciprocation too. And the freedom to take what I want. Anything I want.

When his lips part, I slip my tongue into his mouth. I don't stop to think about it. I kiss him hard, my tongue dancing with his, my fingers curling into his skin.

When I pull back, I bring my hands to his tie and undo the knot.

He smiles at the gesture, but he makes no attempt to remove his clothing. Instead, he wraps his arms around me, and turns me around, so we're face to face with his mirror.

Oh.

A mirror.

It's placed in just the right spot, in front of the bedroom.

But, still, he doesn't make a move to remove our clothes. He looks at my reflection as he places his body behind mine.

His lips go to my neck.

His hands go to my thighs. Just under my dress. So, so far from where I need them, but in such a great spot too.

His fingers brush the hem of my dress. Then it's a little higher. Higher. Higher.

My back arches, my body already begging for more of his.

But he doesn't relent. He's cruel enough to whisper, "Not even close," into my ear. Then it's the scrape of his teeth against the lobe. Soft suction. Harder.

His lips against my neck.

One hand on my thigh. The other to my shoulder. He plays with the strap of my dress, tracing the line up and down and up and down again.

He's teasing me.

But I can tease him too. I want to tease him too. I need to tease him too.