The second man stepped into the frame, casually undoing his jeans.

Hannah inhaled. Her pussy clenched and I moaned.

“You’re making me feel so good. Keep watching.” I slid out of her—she whined at my absence—and climbed off the bed. The air of the bedroom felt cool against my body.

I disappeared into the closet, returning with Hannah’s vibrator—the LELO I bought for her last summer.

“Look.” I nodded at my laptop. The second man knelt on the bed before the woman. She got him hard with her hand and mouth. I watched for a beat, my pleasure intensified by Hannah’s bright blush and shy gaze. “You remember where this is going?”

“Y-yes…”

I dropped the vibrator between her knees.

“Do it, then,” I said, and we did. She did. Trembling exquisitely, Hannah pushed the toy into her body while I knelt in front of her and slid my member down the back of her throat—again and again. She took it all. Her eyes rolled toward the laptop, where the woman on the bed got her mouth and pussy fucked. I asked if Hannah liked it, being full. She nodded as well as she could. Saliva dripped from her lips.

And cum. My cum.

I gripped her hair and groaned as her tongue flickered against me.

“All you need … is something … in your ass,” I panted.

Hannah shuddered, convulsing on her toy.

I barely noticed when she dropped the LELO and dampened her finger with arousal. Her hot mouth, its tight vacuum and instinctive constriction, dragged me down. Had she come? Was she coming? I didn’t know.

Hannah wrapped a hand around my dick and let me thrust into her mouth. “Good,” I told her. “Close. Soon. Take it.”

She gripped my ass and her slippery finger pressed against my anus.

That sensation …

No woman had ever dared.

Drunk with pleasure, I grasped the headboard and bucked against her mouth.

“Is th-that … what you want to do?” I hissed.

I bowed over her and arched back.

“Then do it,” I said. Her finger pierced me. Ah—it was something strange—an intimate feeling beyond reason.

I poured myself into her mouth.

*   *   *

Pearlescent in her afterglow, Hannah lounged on top of me. Her sweet-smelling hair rolled across my chest. Her nipples, still hard, pressed into my skin. Excited me.

That is the state of desire, I guess. A state of imperfect satisfaction.

I slid my laptop onto the bedside table.

We hadn’t spoken for several minutes. I was savoring my orgasm—a powerful, jagged release—and playing it over in my mind.

“Did you come?” I said, wincing subtly. Usually I could tell.

“God, yes. Way too fast. I don’t know what got into me…”

I grinned. “I think porn got into you.”

“Matt.” She propped herself on my chest and frowned at me. “Did I hurt you?”

I shook my head, my smug expression fading.

Her hand browsed my side, from my thigh to my ribs. She leveled me with her stare. This was Hannah the woman—mature, confident, and patient. A force to be reckoned with.

“What?” I shrugged against the mattress.

“I don’t know. You tell me.”

I knew what she wanted to hear. I felt a phantom touch where she’d slid her finger.

“It didn’t hurt,” I said.

“Did it feel good?”

“I came, didn’t I?”

“Stop being silly. Silly boy…” She began to finger-comb my hair. She nuzzled her cheek against mine and whispered in my ear, “You liked it. Tell me.”

A dull throb between my legs reminded me how well I’d liked it.

“You like it when I finger your ass. I imagine it feels the same.”

“I love it,” she said.

“And I love you. Don’t make me spell it out.”

“You make me spell everything out.” She twisted one of my nipples—gently. I hissed. Fuck, she was feisty tonight.

“Didn’t know you were into sexual torture.” My breath caught as I snickered. Impossible to play it cool with her curves fitted to my body, her pussy so close to my cock.

“Hm, who knows what else I’m into?” She twisted harder. A twinge of pleasure-pain traveled straight to my dick. I rolled—Hannah squeaked at the sudden motion—and pinned her to the bed. I dragged my fingers over her mouth, her breasts, her cunt.

“All mine,” I whispered. “My fiancée.”

She closed her legs, trapping my erection between her velvet thighs.

“My husband to be,” she murmured. “All…” The muscles in her legs tightened, gripping me harder. “Mine.”

I tilted Hannah’s chin and made her look at me.

“I liked it,” I said. “What you did. No one’s ever…”

“No?”

“Just you.” I hesitated, my body aching. “I want to give you something.”

Beneath me, Hannah softened, a sweet smile spreading on her lips.

“All right,” she whispered.

Without climbing off her, I felt around in the bedside drawer until I found what I wanted: a small square box. Maybe because of what it contained—a platinum engagement ring, size six, with a one-carat diamond and two eight-diamond swirls around the band—it felt heavier than I thought it should. The ring was thick and modern in style; I had noticed Hannah admiring it the day we bought her father’s cuff links.