Before she realized what was happening, Van Holtz slid his tongue inside her and Irene gripped his wet hair, keeping his mouth against her. Her body rocked against his face, her hips and pelvis pushing into him. Leaving the warm water made her thoroughly aware of the chill in the air, her nipples hardening almost painfully, goosebumps racing across her skin. But the sudden cold also made her more thoroughly aware of Van Holtz’s big hands tightly gripping her thighs, his mouth and tongue stroking her to orgasm as she shook and moaned beneath his mouth and hands.

Little else held her interest as he ate at her. Devoured her with a single-minded intensity that took her breath away.

Irene groaned as she came. She groaned and moaned and begged him not to stop. He didn’t. He took her over again and again, until she lay exhausted on his tile floor, her breathing ragged, her body trembling.

He pulled her back into the warm water, the bubbles much less than when she’d first gotten in. He held her against his body, stroking her back and arms until her trembling stopped.

“Sorry about that,” he ridiculously apologized. “But all I could think about was going down on you.”

She rested her head in the crook of his neck and sighed. “Anytime. And no apology necessary.”

He tried nothing else, even though she could feel his own unfulfilled lust resting hard and hot against her inner thigh.

Combing her fingers through his hair, she let out a satisfied sigh—and decided to have some fun of her own.

“You know, I read so many books,” he heard her say softly in his ear. Books? She wanted to talk about books now? But he didn’t have the heart to tell her to shut up. He quickly realized talking about books and what she knew gave her a sense of control she probably had in few other areas of her life.

“And,” she went on, “I read this book once written by a young homosexual writer.”

Van frowned, wondering where this particular conversation might be going. With Irene you really never knew.

“It was informational. About how to perform oral sex on men. You know, one man teaching another. It was really fascinating and I’ve always wondered about the techniques he discussed—ow. Ow! You’re squeezing a little hard, Van Holtz.”

Forcing himself to loosen the grip he had on her, Van leaned back a bit and looked at Irene. “Sorry.”

“It’s all right. Just remember I bruise easily. Now . . . where was I?”

“You always wondered about the techniques he discussed.”

“Oh. Yes. That’s right.” She glanced at him under eyelashes he’d never noticed were ridiculously long. Dark brown and long, which contrasted with those ice-blue eyes of hers. But it was the look she gave him and Van knew, in that moment, she was teasing him. Not teasing him in the sense she’d leave him and his poorcock to fend for themselves, but playfully teasing him like a lover would. “Anyway, I found some of the techniques he suggested fascinating, but I didn’t know if any of them could truly produce the response he promised.”

Van gritted his teeth. “And?”

“Well, if you’re willing to be my test subject—ack!”

He didn’t mean to toss her out of the bathtub like that and when she went sliding across the tiles he’d made wet and slippery from tossing her in and out of the water in the first place, he did feel a twinge of guilt. But it didn’t last as his cock took complete control of his brain. Slapping his hands against the edge of the tub, he gave one push and landed nearly five feet away. He grabbed a towel, wrapped it around Irene, and carried her to the bedroom.

He placed her carefully on the floor and walked away, giving them a little distance. He was terrified he’d pounce on her like some unsuspecting rabbit he’d found in his backyard.

Van closed the bedroom door—strictly because he needed something to do with his hands—and leaned against it. Letting out a breath, he looked at her. Let her take the lead, he warned himself.

“So . . . how do you want to do this?” he asked, and was damn proud of himself for managing that.

But Irene frowned in confusion.

“What? What’s wrong?” Christ, how did he get it wrong so damn fast?

“Aren’t you going to order me?”

“Huh?”

“You know. Tell me what you want.”

Suddenly Van was confused. “I thought you hated it when I bossed you around?”

“I do. Normally. Out there.” She pointed at the door he stood in front of. “But I’ve noticed that my sexual response is heightened when you order me around during intercourse.”

Van stared at her. He didn’t know what to say but he noticed she’d suddenly started to glow . . . and are those angel wings?

“Oh. Was that rude? I—”

“Quiet, Irene.”

She immediately fell silent and Van had to lock his knees so they wouldn’t buckle.

“Drop the towel.”

She did, slowly letting it slip off her body.

“Come here.”

She hesitated a moment, then slowly walked over to him.

He leaned over a bit, his nose nuzzling her chin and cheek. He breathed in the scent of her. God, she smells good. Irene responded to him, brushing her cheek against his. Her fingers, hesitant at first, slid up his biceps.

Van pressed his lips against her ear and softly ordered, “Now get on your knees, doc.”

Hands on her shoulders, Van eased Irene to her knees. Her breathing increased as she kneeled in front of him, her hands sliding down his thighs.