Timeless
flecks of gold in his warm brown eyes. His full lips are inches from mine, and I close my eyes as I arch slightly toward him, eager to feel his mouth, to taste him again after all these years.
    But he doesn’t kiss me. Instead, his hand is on my breast, loosening the clamp, and I gasp at the intense pain as the blood floods back into my nipple. I whimper.
    “Shh,” he murmurs. “Taking them off is the worst. Breathe.”
    I try to suck air into my lungs, but it’s hard when his hot mouth is closing over my throbbing nipple, his tongue licking it gently and sending little tremors vibrating through my sex.
    “Deeper!”
    It’s a command, and I obey, inhaling deeply as his fingers find the other clamp. He removes that one also, his mouth and tongue instantly soothing the pain and sending me hurtling toward that sharp precipice of desire again.
    “See? You could do better.” His voice is gruff and confident.
    I swear I’d do anything he told me to when he uses that low, authoritatively sexy tone.
    With one hand still imprisoning my wrists, he slides his finger through my wet folds and plunges it deep inside of me. I arch my back, my breath coming in short pants now.
    “Please!” I beg mindlessly.
    He gives me what I want, his finger alternately dipping deep inside me and then slowly circling my clit over and over until I’m writhing beneath his grip. With his finger buried inside of me, he curls it toward my pelvis, touching some hidden bundle of nerves. At the same time, he presses against my clit with his thumb and I come undone.
    My scream seems to come from somewhere else, and I convulse around him. I’m floating, lost in some alternate galaxy of bliss. I slowly come back down to Earth and the realization that I just let Marcus Dunn—the man I’ve hated for the last ten years for walking away from me without a word—give me the best orgasm I’ve had in…well, ten years. Damn him!
    He seems almost as shocked as I am, and I see regret flare in his eyes. I thought I was over the humiliation and pain of his rejection, but it seems I’m doomed to relive it. He walked away from me, and from what we had, for a reason, and apparently nothing’s changed.
    Well, fuck him! There are plenty of other guys here who can give me what I need, now that I know what it is.
    “I’m sorry,” he says. “I shouldn’t have taken it that far.”
    “No problem,” I say breezily, turning my back to him as I quickly slip my dress back on. “Thanks for the lesson. It was…nice.”
    I feel smug satisfaction at the way his mouth tightens at the insult.
    “Go home, Ari,” he says wearily.
    “I’m just getting started. Just because you don’t want to play any more doesn’t mean I don’t. I'm here to have fun, and I intend to have it. You don't have to babysit me anymore. I'm fine.”
    I’m halfway to the bar where a group of Doms are teasing a poor girl who’s been laid out on the bar as the men alternate taking shots off her body when he catches up to me. He grabs my arm and whirls me around to face him. There’s no doubt about it; this time he’s mad.
    “You think I don’t want to play anymore?” he demands.
    “Yeah! That’s exactly what I think. I saw the regret in your eyes after... that.” I wave my hand toward the corner we came from, unsure what to call what just happened. “If I’d known you’d be here, I never would have come. But we’re both here, and I for one have no intention of leaving. You may not want me, Marcus Dunn, but that doesn’t mean no one else does.”
    “That’s it,” he growls. He grabs my arm, dragging me away from the bar and toward the lobby. “There is clearly some unfinished business between us. We need to talk.”
    We’re in the grand lobby now and the fire that was roaring earlier has burned down to glowing embers. “Here?” I ask. There’s no way I’m inviting him up to my room.
    He glances over at one of the leather couches where a tough-looking man is cradling a
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