Page 45 of VOGUEish

“Does that hurt, Barbie?” He gripped her hip with one hand and placed his other against the window.

The endearment was growing on her. “It’s good.” Below, she noticed a couple kissing under a dim streetlight. For the briefest of seconds, the guy looked straight at her. Or at least, it felt like he was. A thrill went through her.

Chandler began a slow in and out stroke. “Touch yourself.” His voice was gruff in her ear. “But don’t come.”

She slipped one hand between her legs and rubbed her clit as he pumped into her from behind. The building anticipation so keen she couldn’t breathe. Did the curtain just flutter in the window across from hers?

“Pinch yourself,” he demanded.

She did. The result damn near made her fly apart.

“Harder. Rub harder. Rub faster. Pinch.”

She followed his commands as he pounded, driving her to a brink she’d never been to before. A brink she wanted to take a swan dive off. “Can I come?” The couple below were in an intimate embrace. Again, the guy glanced toward her window. The debauchery of possibly being on display for a stranger to see while being claimed by Chandler caused Isabella’s clit to pulse in the most delicious rhythm imaginable. “Can I come?” she begged.

“Only if you want a spanking. Is that what you want?”

The pulses turned to molten waves of heat that pushed for release. Would Chandler spank her? She’d never been spanked. “No.”

Down below, the guy continued to look in her direction as he slowly raised the woman’s skirt high enough Isabella could see her ass cheeks. Was he—

Chandler pulled out and swatted her ass.

“Ouch. I said no.” Being spanked hurt a lot and as a rule she didn’t like pain, but…hmmm, she might be persuaded to make an exception.

He rubbed the spot. “You forgot to say sir.”

“Sorry, sir,” she murmured, not the least bit sad he’d spanked her.

“Better.” He picked her up and carried her to the bed. He came down on top of her and slid into her in one smooth move. “Now you can come. While I’m looking into your eyes. I want to see what I do to you.”

She raised her legs and wrapped them around his butt, squeezing. He reached between them and thumbed her clit. That was all it took. Waves of heat crashed and tumbled and spiraled in a dramatic fashion. Her conscious mind shut down. A basic need for satisfaction driving everything she did or uttered.

“You’re fucking gorgeous.” His voice was guttural. Hoarse with desire.

She convulsed her muscles around him. “Am I driving you over an edge?” The look on his face made her feel like a courtesan taught in the ways of ancient seduction.

“Oh, Barbie.” His movements became so intense, she fought to keep her legs hooked around his waist. She clung to him, unwilling to let go, digging her nails into his shoulder blades, enjoying his guttural noises of pleasure.

“Do you want to come, sir?” she whispered into his ear before nipping his lobe.

He stilled. “Fuck, yes.” He moaned and pushed up enough to gaze into her eyes. “But not yet.” His blue eyes were heavy with lust.

She squeezed her muscles around him. “How about now while my pussy—”

“Fuuuck.” His eyes slid closed, and he jerked several times.

Triumph swept through her. She’d done that to him. Caused the Grinch of Manhattan to lose control.

He collapsed and rolled off her, bringing her in to his side as he did. “What have you done to me?”

“Made you my Ken, of course.” She kissed his neck and smiled. Consumed with sexual contentment.

He tucked her into the crook of his arm. “Indeed, you have.”

Isabella gave a happy sigh. Tomorrow, she’d think about all the firsts that had happened tonight, but right now she simply wanted to wallow in this feeling of total contentment. A contentment like none she’d ever known after sex.

The sound of the front door opening startled Isabella out of a heavy sleep. She sat up and looked at the clock. Three a.m. She pushed Chandler’s shoulder. “Wake up.” Had he meant to fall asleep? She would have pegged him to be the type who didn’t do sleepovers. The type who fucked and fled.

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