Page 73 of Bar Down

His fingers ran along the inside of her thigh, just brushing the edge of her panties. He kissed her until she moaned against his mouth, and then he pulled back to watch her face.

His fingers slipped beneath the fabric.

Stephanie gasped, hips twitching forward involuntarily.

“You’re wet already,” he murmured.

“I’ve been thinking about this since the supply closet.”

His jaw tightened slightly. Not with tension—just hunger. He slid one finger through her folds, slow, patient. Then another. Curling gently.

Her breath stuttered. She leaned back slightly, one hand braced on his shoulder, the other gripping his forearm. She kept her eyes on his—because somehow, that made it hotter. The way he watched her, so focused, so serious. Like her pleasure was a calculation he’d memorized and still wanted to double-check.

His thumb circled her clit. Not fast. Just enough.

Stephanie bit her lip, her body tensing. Marcus kissed her again, swallowing her soft whimper as he added more pressure, more rhythm.

Her head dropped to his shoulder, and her voice was breathless when she said, “Don’t stop.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

He found the right angle, and she broke. Her thighs trembled around his hand. Her breath caught. Everything inside her coiled and unraveled all at once. She pressed her face into his neck and let go. He didn’t stop until she twitched from oversensitivity, gently easing his fingers free and brushing his hand along her hip.

Stephanie was panting softly, cheek against his collarbone, body still shaking with aftershocks. He wrapped his arms around her and just held her there, their breathing syncing slowly, the music still humming behind them like a heartbeat.

“You okay?” he asked softly.

She smiled against his neck. “I’m better than okay.”

“Good.”

She lifted her head and kissed him—slow, grateful, charged.

Then she looked him in the eye and said, “Now it’s your turn.” Stephanie pushed up from Marcus’s lap and slipped to her knees between his legs.

He reached for her, but she shook her head once, a small, sly smile curving her lips.

“Stay right there,” she said softly. “Let me.”

His breath hitched.

She unbuttoned his jeans slowly, not for show, but because it felt good to take her time. To savor him. She slid the zipper down and eased the denim open, revealing the taut line of his lower abdomen, the way his muscles jumped under her fingers. He was hard—thick and flushed. His cock twitched slightly when she brushed her palm along the length of him through his briefs.

Marcus tipped his head back, eyes fluttering shut.

She hooked her fingers into the waistband and tugging them down. Wrapping her hand around him, slow and firm, she heard his breath catch again. Her mouth ghosting over his hipbone as she stroked him—long, deliberate strokes. Her thumb skimmed over the sensitive head with each pass. Marcus’s hands curled around the edges of the couch cushions, and she saw his control fraying, bit by bit.

“You’re going to kill me,” he muttered.

She looked up, grinning. “Not yet.”

She kissed his thigh, working her hand faster, and watched him fall apart with quiet, clenched-jaw groans that made heat pool low in her belly again.

When he started to tremble, she slowed her touch and pulled back. Teasing him right to the edge—then stopping.

Marcus exhaled hard, chest heaving. He looked at her like she’d just rewritten every formula he’d ever trusted.

She stood and leaned in close, lips brushing his ear.

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