Page 84 of What Happens in Amsterdam

A twist of his mouth as he considers this, rolling to one side, propping himself up on his elbow. “There’s a full-length mirror on the back of my door. I’ve wondered…what it might be like to watch ourselves.”

I remember how he took his time undressing me in the bathroom mirror. The hitch of his breath. I can’t tell him yes fast enough.

He unhooks the mirror, and there’s a bit of maneuvering as we position it, ultimately propping it up against a chair so both of us can see our reflections.

“Sit here?” he asks, nudging me in front of him on the bed once we’re both undressed. He slots himself behind me so that the mirror gives him a full view of my body. One of his hands comes around to palm my breast, the other rubbing circles on my hip.Tracing the petals of my tattoo. “I want to see what you look like when you’re touching yourself.”

My throat goes dry at his words, but there’s no hesitation as I spread my legs wide. I want him to see everything he wants, at every angle. “Only if you tell me what to do,” I say, and he hardens against my lower back.

His reflection grins. Wicked. “I can do that.” As I settle myself against him, he turns thoughtful, as though choosing his instructions carefully. “Lick your fingers,” he says in a low voice. “And start teasing yourself. Slower—I know you can get greedy.”

I can’t resist a little whine at that, but I make myself pull back. With my middle finger, I stroke gently along my lips, that slight back and forth already drawing out a shudder. “Like this?”

In the mirror, he gives me a nod. Presses a kiss to my shoulder. “Fuck, this view. Look how pretty your pussy is.”

His legs are bracketing mine, and not unlike when I was in his lap at the bar—but so much better—I can feel every vibration of his body. Every breath. It’s incredible to be this open with him. There’s no part of myself I’m trying to hide, and maybe his fantasy is mine too, because there’s something intensely erotic about being ready to watch ourselves like this.

He nudges my head to one side to expose my neck, mouth landing in the soft skin there. “God, you’re perfect. Put your finger inside. Tell me how wet you are.”

“So wet.” I gasp at the slippery sound between my thighs. “Dripping. Just for you.”

He groans, sucking at my neck while he watches me in the mirror, pink and swollen and glistening. I lift my hand away for just an instant, panting and already missing the heat, but it’s worth it for the way his eyes flutter shut when I bring a finger to his mouth.

“Can you handle two fingers?” he asks, a new confidence in his voice. “Can you fuck yourself with two fingers for me?”

For me. Those two words somehow do more than any of the others. There’s something undeniably tender about having him this way and knowing it doesn’t have to be an either-or. Dirty and sweet. Wholesome and depraved. Everything in between.

It occurs to me in this moment that he could ask me for anything and I’d do it. I’d get absolutely filthy for him and love every second.

I slide two fingers inside, nearly arching off the bed with the pleasure of it. I’m gripping his arm gripping my thigh, a deep flush spreading across my face, down to my neck, between my breasts.

“So goddamn sexy. I could watch you like this all day.” He sinks his teeth into my shoulder, and I cry out at the sensation. “Rub your clit. You’re dying for it, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” I manage, feathering my touch exactly where I need it.

With his cock shoved against my tailbone and his teeth in my skin, I’m not sure how much longer I can last—or how much longer I can wait to undo him. My legs are shaking, fingers quick, head thrown back.

“I—I’m going to come.”

“Yeah? Let me hear you.”

Everything tightens, my vision shrinking to the size of a pinprick before I fall apart with a delirious gasp, a burst of incandescence as he crests the wave with me, kissing my neck and my shoulder and the back of my head. He murmurs words like “beautiful” and “perfect” and “Dani.Dani.”

But we’re not done.

I push forward just as he grabs hold of my hips, helping me down onto all fours. His knees press hard into the mattress. In an instant, he’s filling me, burying himself between my thighs, and here’s another first: this position.

“Good?” he asks, slowly moving himself backward before plunging in again.

“Very.”

He watches my breasts bounce in the mirror while he fucks me from behind, an awed but fiercely determined expression on his face.Stunning. I flex my back to take him deeper. Slant my hips backward. There’s a hard line of tension from his jaw to the hollow of his throat, and I’m still so dazed from my orgasm that every thrust feels explosive. It’s almost too much, in the best possible way. I close my eyes before realizing I don’t want to miss a moment of it—not when he sucks on a finger before teasing it along the seam of my ass. Not when he reaches around to stroke my clit with his other hand, yellow squares of paper in complete disarray all around us.

Just like that, I’m close again. And he knows it.

“Come with me, lief,” he says, and our eyes meet in the mirror as he takes us through the final motions, our reflections crazed and sweaty andvulnerable, maybe most of all.

It’s never been like this.

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