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accountant for a long-term commitment. She craved a rough, hard fuck expertly delivered by a wild, sexually fierce lover.
    In Paul's arms, she could have an orgasm and reveal her dragon self without worry. Yes, she decided as she twined her arms around his neck and thrust her fingers into the blond hair at the back of his head, a mindless fuck would do her good.
    "I'd love it if you'd come.” She skimmed her lips across his and pressed her breasts against his chest. “Maybe even more than once."
    * * *
    It took Silvana and Paul less than five minutes to reach the third-floor, finally find her keys—which she belatedly remembered tucking into the front pocket of her jeans—and stumble inside the loft. They'd probably have reached it sooner if Paul hadn't insisted on kissing her the entire way up. He barely relinquished her lips even while they ripped off each other's clothes.
    She could taste the wine he'd had at dinner, mingled with the sweet remnants of coffee-flavored tiramisu. Beneath it all, that faint flavor of tobacco she'd scented on him lingered. Far from being unpleasant, it added a rich, luxurious layer to Paul's appeal.
    His tongue slid across the surface of hers, sending a jolt of arousal deep in her groin. Edgy ripples of sensual awareness rushed through her body, quickening her pulse. Her slick folds pressed against the thin fabric of her panties, throbbing lightly with awakened need.
    But although Paul's hands skimmed down her ribcage and slipped across her stomach, and although Paul's mouth trailed soft kisses along the vulnerable skin of her throat before delving inside the valley between her breasts, it was Rafael who occupied her thoughts.
    She forced herself to look at Paul, to see him doing these things to her, but it didn't help. She felt Rafael's hands, imagined his strong fingers hooking the waistband of her panties and pulling them down her legs. Paul was clean-shaven, but when he kissed her, she swore she could feel the brush of a softly bristled beard scrape her skin.
    A sob escaped her throat before she could catch it. She was going mad.
    "Lie down, baby,” Paul said, nudging her toward the bed. He'd obviously mistaken her strangled cry for a whine of discomfort, and she didn't bother to correct his assumption.
    Instead, she did as she was told, falling onto her back on the unmade bed. She hadn't expected company tonight, so she hadn't bothered to straighten up her bedroom. The rumpled sheets were still bunched and wrinkled, just as she'd left them. The pillow she'd tossed onto the floor in frustration after being unable to fall asleep, still lay there, halfway between the bed and the window through which streetlights spilled their muted neon glow.
    A strong hand touched her bare thigh. She sighed and tried to relax, splaying her legs open. Rafae—damn it!—Paul's palm traced an erotic path up the inside of her thigh. His thumb drew tiny little circles on her flesh as he crept upward, closer and closer to her bare cunt.
    She forced her eyes open when she realized they'd drifted closed, and took in the full effect of Paul's body. Like her, he was also naked. He knelt between her parted legs. The light streaming through the window provided just enough illumination for her to see the sleek, starkly defined lines of Paul's body and take in the impressive length of his cock without feeling like every one of her flaws was on display.
    Without feeling like she was on display.
    Rafael always shared her body with others. He made her face things about herself, about the way she felt regarding her body. Dark, uncomfortable things.
    She gritted her teeth and beamed a forced smile at Paul. This was not about Rafael. For all she knew, he was still down on the street. He could be stroking his cock in dismal solitude for all she cared.
    That thought brought a lightning-quick image to flash across her mind. Rafael's large cock curved against the muscled ridges of his stomach. His fist gliding up the solid