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melted away, leaving her with a growing awareness of him—his teeth, his tongue, his fingers and palms. She shivered at the sensation running through her, the deep throbbing desire that made her ache for him. Almost against her will she moved against him, wanting more. She grew increasingly willing to accept whatever he would give.
    She arched her back in pleasure.
    â€œRelax, Zoe. Lean your head back and enjoy the ride.”
    She did as he said, basking in the strange sense of freedom. A long sound of pleasure escaped her. It was loud enough so that at the least the people on the nearest benches must have heard her. She didn’t care.
    He flicked his tongue across a taut nipple, and she shuddered in pleasure. Her delight grew. She squirmed in his arms, gasping. “Please,” she said, begging for release. His hand crept up her bare thigh, and she felt only anticipation, excitement.
    Finally, finally, he reached between her legs and oh so gently stroked her.
    His mouth traveled up to the tender spot behind her ear. He bit her earlobe as his fingers slipped over and around her throbbing clit.
    She fought back a moan and the urge to press against him. Enslaved by the delicious ravishment that overwhelmed her senses, Zoe yielded herself completely. If he stopped now . . .
    â€œOhh,” she moaned, widening her legs. “Don’t stop.”
    He didn’t.
    She couldn’t control herself any longer. Zoe began moving rhythmically against his hand and shifting to show him exactly the right angle. She hadn’t known the angle would matter. Here? he seemed to ask. No, there. Like this? Yes, just like that.
    He added more fingers. Suddenly it felt like he had a fingertip slithering around every slippery centimeter.
    Her body stiffened and she knew she was so close. He didn’t miss a beat. Suddenly, she cried out. She knew everyone in the park heard her, and she didn’t care a bit. Her muscles pulsated against his fingers, and he expertly pressed against her, satisfying her.
    Finally, she fell against him in exhaustion.
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    â€œIs it always that good?” she nearly whispered a few minutes later, still basking in the radiant feeling of it.
    â€œIt should be.”
    His thick voice reminded her that he’d had no such release.
    â€œCan I—can I do something for you?” She moved her hand, slightly, to clarify her offer.
    â€œYes,” he said, moving her hand away from him. “Tell me how long it’s been since someone did that for you.”
    â€œYou mean, take my underclothes, make me dance nearly naked in front of a bunch of lesbians, and then maul me in a public place?” she asked, laughing.
    â€œI want an answer,” he said in a warning voice.
    â€œDo you mean, when was the last time someone touched me?” she asked in a more serious tone.
    â€œNo. When was the last time someone made you come?”
    Her shoulder muscles tensed defensively. He must have felt it, because he said, “It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
    â€œI guess Jeff and I weren’t all that compatible. Sexually.”
    â€œHow long were you together?”
    â€œClose to two years.”
    â€œYou spent two years with someone who didn’t satisfy you?”
    â€œWell,” she said, trying not to sound self-protective. “He used to try.”
    â€œDo you mean that you never once came with him?”
    â€œOr with anyone else. It wasn’t just him.” She swallowed. “I thought orgasms—at least for women—were created for somebody’s ad campaign. To sell cars and perfume.”
    â€œDo you still think that?”
    â€œHaving had one,” she said, snuggling against him, “I believe that they’re at least occasionally possible. But we didn’t have sex, did we?” The question was rhetorical.
    He admonished, “You should have them regularly.”
    â€œOnce is one thing,” she laughed. “I