“I hope you’ll be comfortable,” she said and closed the door behind her.

Eli gave Miranda a look that melted her reserve, a blend of vulnerability, gratitude, and pure lust. He took her hand and kissed her fingers one at a time. “I can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done for me. You probably saved my life.”

A feminist fairy tale, she thought. This time, the damsel rescued the knight. She liked the idea; it made her feel daring and powerful. And sex was all about power. A surge of electricity zapped her like a vibrator teasing her clit. Cute guys are part of the adventure, she reminded herself. And if he’s supposed to be my future husband, I’d better check him out.

He glanced at the bed. “Miranda, I can sleep on the couch if you’d like.”

“No way.” She stepped forward and kissed him.

That was all the invitation Eli needed. He put his arms around her and drew her against him. Through his jester suit, she could feel his cock stiffen. He slid his hands under her T-shirt and deftly unhooked her bra. Cupping her breasts, he thumbed her nipples. Spikes of pleasure shot through her torso and lodged in her pussy. He pulled her T-shirt over her head, then unzipped her jeans. As he slid them down over her hips, taking her panties along with them, Miranda was certain she felt heat radiating from the tattoo on his palm.

When he’d divested her of her clothing, Eli stepped back and examined her intently. “You’re so beautiful. You remind me of Botticelli’s ‘Birth of Venus’.”

Want to win a girl’s heart, tell her she’s beautiful. Miranda grinned and struck a pose like the goddess in the famous painting.

He brushed her long hair back from her face and kissed her eyes, her earlobes, her neck, slowly working his way down to her nipples. As he sucked first one, then the other, his fingers found her slippery slit.

“How does this costume come off?” she asked impatiently, searching for buttons or a zipper.