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“Yes,” I choke out a harsh breath.

“Come, then I’ll give you more.”

His tongue strikes with the precision of a surgeon’s scalpel, hitting the exact spot that has me shuddering with need.

Now I know why he tied my hands together. With each press of his lips or graze of his fingers, my body is more attuned into each sensation, making me realize what I enjoy, like how he opens my folds and sucks on each one.

When we had sex a few days ago, I was a mumbling mess, totally overwhelmed by the top-notch sex. Tonight, I feel increased intimacy, simply by not using my hands. What I thought would feel dirty, feels so loving. I thought I would be ashamed of being tied up like somehow, I would lose my bad-ass woman card. Instead, I feel free.

Aching but free.

John makes sure I orgasm before he stops and lifts my legs straight up, holding both of my ankles in his hands. He stares at my center and says, “If you could see what I see—your centerglistening and dripping because of what I’m doing to you—you would never want it to end.”

“John.” My voice catches, and his name hangs heavy in the air.

“I’m sorry. I just don’t want this to end.”

Does he mean he doesn’t want the sex to end? Or he doesn’t want the relationship to end when we return to the real world?

His knees scoot closer, and our sweaty thighs stick together. Holding his erection in one hand, he swirls the velvety head against my clit and a chorus of yes’s slips from my mouth.

“You love your clit to be touched and stimulated. Don’t ya, Bex?”

“Yes,” I expel a substantial breath. I want more, to experience how the hands-free stimulation heightens the moment.

He pushes in, burying himself deep inside me and I feel so full until he pulls out slowly and then back in hard. Hard and soft. Hard and soft until I’m begging him to wreck me.

Sweat beads on his chest and forehead as an omnipotent smile graces his face, and he keeps the agonizing slow pace and places my ankles on his shoulders, pressing his lips against each of my legs.

With my ass off the mattress, he moves his hips with a renewed sense of urgency. “Oh, yes. Oh, God,” I mutter a bunch of curse words together that make no sense at all but who can think when the hottest, cockiest, sweetest, most caring man is pounding me into a coma.

Digging his fingers into my thighs, my body takes on a life of its own. I’m a quivering, mumbling mess as my muscles clamp down on his dick, and my ankles squeeze against his neck.

“Milk my cock, Sunshine,” he says with a raw groan coming from deep in his chest. My back arches, and I try to get my hands free so I can hold onto him. The candlelight shadows his face, but a sly smile tips the corners of his mouth. “I can’t hold off much longer.” Each word that falls from his lips is strained,and the veins pop in his neck as I call his name, coming harder than I did last time.

A roar comes from his throat, and his body goes rigid. “Fuck, baby,” breaks free as he pulls out and paints me with creamy ropes. Our chests heave, both gasping for air.

He lets my legs fall on each side of his, and his body collapses on mine. When his breathing pattern returns to normal, he nips at my neck and whispers, “I love how your body reacts when I say dirty things to you.”

I feel myself blush. “Untie me please. I need to touch you.”

He reaches up, slipping the belt out of the knot and unbuckling the brass latch, kissing my wrists. “I have to admit, I missed your hands touching me and your fingers digging into my ass but damn, you’re sexy when you’re helpless.”

“I wasn’t helpless. I could give you a knee to the groin if you didn’t please me,” I tease and feel a hint of bashfulness creeping up my neck.

“I promise I’ll always please you.”

“You definitely pleased me.”

He falls to his side, rolling me on top of him, lightly rubbing my back with the pads of his fingers. Our skin presses and glues together, and it’s hard to imagine being anywhere else—ever. Anchored by his heartbeat, I confess, “You were the one I turned to in college. You made me feel safe, never pressing for more. I mean, you always stopped whenever I asked you to. Looking back, you were a big part of me getting over that incident.”

He tilts my chin up from his chest. “It wasn’t an incident. It was sexual assault.”

“I know.” I nod. “But what I’m trying to say is I love you too. Underneath it all, you’ve always been there for me.”

He stares into my eyes, calculating my words. “Don’t say you love me because it’s what I want to hear. Or because I comfort you. Say it because you feel it.”

“John, I’m saying it because it’s true. Being able to comfortsomeone isn’t easy. Everyone tried, but I only wanted to talk to you about Mamaw or the divorce. I vented to Corbin, Oakley, and Madison, but you were the one I leaned on and told specifics.”