Page 491 of The Morally Grey Billionaires Boxset

Mira

"Hold yourself open for me," he growls.

Fish in the snow, his words are hard and demanding and… I can’t say no. I manage to widen the space between my legs, then reach down and hold open my pussy lips.

"Good girl."

I’m not ashamed to say, I almost climax.

Just from his words. The way he says it, it makes me feel like the most special person in the entire world, and the luckiest. He stares at my glistening cunt—I can feel the moisture gathering at my slit—then reaches down and squeezes his cock from base to tip.

It’s the first time I’ve seen my husband without a stitch of clothing, and the reality far surpasses my dreams. Sculpted shoulders, corrugated chest, concave waist, not to mention, the eight pack he sports like he works out every day, and those thick powerful thighs without an inch of fat on them.

He’s pure muscle, all the way down to his calves and his bare feet.

Something about his feet shoots my blood pressure through the roof.

I have a foot fetish—correction I have an Edward fetish.

He widens his stance, and my gaze is drawn up to where he massages his thick cock once more, all the way to the crown.

There’s a vein running up it, and moisture drips from the slit.

"Put three fingers inside yourself," he commands.

"Th-three?"

He merely arches an eyebrow.

I swallow as my heart descends to the space between my legs. The blood roars so loudly in my ears, I'm sure the sea has risen all the way to the top of the lighthouse. I slide three fingers into my opening and pause.

"All the way in."

"I… I can’t."

"You took my cock inside you; your fingers are nothing."

Moisture drools from my core. I thrust my fingers inside, and sensations vibrate out from the intrusion. I'm so sensitive, flickers of heat zip through my blood.

"Hold out your fingers and show me your cum."

OMG, that dirty talking mouth of his is going to make me orgasm without him having touched me. I manage to glide my fingers out and show them to him.

"You’re wet enough for what’s going to come, turn on your front.

I hesitate.

He glares at me, and frissons of anticipation spark up my spine. I turn over.

"Stay there."

I hear him move around, hear the slither of the silken rope over his palm.

Goosebumps splatter on my skin. Oh god. Ohgod, ohgod.

He’s going to use the ropes again, and I’m going to love every second of it.

What is he doing to me? To think I was a virgin less than a month ago and now I can’t wait for him to tie me up and fuck every hole.

"I can hear you thinking, and I’m going to deliver on it."

A whimper escapes me. I sound so needy, so greedy. So ready for everything he has in mind.

He lifts my foot then pushes down until my leg is fully bent at the knee, then slips the rope just below the knee and above the ankle, tying me in a frog legged shape. He does the same to the other side. Then I sense him straighten.

"What’s my name, Belle?"

"Eddie," I breathe.

"Such a good little slut, you are."

A shiver of pleasure swirls through my blood like cream poured in coffee. I begin to squeeze my thighs together, but he grips my knee and holds them apart. "Remember, you can’t alleviate your need."

"That’s ridiculous."

"That’s called a frog-tie."

"What?" I blink.

"Tying your legs the way I have."

"You mean, it helps you reach any of my orifices conveniently?" I scoff.

"Exactly." He sounds pleased. Because clearly, he got the response he wanted. Because I walked into the trap he’d set me. I firm my lips.

"Aren’t you going to ask me what I’m going to do next?"

I want to. Of course, I do, but I’m not giving him the satisfaction of doing what he expects. I stay silent and hear him chuckle. The bastard chuckles, which, coming from someone who has a hard time curving his lips in a smile, is enough to make me glare at him over my shoulder.

"Next is the box-tie," he informs me.

Like I need to know the name of whatever convoluted knot he’s going to drape over my body?

He places one knee on the bed, then the other on the other side of my body.

"Place your cheek on the bed." He gently urges me, then when I’m positioned to his satisfaction, he begins to knead my shoulders. He digs his fingers into the tensed muscles, and when they relax, a warmth seeps through my blood. "Draw a deep breath," he orders.

I do.

"Now let it out." He guides me through a series of breathing exercises, at the end of which my body seems to have turned into a puddle. I don’t even feel the knots around my legs, except for the pleasant stretch on my hamstrings. And when he pulls me up so I’m sitting on my heels, I don’t protest. Not even when he twists one arm, then the other, so they’re folded over the small of my back.

He passes the ropes around my upper arms and chest, then loops them around my wrists.

When he tightens the ropes, I realize the position causes my breasts to thrust out.

Also, my knees are spread wide enough for my clit to be bared, and because I’m balanced on my knees he can access my forbidden back hole.

The position feels natural enough that I could hold it for hours. Which is the effect he was going for.

"You should see how you look, tied up, with my ropes marking your skin, with your flesh curving around my knots. It’s the most erotic thing ever." He walks around to the other side of the bed, so he’s facing me. Then drags his gaze down my body. "Fucking hell, you’re a vision, Belle."

Color heightens his cheeks. His chest rises and falls.

And when my gaze is drawn to his crotch, I find him erect and hard, with his cock standing up against his stomach.

It also looks even bigger than earlier. Like seeing me tied up is lending an added stimulus to his arousal.

I know the way he’s watching me is definitely boosting my horniness.

Then his brow furrows. "Something's missing."