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CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Becca

Feeling like a million bucks in my new skin, I drive the golf cart back to the villa from the spa. The setting sun glows in all my favorite colors on the horizon. Pink. Orange. Purple and a deep blue at the top. When I wind through the pathway, the background changes from different angles.

Giddiness sneaks up my core at the thought of John’s teasing promises today. Spanking me. Tying me up. I don’t know if I’ll like it but for the first time in a long time, I’m free to do what I want and explore.

John was going with the guys to watch Caleb’s football game that his grandpa, Brooke’s dad is live streaming, so I’ll have enough time to put on something sexy and show John that I want whatever he’s willing to teach me.

I tap the keycard at the front entrance, and when I turn, I see an incandescent glow creeping into the hallway.

What in the world? Then I realize the shutters are probably open, and the sunset is filtering into the room.

But when I take a few more strides and peek around the corner, the room is transformed with candlelight.

Flickers of golden light adorn every corner of the room, casting shadows that dance and bounce off the walls.

“Hey,” John says as he pushes off the bed in dress pants and a tight-fitting button down. Holy moly, he’s a beautiful, masculine man.

Walking around the bed, he hands me a glass of red wine. “If you’re up to it, I’m going to make love to you tonight.” John’s voice drifts through the romantic setting—low and rough with a slight crackling around the edges, flooding me with heat and making my pulse stutter with anticipation.

With both hands, he caresses my jaws and places a gentle kiss.

“Did you do this? It’s incredible.”

“I had a little help from the girls, and the concierge had the candles delivered. This is what you deserve, Becca. Someone who makes you feel special. Not just on important days but every day.”

He sets the wine glass on the console and slips my sheer coverup from my shoulders. “So beautiful.”

I untuck his shirt, furiously popping the buttons from his shirt. He has enough money to buy another one. “Slow down, babe. We’ve got all night, and I want my lips to touch every inch of you.”

“I don’t know if I can. This is all I’ve thought about today.”

As I rake his shirt from his shoulders, my lips find his sternum, and my hands roam over his washboard abs. Dennis had none of this.

My hands slide around to his back, and my breath hitches as the electricity hisses between us. There’s a glint of excitement in the way his eyes hold mine like he can feel my heart knocking against my ribs.

His steady, warm hands and calloused fingers create a trail of hunger—every inch of me buzzing with need.

It seems to take forever for John’s lips to meet mine and when they do, the walls around us fall away.

There’s nothing hasty or hurried about the way he kisses me.

It’s as if he’s memorizing the shape, the depth, and the softness of my lips.

All I can think of is that only John has kissed me in this way.

So much desire. So greedy. Wanting all of me.

I can’t recall another man who took his time kissing me, unraveling me at a turtle’s pace and building the desire, causing my stomach to coil.

His tongue gently sweeps between my plump flesh.

My mouth opens, and his breath mingles with mine.

We delve deeper, and every ounce of tension in my body melts away.

Heat tugs at my center, and I get lost in the leisurely rhythm of his mouth moving against mine.

He pulls the string to my bathing suit and when it hits my skin, a shiver runs through me.

Not from the healing sunburn but from his hooded eyes and growing erection pressing against me.

He spins me around, releasing the string around the middle of my back and slides his fingers between my bikini and my skin, pulling off my bottoms. Pressing his lips to the sensitive area behind my knees, my head falls back.

Then his tongue, wet and warm, skims over my thigh to the small of my back, while his hands glide up my waist, holding me like I’m a rare treasure.

Once his fingers find my bundle of nerves, I hum in appreciation. “Oh, yes, yes.”

I feel his lips smiling as he nibbles on my neck.

Lazy circles. Sliding through my folds. If John said we were in heaven, I would believe it. It can’t get much better than this. A soft glow from the candles. A perfect man. And with every lingering touch, a thousand quiet promises.

I reach one arm back over his neck and as I buck against his hand, my body shivers then stiffens as my orgasm hits me.

“This is what I want. For you to shatter from my touch,” John says as his deep timbre voice vibrates against my skin. “Every damn day.”

When my body relaxes, I lazily turn to face him. I smile with my eyes closed, not because I’m still caught in the post-orgasm haze. With uneven breaths, I say, “Daily would be good.”

I unbuckle his belt and slide it from the loops. It clangs against the hardwood floor, and his pants and boxer briefs follow. He lifts me up, and I wrap my legs around his waist. The mattress sinks when he puts his knee on it, laying me on my back.

For a moment, we just stare. He hesitates before he kisses me.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

His voice is soft and low. “Nothing. I… I love you, Becca Shearer. I’ve always loved you.”

He doesn’t give me a chance to return the sentiment, before kissing me with such desire, my synapses catch fire, and I’m inundated with foreign sensations.

Each touch amplifies my desire. With his full weight on me, he slides his erection inside me, and my back arches with such force, it lifts us both.

“I love the way your body sucks me in… clenching my cock, covering it in your juices.”

He rocks sensually, and we make love missionary style, building up to an epic explosion. My eyes pinch closed as bright stars appear and disappear beneath my lids.

John releases a loud groan as he finishes inside me, collapsing. Our bodies are covered in sweat. He lifts up on his elbows, and when I finally open my eyes, he’s focused on my hair.

Sated, I say, “I never knew sex could be this good.”

“Good?” He raises an eyebrow.

“There’s my cocky hockey star,” I tease. “Maybe you need to sink into the net again.”

“Yeah?”

“Please.”

“You Southern girls are so polite, saying please.”

We swallow a laugh as I already feel his dick growing and getting heavy against my thigh. Suddenly, he hops up and gathers his tan leather belt from the floor.

My eyes widen as I shoot up to a sitting position. “Umm… I don’t think I can get spanked today. My sunburn.” I thought I wanted to be spanked but now, I’m not so sure .

“I’m not spanking you with a belt. That’s probably abuse, Ms. Attorney.”

“Not if it’s consensual. But you would have to prove it,” I say as he crawls back on the bed, his erection sticking straight out, begging to be inside me again.

He then wraps the belt around my wrists, tightening the closure. My pulse races as I wonder what he has in mind. I don’t know if I’m up for this. Dennis and I never explored. He was happy with the missionary position and occasionally me on top.

John must see the questions in my eyes because he says, “Don’t worry. If you want to stop, just say so.”

He kisses his way from the sensitive skin on my wrists to the sensitive area between my legs. And every time I try to bring my hand down to push through his hair, I’m impeded by the belt being tied to the headboard. I buck and lift my body, trying to grind on John’s face.

“Eager?”

“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 center glistening 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 comfort someone 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.”

“You love me?”

My head moves up and down vigorously. “I do. But…”

“No buts! You love me, and I love you. The rest is brown noise, white noise, or whatever,” he says, laughing with an enormous, beautiful smile.

“The vacation is half over. We have to talk about the next steps.”

“Becca, my sweet thing, I’m not letting you overthink this.

That Becca married an accountant she didn’t truly love.

She loved the idea of him. That Becca was hiding from her past. This Becca trusted me with her pain and can still be organized.

Darlin’, for the rest of this vacation, we’re going to do what we want, when we want, and how we want. We’ll figure the rest out.”

“We live ten hours apart. How will we...”

“Just know that we will.” He kisses me and carries me to the bathroom where he shows me exactly how he feels.

Again.