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“I’m going to tie your hands behind your back. If you don’t like something, just tell me, yeah?”

I don’t say anything immediately. Instead, I look over my shoulder and watch as he picks up his belt from where he placed it at the side of the bed. I sink my teeth into my bottom lip, my gaze on the leather strap.

“Okay,” I exhale.

My nipples harden as goose bumps break out over every inch of my skin. I shift my hands behind my back, resting them against the crack of my ass, then turn my head and face forward.

Closing my eyes, I inhale a deep breath, holding it for a moment before I let it out slowly as I feel the cool leather wrap around my wrists. The belt tightens, and then I feel Brock’s hands on my shoulders before they gently dance down my arms to the belt. He tugs on it, testing it.

“Do you trust me, baby?” he asks.

I like that he calls me baby. I like babe, too, but the way he says baby, all soft and sweet, does something to me. My lower belly dips as I press my thighs together. I’m tender and ready for him—aching for him.

“I do, Brock,” I breathe.

He hums, then he leans over me, touching his lips to the spot between my shoulder and my neck. His lips brush there, and a new wave of goose bumps breaks out over my entire body. His palm presses against the center of my back.

“Bend, baby.”

The pressure he applies is all I need. I bend over, my legs already spread wide, my knees pressing into the mattress as I wait for what is coming next. I want him inside me. I breathe heavily, my chest rising and falling sharply as I try not to pass out. I’m close. The anticipation is almost too much.

My chest presses against the sheets, my head turns to the side, and my cheek presses against them as well. Brock’s fingers curl around the back of my thigh, then he slowly slides it up to my ass, grabbing a handful.

There’s a lot more there than I would prefer, but if he minds, he doesn’t say anything. He releases my ass, then he reaches back, and his palm lands on my cheek. My skin moves, probably jiggling, but again, I don’t think he cares.

Then I feel his length press against my center. He doesn’t thrust his hips or sink inside me, no matter how badly I want him to. And I do—desperately. Then, before I realize what’s happening, the entire lower half of my body is pulled backward, and he fills me in one swift move.

My gasp fills the room. It’s louder than anything I’ve ever released before. My eyes are wide, my lips parted, and then, as if the rubber band has broken, he loses whatever control he was keeping a grasp on.

He holds on to the belt at my wrists, keeping my arms straight behind me. His hips thrust forward at the same time he pulls me back with his grip on the belt. He lets out a grunt with each thrust, and then he moans.

Closing my eyes, I force my body to relax as he moves. His noises are my undoing. I begin to climb higher and higher with each thrust, and each tug of my body backward to meet his.

“Play with yourself,” he growls. “I want to feel you come around me.”

I can’t even respond. No words come out, not that they could with the position I’m in. And I wouldn’t want to be in any other position. He fucks me. It’s hard and fast. It’s not making love. It’s definitely fucking, and I’ve been craving it since I saw him outside that pool.

I’m not sure how long he moves behind me, the sound of slapping skin, the way his hips slam into mine. It’s almost too much. So when I slip my hand beneath my body, when two fingers find my clit and I begin to draw circles there, I know I won’t last long.

I’m not sure I’ve ever come this much, even that week of bliss that we shared where we were practically locked away in my hotel room. This tops that. Clearly, my man likes a wedding, or maybe he just likes the fact that he married me.

At least that’s what I hope.

My orgasm doesn’t just build. It causes me to shatter. I cry out, my fingers still moving as the rest of my body is completely held hostage by him, unable to move, almost unable to do anything other than breathe.

My thighs tremble, and then he slams into me three more times before he stills. I feel his orgasm as his cock pulses, and he roars with his release. My body is stretched taut, pulled tight, and then he releases me. He folds over my back, his lips touching the side of my neck.

“My wife,” he rasps as he continues to move slowly inside me.

He releases me from my bonds and then gathers me into his arms, pulling me against his side as he lies down on the bed. I feel his lips touch the top of my head as his arms wrap around me. My cheek rests against his chest, my eyes sliding closed as I press my worn-out naked body against his.

“My husband,” I exhale.

“Damn fucking right.”

CHAPTER

FIFTY-SIX