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Ignoring my comment, he places his hands on my hips and yanks me closer.
He buries his face against my neck, breathing me in. “Didn’t think you could be any sexier, but all dressed up.” He places the palm of his hand flat my becoming-quite-noticeable bump. “And carrying our baby.” He shakes his head. “Damn, woman.”
“I’m not feeling very sexy,” I whisper. It’s true. As much as I want him, I’m not feeling worthy of his admiration at the moment.
“We’ll work on that.” He unbuttons my blazer, sliding it off my shoulders and handing it to me to hang up in the closet. His fingers toy with the buttons on my blouse for a second before he untucks it from my skirt.
“Rock,” I protest. Getting naked in the foyer isn’t the best idea.
“They’re out for the night,” he says, neutralizing my concern before I even voice it.
“Oh.”
He kisses my neck and whispers in my ear, “Upstairs or downstairs?”
Heat pools in my belly. “Downstairs,” I whisper.
He growls in approval and nips my earlobe. “Take your shoes off.”
I kick off the low heels, toeing them out of the way. I’d be a liar if I didn’t admit Rock’s intense appreciation of my body and all its new curves doesn’t turn me on.
He takes my hand and I follow him to the door that leads to the basement.
It’s not really a basement. Rock made sure the space has nine-foot ceilings. To the right is an open storage room and another storage room that remains locked at all times.
The largest room, to our left also remains locked at all times.
But for different reasons.
I’m a fluttering mess of need by the time we reach our room. I want his body pressed against mine. Skin to skin. His mouth on mine.
My body shivers with anticipation as Rock keys in the code and pushes the door open.
“After you.”
Some couples enjoy punishing each other with pain. Hope and I prefer to punish each other with pleasure.
At least that’s the only explanation I can come up with for the determined look on her face and teasing swing to her hips as she makes her way to the playroom. Barefoot, blouse untucked and unbuttoned, she’s damn tempting.
After I close and lock the door behind us, she slips her blouse off and hangs it on a hook by the door, then faces me.
“Skirt too.”
She turns, showing me the zipper down the back. “Will you help me?”
As if she has to ask.
I step up behind her and kiss her shoulder before tugging the zipper down.
“If I’d known I was in for this treat, I would have worn sexier underwear.”
“You get any sexier, I’ll explode from looking at you.”
She smiles over her shoulder and wiggles out of her skirt, purposely bending over to shove her ass against my crotch. There’s a hanger on one of the hooks, just for days like these when I pounce on her at the front door and we end up down here. A small closet to our left holds some clothes and robes for both us. For afterward.
Deciding to speed things up, I flick the hooks of her bra open and she hangs it up next to her blouse.
My fingers trace the red lines left by her bra and she sighs. “I’ve already gone up two cup sizes.”
“Fucking love it. But I don’t like the marks this left.” I slide my hands around to cup her breasts. “Think I’ll come with you to work and keep you supported. Just like this.”
She laughs softly and leans back against me. “My own personal hand bra.”
“Mmhmm.” I sweep her hair out of the way and nuzzle against her neck.
She sighs and reaches back to run her fingers through my hair.
I strip the rest of her clothes off, needing to have her soft skin under my rough hands.
When I came up with the idea for this room, I wanted something simple and straightforward. No windows. Soft, recessed lighting. My gaze sweeps over the space. Four-poster king-sized bed. A leather swing suspended from the ceiling. A sex couch.
And my personal favorite, what I plan to use in about ten seconds, a hook suspended from the ceiling in the corner of the room.
Keeping on arm around her waist, I reach for the cabinet door.
“Oh my,” she breathes when I pull out the bundle of soft blue rope. Her body softens against me even more as I unwind the thick strand.
We’re on the same page, because she holds out her arms, wrists facing us.
The simple gesture amps me up even more. The trust she places in me does it every time. The excitement in the way her breathing picks up. I drop my head and trail my lips over her shoulder while I rub the rope over her chest, down the soft slope of her breasts. She gasps wen I drag the taut threads over her stiff nipples. So I do it again.
“Rock.” She sighs.
“What do you say if you want me to untie you?” I whisper in her ear.
“Too kinky.”
“Good girl.”
With the rope in one hand, I grasp her by the wrists and lead her to the couch. She only needs a gentle nudge to lie down on her back and offer her wrists again.
I wrap the doubled over rope twice, cross it, steadily working up her forearms. She bites her lip as she watches me pull the bright through the loop, knowing I’m almost finished. When I’m satisfied the rope won’t tighten down on her wrists, I help her up and over to the hook.
I’m so fucking hard it hurts.
“Rock? When did you put a mirror in here?” She angles her shoulders forward, trying to hide herself. Which is exactly why the mirror is here. It’s a damn big wall mirror too. Obviously she was too focused on us to notice it right away. I want to bring her back to that mindset.
“I always meant to put one in this spot.”
“But—”
I place my finger of her lips and she scowls.
We stare at each other for a few electrifying seconds before I hold out my hand and she gives me her bound wrists.
The hook’s up far enough that she has to stretch her body to reach, but not so high it puts her on tiptoes. There’s a swivel, so I can spin her however I want, which comes in handy.
“Beautiful.”
She averts her eyes.
I place my hands over her rounded stomach, then stroke her sides and hips. “So soft.”
With her arms above her head, she’s beautifully stretched out and exposed for me. No way to hide or cover all those generous, beautiful curves.
Tonight she’s tense. Wary as she watches us in the mirror. “Don’t move.” I have something to help her with her nerves.
I return to the cabinet and pull out a blindfold. Before returning, I dim the lights to a more seductive level. This is supposed to be fun and romantic, not a clinical inspection.
Her curvy silhouette stops me in my tracks and she turns. “What?”
“I’m admiring my wife.”
The corners of her mouth tug up, but she pulls away when I approach with the blindfold.
“Why?”
“I want you to relax and enjoy what I’m doing to you instead of worrying about what you look like.”
She doesn’t move again and I secure the fabric over her eyes.
A soft “Oh” falls from her lips when I mold myself to her back and slide my hands up and down her body. Caressing every inch before stopping to lift each breast. My fingers tease and tug on her nipples and she lets out a moan.
“That’s better.”
“It’d be even better if you were naked and I could feel your skin on mine,” she says.
I step back just enough that she can barely feel the whisper of fabric against her back as I strip off my shirt.
Eager, she turns and tries to press against me, but I move just out of reach.
A soft whine from her lips as she strains, but can’t quite touch me.
