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I need to fuck her.
I need to be the center of her universe.
"Tomorrow," I say. "We'll do the scene tomorrow."
She pouts.
"Would you rather we not do it?"
"You wouldn't."
"Try me."
Her eyes fill with fire. Defiance. Need.
The exact combination that makes my cock stir. "Tomorrow. Understand?"
She nods.
"Good girl."
Her lips part with a sigh. Her chest heaves with her inhale.
It's her favorite pet name. The one that makes her pant the fastest.
It's cruel to drop it if I'm not going to fuck her. But she was right. I am mean.
And this is the best kind of torture.
"I'm not going to warn you," I say.
"You'll surprise me."
"Yes."
Her flush deepens. "Overpower me?"
"If I tell you, it's not a surprise."
"Yes, but I… I want to know what you expect from me."
"To use your safe word if it's too much."
"That's all?"
No. It's much more complicated, but it's my job to worry about that. "I might gag you."
"Oh."
"If I do, and it's too much, hum. Pick something now. So I'll know to recognize it."
"Hum. Okay." She presses her lips together. Looks off in the distance. Drifting into the Indigo I haven't seen in years—the one lost in song.
She hums a single tone.
Shapes it into the melody of When Doves Cry.
It's bizarre, my fiancée in the middle of the living room, in only a harness, humming Prince.
Bizarre and perfect.
"Is there anything else I need to know?" She places her hand on my chest.
"No." There's plenty she wants to know, but she needs the surprise.
"Are we done… preparing."
"Are you going to ask me to fuck you?"
"Maybe." Her lips curl into a shy smile. "Will it help? If I get on my knees and beg?"
"No."
"Maybe I should do it anyway."
"Maybe."
She stares back at me, daring me to expand. When I don't, she drops to her knees and presses her palms together. "Please, Ty, please fuck me."
My body whines. It's without reservations. "Why?"
"Because I'm your fiancée. And you're the kind of man who will satisfy his wife."
Wife. It steals my thoughts.
My head is a fucked-up mess.
This is the only thing that makes sense.
The only place where we make sense.
Marrying for convenience and fantastic sex. Those are better reasons than most.
"Please." She runs her fingertips over my belt. "If you won't fuck me, then let me suck you off."
"Did that work last time?"
"No. But I wasn't here. To do this." She hooks two fingers in my belt loop. "It might work better with the demonstration."
Fuck, she's adorable. It's wrong how adorable she is asking to suck my cock.
I offer her my hand.
She looks up at me with incredulity in her eyes.
"Trust me."
"Trust you?"
"Have I ever let you down here?"
"No. Not here."
"So trust me," I say.
She takes my hand.
I pull her to her feet. Then I wrap my arms around her waist. Lift her.
She squeals as I throw her over my shoulder. "Ty." She laughs. "You're crazy."
"I am." I carry her to the bedroom. Lay her on the bed.
She looks up at me with a hazy smile as I attach the under-the-bed restraints to the hook between her breasts.
Then I pry her legs apart, and her smile fades into a groan.
She wants roughness. Maybe I should give it to her. Even if she's had far too much to drink.
But I want this.
I climb between her legs. Bring my mouth to her cunt. Work her until she's groaning my name.
Until she comes on my face.
I pin her thighs to the bed, holding her in place as I work her through her orgasm.
Then another.
Her legs go slack. Her entire body releases.
She sinks into the bed. Looks up at me with those same hazy eyes. Satisfied, yet still in need.
She's so fucking beautiful like this.
I strip out of my suit. Place my body over hers.
She groans as I fill her with steady thrusts.
I'm in control. She's bound. But it's not rough or hard or fast.
It's every molecule of her body against every molecule of mine.
As soft and sweet as I ever get.
The contrast she needs for tomorrow.
The closeness I need right now.
Not quite love.
But as close as I'll ever get.
In the morning, we dress. I fix breakfast and tea. Insist we take a walk.
It's a beautiful day. Warm and bright, with enough breeze the air is cool.
But I'm still burning up.
I watch her closely, waiting for her to forget our plan.
Waiting for her to lose herself in the moment, so I can surprise her.
She smiles as she marvels at the deep blue water. I won't do it here. She knows that. Knows she can relax.
So I wait until we're home.
I tell her I need to take a call.
She looks at me incredulously, but when I check on her ten minutes later, she's standing in front of the stereo, lost in Amy Winehouse's throaty vocals.
She closes her eyes.
And then she sings. Softly at first.
Then louder, loud enough the melody makes it into my ears. Melts my heart.
