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“No. Eyes to the ceiling,” he instructs. I hear the opening of a drawer. “In fact, I think I want you blindfolded.” He looms over the bed, a black scrap of silk in his hands.Wait, he keeps that in his drawer?Jesus. “Do you trust me?” he asks.

And I know he’s asking permission.

“Yes.” The word slips out before I can gather my thoughts. It’s true though. I do trust him.

It takes him moments to tie the silk around my eyes. I blink, trying to adjust to the darkness. His hands trail over my cheeks, my jaw, my lips.

“So beautiful,” he murmurs. “My wife.”

His rough fingertip trails down my neck, over my breast, my pebbled nipple, before he reaches my stomach. “One day, my baby will be in here.”

My eyes widen, not that he can tell. He’s just playing, I tell myself. Of course I’m not going to have his baby. This isn’t areal marriage. But god, the way he says it makes my whole body clench.

“Gotta have sex with me first,” I murmur.

“Maybe I should gag you too.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

He leans down and presses his mouth against my hip. “I can think of other ways to keep you quiet.”

His tongue circles against my skin, leaving a trail of fire I’m not sure the ocean could extinguish. Then he kisses his way down, along my hipbone, my thigh, before he pushes my legs open even more and kisses methere.

“Oh god,” I mutter, reaching down to run my fingers through his silky hair. If this is punishment, I want life without parole.

“Arms up,” he instructs. I immediately do as he asks. “Good girl,” he murmurs. And dammit, I clench.

“You come when I tell you. You don’t stop, you don’t push me away. Understood?”

“Yes.”

The word is barely out of my mouth before he licks hard against me. Finding my clit, sucking it, teasing it. I’m already so turned on, so sensitive to his touch. To the way his face scrapes against my inner thighs, the way his tongue flickers hard and soft until I’m on fire.

“West!” I arch my back off the bed, already so close.

But his big hands pin me to the mattress. “Be still,” he instructs, then he goes back to his work, his mouth relentless, his fingers deft as he pushes two inside of me, my body fluttering, clenching.

“I’m going to?—”

“No.” He pulls his mouth away, and I let out a frustrated groan. He laughs, low and dangerous.

“Please,” I whisper, my hips lifting off the bed, seeking his mouth. Seeking friction. “Baby, please. I’m sorry…”

“Please what?” he growls.

“Please let me come.”

He hums, low and thoughtful, like he’s considering it. I imagine his face, somewhere between turned on and amused. He’s enjoying this. I can feel it in his lips, in his tongue, in the way his fingers are curled inside of me.

He likes making me squirm. And I’m taking my punishment like a champ.

“You don’t set the rules, sweetheart,” he tells me. “That’s not how this works.”

“I know,” I breathe.

“Then tell me. Who’s in charge here?”

“You are.”