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“Give me your hands,” I demand, slipping the tie off my neck slowly.
My wife squirms on the bed, rubbing her legs together as she watches my every move. With my tie in my hand, I stalk toward her. She holds out her palms to me.
I can’t help but take her left hand in mine. I turn it over and kiss the spot where my name is permanently emblazoned on her finger. It’s a reminder, a promise, that even when we’re like this, dirty and wild, my heart beats only for her. The sight of the dark ink with my name on her skin settles me in a way nothing else ever could.
With her wrists in hand, I tie them tightly together. Then I push her back against the bed and guide her arms above her head. “Now make me a promise, baby.”
Cat’s face is flushed pink. Her lashes flutter and her breaths come out quickly. “Anything.”
The word echoes softly between us.
Anything.
It’s the reason I’m confident that nothing we could do with another person would ever change what we have. Her confidence in us. Her complete submission, when necessary, is all the proof I need.
“You don’t stifle a single fucking moan. I want everyone on this plane to know who you belong to.”
Her wicked smile betrays yet another one of my wife’s kinks.
“Done.”
I tease the buttons of her dress, slowly undressing her while she’s unable to do anything but watch. As her soft skin peeks through, I kiss down her collarbone and watch as goose bumps dust across her chest. My tongue follows the trail as I open the navy fabric until I reach the pink lace of her panties. Below me, my wife lies still, the way her chest and her taut stomach heave the only indication that she’s the least bit nervous. She giggles when I press another kiss to her pubic bone and blow hot air against her skin.
“Fuck,” she hisses when I slide my tongue across her soft skin, so close to where she wants me but not quite there yet.
“I’ve never been jealous of anyone,” I say as I slide her panties down. Then I tilt my chin and wait for her to meet my gaze. “Until I watched someone else touch you and you told me I couldn’t.”
“Jay,” she murmurs softly, squeezing her hands into fists. She loves to touch me, loves to run her fingers through my hair. It’s her way of comforting me, and I’ve taken that from her because I want her to hear my every word.
“Hear me out,” I murmur against her skin as I push her legs wide and settle in my place. “I don’t feel that way anymore. Because now I know that if someone else did touch you, it’d only be because I said they could. Right?”
Her whiskey eyes flare. “What?”
I lick up her slit and moan as her sweet taste coats my tongue. My hair falls into my eyes, and I don’t bother pushing it out of the way as I look back at her. “I know you like games, Catherine. Our marriage doesn’t have to mean the end of them so long as you remember one thing.”
“And what’s that?” she whispers.
“The games you play are with me, wife.Isay who can touch you.” I slide my tongue between her lips and spread her wide with two fingers. “Isay when you come.”
She grows wetter at my words. Rolling two fingers slowly over her clit, I wait for her response. When she doesn’t provide it, I squeeze.
In response, all I get is a hiss.
“Say it.”
“Say what?” she gasps, already delirious.
I suck on her clit, and her hips buck up as she cries out loudly, just like she promised she would.
“Tell me who you are.”
“Catherine Hanson,” she pants out between heavy breaths.
“And who controls all your orgasms?”
“My husband.”
“Even who gives them,” I say as I slip two fingers inside her.
