The sensation is as delicious as the man, and I writhe against his touch, wanting more, so much more. And Damien, thank god, delivers.

With agonizing slowness, he kisses his way down my leg, paying particular attention to the soft skin behind my knee. My muscles are tight, straining for him, and yet I can do nothing but withstand the storm of his touches.

When he reaches my ankle and undoes the bond, I have to bite back a protest. I want the freedom to move, yes, but there is no denying the pleasure of being at Damien’s mercy.

I hear his soft laugh and realize that he knows exactly what I’m thinking. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m not even close to done with you.”

He releases my other ankle, then eases onto the bed so that he is between my legs. I am spread wide open for him, and though he is my husband—though he has seen me this intimately countless times—I cannot help the heat of a blush that spreads over me.

“Beautiful,” Damien murmurs as he lifts my legs to his shoulders. He tries to tug me closer, but I am immobile thanks to the bonds on my arms, and so he leans in, driving me crazy when he gently blows on my clit, making me gasp and squirm and then cry out as his mouth closes over my sex and his tongue sets my senses on fire.

I arch up, because it is too much, but he refuses to relent. He sucks and laves, his expert tongue teasing and tasting, pushing me higher and higher until I am so close that I can almost taste the sweetness of the coming explosion, and I long for it, pushing toward it, wanting and craving it.

And then he stops—and that swirling disk of pleasure that has been hurtling toward me fizzles, dissolving in front of me in the dark abyss of lost pleasure.

“Damien.” His name is a curse, a protest, but my words neither wound nor move him.

“Soon,” he says calmly. “Anticipation, remember?”

“Bastard,” I tease, but the word catches in my throat as he starts to lower me so that my rear is on his thighs and his fingertip skims lightly over my sex.

“I haven’t fucked you like this,” he says. “You on your back, legs up, helpless. Me on my knees, holding you close, slamming deep inside you. Tell me, sweetheart, would you like that?”

I say nothing—his finger is wreaking too much havoc with my senses to let me lasso the power of speech—but my answer is in my body, and Damien well knows it. With a small chuckle, he leans sideways and opens one of the small drawers that line the cabin-side of the bed.

He reaches in and pulls out a familiar bag. It takes me a second to recognize the gift that my best friend, Jamie, and my other girlfriends presented me at my bachelorette party.

“Damien! Oh my god.”

“A goodie bag of sex toys seemed like something we should take on our honeymoon.”

We’ve not had the chance to play with the contents, and now he peers inside and pulls out a bullet-style vibrator and some lube. Considering how wet I am, the lube is hardly necessary. Unless …

“Damien …”

“Shhh. You’re mine, remember. To have. To fuck. To do with what I will. Isn’t that why you greeted me the way you did, laid out and bound for my enjoyment?”

I lick my lips. The man does have a point.

He is kneeling on the bed, and my legs are spread open on either side of him. Now he turns on the bullet and it softly vibrates in his hand. He palms it, then slides it slowly along my inner thighs. The sensation is incredible, all the more so when he brings it to my sex, teasing near but not actually stroking my clit.

Pleasure swirls around me, lifting me higher and higher as Damien teases me with the bullet until, yes, I’m literally begging to be fucked.

“Every way,” he says. “All the way.”

I nod. “Yes. Oh, god, yes.”

“Legs up,” he says, then lifts my hips and guides himself inside me. I’ve not been in this position with him, and as he thrusts into me, his eyes looking into mine, I have to admit I like it. I am on my back, my ass rubbing his thighs, the contact on my clit as he enters taking me higher and higher with each powerful thrust.

“Do you want more?” Damien’s voice is low and sensual and rolls over me like a touch.

“I want everything.”

I hear the buzz of the vibrator, then feel the cool gel on his fingertips as he readies my ass. I bite my lower lip in anticipation, forcing myself to relax as he inserts the bullet. I sigh with pleasure from the sensation of being completely filled by both Damien and this toy, and also from the exquisite tingle of the vibrations dancing inside me, growing stronger with each of Damien’s thrusts inside me.

“Dear god,” he says, and the deep groan that lights his voice lets me know that he can feel it, too.

The sensation builds, growing so wild and burning so hot that I am not entirely sure if it is pleasure or pain. All I know is that it lifts me. That it takes me. And that it is not just this jet that is making me soar. It is the man inside me.

Harder and harder he thrusts, and I meet each motion, drawing him in, deeper and deeper. I want to get lost in him. Already I do not know where I end and he begins. All I know is pleasure. All I know is Damien.

Damien, who sets the world spinning wild around me.

Damien, who commands the earth, the stars, the universe, and me.

Damien, who has brought me to the brink.

“Damien,” I cry as everything that I am shifts and tilts and bursts in a wild cacophony of light and sensation that wash over me with such violence and joy it is a wonder that I can survive.

And yet I do, and it is Damien who pulls me back. Whose soft touch strokes me. Whose gentle kisses bring me down. Who holds me close and keeps me safe. “Damien,” I murmur, as the softness pulls me under and I succumb to the warm, languid pull of exhaustion. I am his, I think. I am loved.

Chapter 6

When I come back to myself, Damien cleans me up and frees my arms, and I stretch, reveling in the sensation of once again having the use of all my limbs. The bed is small, but I like it. I curl up behind him, my face snuggled up against his shoulder and my legs twined with his. I am floating somewhere in that state between waking and dreams, and idly wondering if it is really necessary to ever move again. At the moment, I think I could stay like this forever, drifting through the sky with the man I love.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

“For what?” His voice is soft, too, and I think that if I close my eyes and let go, I will find him right next to me in that dream world.

“For loving me.”

He is silent for a moment, then rolls over so that we are facing each other. Gently, he brushes a stray lock of hair away from my eyes. “I’ve seen what’s in your heart,” he says. “How could I help but love you?”