And when Sarah had pushed herself, made herself write down everything she really wanted if they moved forward on their marriage reboot, the same little voices had given her a laundry list of feasts and exploits that she secretly dared to fantasize about but never shared.

Until today.

Now, Sarah and the sultry little voices in her head were in sync, and caveat one to staying married was to see if she could be all she wanted to be.

Brock possessed a hardcore edge to him. Brooding and dangerous. When he came home from Titan, she saw remnants of his darker side. She wanted to tap into that part of him. Now. Hormones spiked through her, traveling from her panted breaths to her womb.

She fisted his shirt tighter and pulled again. “I don’t want easy.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” His teeth were clenched, and he lumbered over her, closing the car door behind him.

Her thighs pushed wide open, her shorts had ridden up, pinching and pressing. The momentary pain did nothing but steel her breath, bait her for his touch. She needed this and flexed against him, trying to both alleviate and exacerbate the torturous swirls deep inside.

Her hands reached between them, found his belt clasp as he popped the button on her shorts, ratcheting her excitement up even more. They were on a mad dash. It was uncontrollable and incredible. His hands ripped up her silk shirt, pushing past the barrier of her lace bra. Never did she think they’d have sex in a car minutes after landing. But who cared? He was her husband.

Oh God. Brock’s fingers cupped her breast. Massaging. Squeezing almost painfully tight. Pleasure and pain were what she craved. His fingers found her erect nipple and grazed over the tip. He teased and toyed while he loomed over her, rubbing his impressive length against her on the cramped confines of the back seat.

The man was huge. Smooth, beautiful steel. Perfect shaft. Perfect crown. He took her breath away after years of sucking, screwing, and dreaming about him.

He abandoned her nipple, snatching the fabric of her bra cups and dragging it below her breasts. Freed of their constraint, they reached for him and his head dipped. His mouth just as aggressive as his hand had been. He lavished her other mound. Biting, tormenting. Scratching his teeth over the fleshy weight until he found its center and drew her deep into his mouth.

Her body clenched. Senses roared to life, a tornado of climax building within her, traveling from nipple to clit. A sudden ambush of his fingers pushed past the lace of her thong and delved into her deeply. A welcome, violent intrusion.

“Yes,” fell from her lips. Her legs spread wider as he pumped his hand. His mouth abused her tit until she catapulted, screaming, moaning, crying in ecstasy.