He sucked down the back of her neck. His weight crushed her to the bed until he slid to the side. One quick move and she was flipped over. Arms still overhead and bound, legs free, and knees bent. He had to give her more.

The end of a rope tickled her stomach. Electricity sprouted across her skin. Oh, how’d I forget so fast about the other ties? Her sensitive flesh went on red alert, and Brock scratched the cut end from her collarbone, down the valley between her breasts, over her clit, then made fast work of securing a ligature around her ankle. Straightening her leg, he tied her ankle to a bedpost. The other leg didn’t receive the same finesse. It was bound and tied in a second.

She couldn’t see him, but she could sense him. Feel his gaze and knew it was centered on her, open to him.

“Beautiful.” He walked along the side of the bed, flipping additional ropes in his hand. Each slap made her shiver. He leaned over to kiss her lips then tied her already-bound wrists directly above her to the headboard.

Arms together, legs spread, and blindfolded. Her body couldn’t wait for whatever came next.

A small spoonful of ice cream landed on her nipple. His tongue followed its path as it melted and slid to her breastbone. His fingers tweaked her other nipple as he busied his mouth. With each pinch and tug, her body jerked. Her pussy clenched. “I have to touch you.”

She wanted to. Needed to. Her fingers would latch onto him, drawing him closer. Ending this torture.

“You will. But I’m not done yet.”

Ice cream dropped onto her belly button. His lips encircled it, his tongue lashing into the delve of her stomach, while his fingers brought her to the brink of agony. One hand palmed her breast, massaging and tugging. The other hand curved over her mound, two fingers finally pressing in.

“Yes.” It was all she could manage. “More.”

Incoherent thoughts. One-word pleas. Her legs struggled against their bindings. The rope scratched into her flesh, sending lightning strikes screaming up her legs. His fingers began to fuck her, in and out, roughly pushing her toward a climax she was dying for.

Sarah’s back arched. His hands worked in tandem. Stronger. Harsher. Everything she wanted. And then his cold lips kissed her clitoris, and she lost her mind. Her body thrashed, and she cried for her husband.

“Come for me.” It was a command. Its rumbles pulsed against her intimate flesh. He had no intention of letting her fall away from this. His eagerness, his determination made her love him all the more.

Her climax sealed her eyes shut behind the blindfold. Fireworks exploded, rocketing, radiating to every tied-up limb of her body. Her legs quaked. Her fingers interlaced, locking into a struggling, surviving clutch.