Chapter 1
Reagan
I strain my wrists against the tension of the nylon rope binding them together. They don’t move at all, which is no surprise.
My husband learned how to tie knots in the military, and he learned well. I think the only thing he’s more expert in is my body. His large hand is reminding me of that now as he trails it up my inner thigh, leaving a scorching ache in its wake.
“Miss me, Reagan?” His deep voice is raspy with desire.
He knows damn well I missed him, but this is our new game. And damned if it doesn’t make me hotter than anything ever has before.
“Yes.” It’s more of a whimper than a word.
I don’t whimper. At least, I didn’t until I married Jude Titan. He brings things out of me, though, and he glories in doing it.
“Hmm.” He shakes his head and runs his palm back down my thigh, making me whine with disappointment. “I hardly even heard you. You must not have missed me much.”
“I did.” My eyes widen as I blurt it out. “I missed you so fucking much, Jude. Touch me.”
A smile quirks at the corner of his lips. “You want me to touch you?”
“Jude…” Annoyance tinges my voice.
Before he walked in the door a few minutes ago, he’d been gone for nearly three weeks on a work trip. Now that he’s running for governor, we don’t get as much time for anything anymore. Even sex.
“Taking a tone with me?” He arches a brow with amusement. “I told you to expect this. Remember when you sent me that photo of your fingers in your pussy last week?”
I try not to smile, but it’s so hard. He’d told me he was about to walk into a big fundraising dinner meeting over the phone, and I’d sent him the photo as soon as we hung up. He’d sent a growly response about having a hard-on and getting back at me.
And my body had heated in response to those words. Our games are torture for me, but it’s a delicious torture I crave.
“I remember,” I manage, sucking in a breath as his fingertips graze over my bare rib cage.
He’d told me to be naked when he walked in the door, and I had been—and spread eagled on our bed to boot. But after letting his dark gaze sweep me up and down as he stepped out of his shoes and took off his tie, he’d told me to get up.
Moving painfully slowly, he’d taken the neatly wound red nylon ropes from a dresser drawer and drawn his gaze up and down me yet again, his charcoal dress pants tented with his erection.
I’d expected a fast, hard fuck. My body had been ready for that. But he’d left me, nipples hard and pussy wet, making me stand facing him in front of a chest of drawers, where he’d made me spread my feet apart so he could bind each of my ankles to a leg of the dark bureau.
And now I stand here, legs open, nipples still hard and pussy still very wet, as he taunts me.
“I’m at a disadvantage, babe,” he says in a low tone, unbuttoning the top button of his white dress shirt. His eyes are locked on mine as he slowly moves to the second one. “The other men I travel with can look at the female lobbyists with legs for days. They can spend the night with the women we meet at events who throw themselves at us. But me…” He shakes his head slightly as he reaches the fifth button of his shirt.
I swallow hard, my body practically throbbing with awareness of him. He’s several feet away, but I caught a note of his body wash when he was tying me up, and I can still smell it. My body knows that scent—it means desire so powerful I have no choice but to give in.
The corners of his lips quirk up a little. He knows what he’s doing to me right now.
“I can’t do any of that,” he continues in that low, confident tone I fell in love with when he was my opponent for the Senate seat he now holds. “Because I know I already have the sexiest, smartest, most breathtaking woman waiting for me at home. Other women don’t compare. Only you can satisfy me, Reagan. Only my wife.”
I lick my lips and strain against the rope on my wrists again, to no avail. My hands are staying bound at the small of my back until Jude decides otherwise.
“That’s right,” I say, pushing my chest out slightly. “So get over here and let me do it. Untie me so we can fuck.”
“Yeah?” His smile slides away, and his eyes darken with hunger. “That does sound good right now. I could just pick you up and slide you up and down on my dick until I come inside that hot little pussy.”
My lips part. “Yes. Let’s do that.” I unconsciously tug at the rope around my wrists.
He tosses his shirt onto our king-sized four-poster bed, reaching for the bottom of his white undershirt and tugging it up and over his head.
Even after five years of marriage, he still makes my heart race. My gaze wanders across the lines of muscle and dark swirls of ink. That broad, powerful chest is mine. Only I get to feel the dips and curves he works so hard for in the weight room. And God, do I want to feel them now.
“Nah.” His teasing smile returns. “I’m enjoying this too much.”
“Asshole,” I mutter.
“What was that?” His hands freeze over his belt buckle.
“I said you’re an asshole.” I glare at him. “It’s been three weeks, Jude. I’m dying here. You told me not to masturbate, and I haven’t. But you’ve probably been jerking it every night.”
Jude’s expression turns serious. “Not even once, babe. I promised you, and I always keep my promises.”
I believe him. He’s about to poke a hole through his pants with his hard-on. He just has more patience than I do.
“If I’m an asshole, maybe I should just go catch some news on TV and leave you here to think about things for a bit.” He steps close enough to me that I can feel the heat of his big, powerful body.
“No.” My whimper is back. “I’m…sorry I called you an asshole.”
He steps back and returns his hands to the belt buckle, moving painfully slowly.
“You’re the most headstrong woman I’ve ever known.” The belt buckle clanks as he unfastens it. “It’s one of the things I love most about you. But in here, I make the rules, don’t I?”
“Yes.” It’s not even hard for me to admit it. I am stubborn as hell everywhere else, but in the bedroom, he owns me.
“Good girl.” His pants come down, followed by his boxers, and finally I get a look at the rock-hard cock I’ve been fantasizing about.
“You look hungry, Reagan.” He gives me a look of mock confusion. “You want me to go make you a sandwich or something?”
“Fuck you,” I mumble.
He grins and sits down on the end of our bed, so we’re face-to-face but several feet apart.
“Maybe,” he says, wrapping a large palm around his erection. “Or maybe I’ll just get myself off while you watch.”
His groan is long and deep as he strokes up and down his dick two times. My heart hammers and my core floods with heat as I watch him.
“No. Jude…no.”
“I haven’t touched it once other than when I took a piss since I left here,” he says. “I promised you I’d wait till I got back, and…I’m back, right?”
My chest rises and falls as I breathe hard from the sight of him touching what’s mine. Doing what I’ve been dying to do since the first night he was gone.
“What can I do?” My voice is high and desperate. “I’ll do anything, Jude, just please stop. Please.”
His smile is almost feral as he takes his hand away and stands up. “That’s what I like to hear. Complete compliance from my little tiger.”
He knows I hate it when he calls me that, but damned if letting it pass without muttering an objection doesn’t turn me on. I’m done playing. I need to get off.
“I missed you so much,” he says, closing the distance between us and bending to kiss me.
He’s slow and tender, his lips and tongue taking their time getting reacquainted with mine. As soon as he pulls away, I moan with disappointment.
“I missed you too.”
“I can tell you were a good girl while I was gone.” He sets a palm on my inner thigh, and I suck in a breath. “Going to bed with a wet pussy every night because I told you to.”
“Yes,” I breathe. “I did.”
He traces his fingers up my thigh, and when he slides two of them inside me, I let out a cry of relief and pleasure.
“Fuck, baby,” he mutters. “Look how wet you are. You need this, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
He kisses my neck, his lips finding the spot beneath my ear that drives me wild. Jude is the only man who has ever known my body like this. He catalogues every inch of me, his goal to make every time better than the last. I’m pretty damn lucky he’s mine.
I move my hips in time with his fingers, and when his fingertips glide over my clit, I moan with abandon.
I’m so close already. I was on the edge before he even touched me. He pulls his face from my neck and watches my expression as I come so hard I practically scream. Tears are welling in my eyes from the intensity of it as I come down from the high, panting.
“So fucking hot,” my husband says, kissing me softly. “I was fantasizing about that the whole flight home. Watching you come like that.”
I feel like I could melt into a puddle of sated satisfaction. I return his kiss, and he cups my face in one hand. Then he bends down to untie my ankles from the chest of drawers.
“Want me to make dinner now, love?” I ask.
He turns his intense expression up toward me. “Good one. As soon as these are off, you’re bending your ass over that bed. And don’t expect me to untie your hands until I’m done with you.”
And just like that, my relaxation unravels and I’m completely turned on again. My husband is finally home. And damn, did I miss him.
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