“I don’t care. I need you.”
“Need me how?”
“Deep. Hard. Like you own me.”
“I do own you.”
“Prove it.”
I thrust into her fully, burying myself in her slick, tight heat, and the way she clenches around me nearly undoes me right there. Kasi’s legs tighten around my waist, her back pressed against the Vegas suite’s floor-to-ceiling windows, the city’s neon glow painting her skin in shades of gold and fire.
Her moan, low and desperate, vibrates through me, and I grip her hips, holding her steady as I fight the urge to lose myself completely. She’s radiant, pregnant with my child, her curves fuller, her body more responsive than ever, and knowing every man in that meeting was staring at her—my brilliant, fearless wife—makes me want to claim her until the whole damn world knows she’s mine.
“Fuck, Kasi,” I growl, my voice rough with need as I pull back, then thrust again, slow and deep, savoring every inch of her. “You feel so good. So perfect.”
Her head tips back against the glass, exposing the delicate line of her throat, and I lean in, kissing the pulse point where her heartbeat races, tasting the faint salt of her skin.
“Alaric,” she gasps, her fingers digging into my shoulders, nails biting through my open shirt. The sting only fuels me, and I move faster, each thrust drawing a soft, needy sound from her that makes my blood burn hotter. “Don’t stop,” she whispers, her voice breaking, and the way she says it—like I’m her only anchor—makes my chest tighten.
“Never,” I murmur in her ear. “You’re mine, sweetheart. Every inch of you.” I slide a hand between us, finding the lace of her panties—already soaked—and tug them aside, wanting nothing between us.
Kasi’s wetter than ever, her pregnancy amplifying every sensation, making her body so responsive that even the lightest touch pulls a moan from her lips. I pull out, ignoring her whimper of protest, and drop to my knees, my hands gripping her thighs to keep her steady against the window.
“What are you—” she starts, but her words dissolve into a sharp gasp as I press my mouth to her, my tongue flicking against her swollen clit with deliberate precision. Her taste is sweet and heady. I groan against her, the vibration making her hips buck. “Oh God, Alaric,” she moans, her hands flying to my hair, tugging hard enough to send a jolt straight to my cock.
I devour her, my tongue circling, teasing, then sucking gently, savoring every shudder, every sound. Her thighs tremble against my shoulders, her moans growing louder, more desperate, filling the suite with a symphony that’s just for me. “You taste so fucking good,” I murmur, pulling back just enough to meet her eyes, my lips slick with her arousal. “So sensitive. Is this all for me, baby?”
“Yes,” she pants, her voice raw, her fingers tightening in my hair. “Only for you.” Her eyes are dark, hazy with want, and the sight of her—flushed, pregnant, and completely mine—makes me want to worship her forever.
But then her gaze shifts, a spark of mischief flickering in those hazel eyes. “Alaric,” she breathes, her voice dropping to that husky tone that drives me wild. “I want more. I want you to…take control. Really take control.”
I pause, my lips hovering over her skin, my breath hot against her. “What are you asking for, Kasi?”
She bites her lip, a flush creeping up her neck, but there’s no hesitation in her voice. “Tie me up. Be rough. I want to feel you own me.”
The words hit me like a lightning bolt, my cock throbbing painfully against my open pants. My brilliant, fearless wife, pregnant with my child, wants me to dominate her, to push herlimits. I stand, slow and deliberate, my eyes locked on hers. “You sure about that, sweetheart?”
Her chin lifts, that defiant spark I love flaring brighter. “I trust you. I want it. Please.”
I don’t need to be asked twice. I step back, scanning the suite, my mind racing. The silk tie from my suit jacket, discarded on the floor, catches my eye. I grab it, the fabric smooth and cool against my fingers, and turn back to her. “Hands behind your back.”
She complies instantly, turning so her back is to me, her wrists crossing at the small of her back. The sight of her—lace-clad, pregnant, submitting to me against the backdrop of Vegas’s glittering skyline—makes my blood burn hotter. I loop the tie around her wrists, knotting it firmly but carefully, mindful of her comfort. The silk bites just enough to hold her, and she tests the restraint, a soft whimper escaping her lips.
“Too tight?” I ask, my voice low, checking in.
She shakes her head, her breathing uneven. “Perfect.”
I spin her back around, pressing her against the window again, her bound hands trapped between her body and the glass. The city sprawls below us, millions of lights painting her skin in gold and neon, and the knowledge that anyone could look up and see her like this.
“Tell me what you want,” I growl, my hands sliding up her thighs, pushing the lace of her panties aside to expose her fully. She’s dripping, her arousal coating my fingers as I tease her entrance, not giving her what she needs just yet.
“I want you to fuck me,” she says, her voice bold despite the vulnerability of her position. “Hard. Deep. Make me feel it.”
I lean in, my lips brushing her ear. “You want it rough, Kasi? You want me to make you scream so loud every bastard in this city knows you’re mine?”
“Yes,” she moans, her hips rocking against my hand, seeking more. “Please, Alaric. Do it.”
I don’t hold back. I slide two fingers inside her, curling them. My thumb is circling her clit with relentless pressure. Her head tips back against the glass, her bound hands flexing as she moans, loud and unrestrained. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” I murmur, watching her face contort with pleasure, her lips parting as her body clenches around my fingers. “So wet for me.”
