This is my punishment.
I have to take it.
“Are you going to run away again?” His voice is a soft rumble that rolls right through me. I bite my lip.
“You’re not letting me come.” I can’t help how petulant I sound, and he chuckles.
“No. You don't come until I say so. You don’t run unless I tell you to. Youbelonghere, to me. It’s fate.” He hooks the gusset to the side and lowers his mouth to my core again. My whole body lights up. No one manipulates my body this well. Not me. Not my ex. Only Royal.
My pleasure is spiraling out of control. My inner muscles clench on air, on nothing.I’m so close.
Right before I go over, he lifts his head, looking up at me from between my trembling thighs.
“Do not,” he warns me, and I swallow hard, trying to stop myself from tipping over the edge.
“Please,” I beg softly, trying to put all my apology in my voice for running, for even thinking that I could escape him.
He strokes the insides of my thighs, craning his neck to kiss the stretch marks on my soft belly. “You have much to learn,cara mia.And I am going to teach you.” Now he’s risen up to nuzzle at my breasts. “You are going to be my good girl. My wife. All this,” he palms my pussy, “belongs to me.”
My breath hitches. My eyes flutter.
“Look at me, Leah.”
I open my eyes wide, meeting his dark gaze.
“I will never allow you to doubt how beautiful you are. I will spend the rest of my life, every last waking hour, making sure you know that you are a gift to the world.”
His palm rocks against my folds, gently rubbing. Destroying all thought.
“You are perfect. And you are mine.”
I strain my bonds. I need more.
But he takes his hand away. He stands, his fingers going to the buttons of his shirt. I whimper as the white linen and sleek undershirt fall to the ground. His bare chest is muscled and magnificent. He thumbs open his trousers. His pants and boxer briefs hit the floor. I get a few precious seconds to ogle his perfect body before he’s climbing onto the bed, sliding between my legs to drape his heavy form over me.
He kisses me, intense and insistent, tongue demanding access, the faint, earthy taste of myself on his lips. The flavor has my cheeks heated and blushing. His cock is in his hand. He guides it to my sopping center, spreading me open with the head. He drives inside me, and I cry out. His expression is serene as he fucks me hard into the sheets, like he knew this is where’d we be, right now, down to the minute and second.
Like he knew I’d try to run.
And that he’d catch me.
“You think you can run from me? You think I’d just let you go? That's not the type of man I am.” He slams his hips into mine, filling me to the brim. “I'm the man who takes what he wants.” He grinds against me. “And I want to own you.”
Oh. My. God.
“You’re perfect for me. I found perfection,cara.I’m not giving it up.” His breath doesn’t even hitch as he speeds up his thrusts. “You're mine, you understand?”
It’s too much. I need him, need to come.
“Yes yes yes…” Each word is a pleading whisper and he kisses me, then drags his lips down to my ear, breathing there softly as he moves deep inside me for what feels like forever. I’m a wound harp string, ready to snap.
“You may come—” he says, and something inside me snaps. My body shudders hard through an orgasm. My knees grip his hips. He groans a half-second after me, and his hips beat a tattoo against mine as he comes hard inside of me.
My chest is heaving hard enough for the both of us, and I grip the ties binding me to the bed. Why do I feel so safe underneath him? Why does it feel so right?
“Good girl,” he murmurs. “You did so well. You’re perfect for me.” He kisses my brow. My eyes fall closed. I’m tired, and the orgasm worked as a soporific, drugging me. He rises and unties me, returning to rearrange me in the bed.
The sheets and covers are surrounding me in his warmth and the soft scent of his cologne. This is where I belong, right here. I drift. His hands trace my curves, but I’m too tired to feel shy. His thumb strokes my belly. “You can’t leave me, Leah. You might be pregnant with my child.” His words are calm, but I hear an edge of hesitation in his voice, of anticipation. That rouses me. My brows knot, my sex-wrung brain trying to think, but Royal’s right. He didn’t use protection.
