“I didn’t do it. I swear.” Her voice had the perfect tremble to it.
“You felt the goddamn evidence.” I yanked her wrists above her head, slapped on the cuffs, and told her to stand still. Like that, I pushed harder against her ass, rubbing, rocking. “That’s your evidence.”
She moaned. “Yes, that is some hard evidence right there. Are you going to read me my rights?”
“You damn well bet I will.” I breathed out hard then began her Mirandas. “You have the right to tell me all your fantasies while I fuck you hard,” I informed her, then kissed her shoulder blade, eliciting a shudder. “Anything you say can and will be used by me to turn you all the way on. You have the right to multiple orgasms.” She rocked her hips back against me. “If you cannot have multiple Os, I will work harder all night long to give them to you. Do you understand? You’re going to divulge every filthy dream you have while I fill you deep.”
My fiancée gasped, dropped her head forward, and murmured, “Yes. God, yes.”
She was so incredibly sexy, and I wanted to give her everything. Wanted to give her every goddamn wish and desire because she’d given me something I never thought was possible.
Trust. Love. Faith.
I yanked down her panties, tugging them to just above her knees. Was there anything sexier than her ass exposed, a scrap of lace stretched across her thighs?
No, there was not.
Nothing compared to Lily.
Unzipping my pants, I took out my hard-as-steel length and rubbed the head against her heat. Lust ripped through my body at the feel of her arousal.
Tonight. I needed her to tell me tonight. I had it all planned out.
The Tell Me Your Fantasy game.
I needed to know hers. It had been driving me crazy, this consuming desire to give her all the pleasure in the world.
I rubbed my hard-on against her wetness, and she cried out, panting, begging.
“Finn, please.” She was desperate, so damn desperate. It went to my head. It drove me wild—her need and the way I could sate it.
But when we played, there were rules.
“Officer,” I barked, pulling the head away from where she wanted me. “Call me ‘Officer’ or you won’t have my cock the way you want.”
“Officer. I’m sorry.”
My teeth grazed her neck, nipping, biting. “You’ll be sorrier if you don’t tell me all your dirty dreams,” I said as I slid inside her.
It was heaven.
Every single time.
Hot. Tight. Wet. She fit me like a glove and I pictured all the ways I could make her come. I thrived on her pleasure because I loved her like crazy.
Before Lily, I was a surly, unhappy bastard who didn’t relax, didn’t enjoy life. When I met Lily, she unlocked me. It was like living a brand-new life. I was the guy who cooked for her, who took care of her, who relished every day in a way I’d never had before. She’d turned my world around.
And now, making her happy was my singular goal.
She’d turned me into a new man.
And this man needed this woman. I needed her for my heart, my head, and, well, at that moment, my aching length..
I drove into her again, stilling myself when I filled her all the way because my Lily liked to be full. She liked it deep and hard.
But then, she liked so many things in the bedroom, and it was my mission to give them to her. “What do you get off to, you naughty vixen? What makes you scream in pleasure when you’re being a bad girl, home alone, trying to tempt officers?”
“I get off to . . . student-teacher fantasies,” she said.
I shuddered inside her. We’d done the student-teacher one a few weeks ago, and it had been electric. She’d earned a D on a test and had gotten on her hands and knees, begging me to change it.
Like a good and filthy professor, I’d told her to suck me so hard I saw stars and then I might—might—raise her grade. I saw planets when she deep-throated me, and I gave her an A-plus. Then I’d given her extra credit by eating her sweetness on the desk—aka our kitchen table.
“I want more. Tell me more. What do you picture when you’re all alone?” My hips moved at a relentless pace, my fingers sliding between her legs, playing with her.
“Officer, I’m turned on by . . .” She paused like she’d been on the cusp of saying something, but then she course-corrected. “. . . doctor-patient games,” she blurted.
I wanted more. Needed more. “Then you’ll get them. But I need to know—what else makes you hot and wet and horny? Do you want to be spanked? Paddled? Your hair pulled?” I grabbed the sweet flesh of her ass, gripping her. “Taken so goddamn hard and rough I leave marks?”