But if my husband thinks he’s painting me tonight, he’s dead wrong, and if Arsen and Beretta think we’re sharing the back room for some fun on my wedding night, they’re just as fucking crazy.
Right as I’m thinking it, I slip from the door, and not a second after I do the soft fabric gently drops over my head covering my face. My hands are bound together and I’m lifted off my feet by not one, but three sets of hands.
This time I don’t kick and scratch, though.
I chuckle, relaxing in their hands and their husky laughs warm my chest.
They still love their games, even though the rules changed a long time ago.
I know we’re headed into the back, windowless room before the door is unlocked and I’m carried inside, and I know as they set me down that when I remove the silken sack from my head, they won’t be in front of me. Or they will, but I won’t see them until they open their eyes.
What they don’t know is I had a surprise planned for my husband. I admit, this is almost better.
Maybe I subconsciously expected this tonight, and it’s a little thing called full circle, but I know my man, and I know what will follow.
So, I slowly slide the thing off my head, but I keep my eyes closed tight, holding in my laugh, knowing full well the extent of their synchronization. I know they waited exactly five seconds to sharply snap their eyes open to tease me with their glowing gazes.
So when Ransom’s sharp demand of “open your eyes, Trouble” comes, my laughter slips free.
I spin and he hears it, but he doesn’t see it—this room was purposely designed to block out every single hint of light for nights we wish to play.
An arm shoots out, latching on to mine and I smirk into the darkness.
I could pick his hands out of hundreds by now, so I know it’s him, but if I couldn’t, the feel of his ring would give him away, and suddenly I’m done teasing.
I spin so Ransom releases me and am now facing in their direction. After an internal count to three, I flick my eyes open.
My core clenches at the short-hissed breaths along the room.
I look from one to the next, meeting their tantalizing, glow-in-the-dark turquoise contacts... with a hot pink pair of my own.
Ransom jerks forward, his rough, strong hands gripping my face tight as he tears me to him.
His excitement strains against his black dress pants, pressing hard against my abdomen and I smile into the darkness.
“Baby,” he groans, his palms gliding into my hair.
The boys know what we need, both laughing the second Ransom snaps “Out” and they’re already opening the door.
Ransom doesn’t wait for it to close but is already clawing at my bare back with one hand, pulling my lips against his with the other.
He kisses me raw, heated, and full, and when his fingers find the zipper of my dress, my mouth curls into a smile he feels. He tugs back, his eyes on mine.
I let him unzip the thing over my ass, but when his fingertips come up to my shoulders to help the dress from my body, I step back.
He allows it, waiting, knowing more is coming
With slow movements I let it fall from my skin, and he sucks in a harsh breath as it pools around my feet.
The dress didn’t allow for a bra, but the pasties I used are star-shaped and the exact shade of hot pink as my eyes are glowing... as is the thong and thigh garment I’m wearing. I’ve got glow-in-the-dark glitter strategically streaked along the curve of my waist, breasts, and thighs, and Monti helped me out with a small handprint over my ass cheek, so when I turn, he darts forward, molding his hand over the exact spot.
“Fuck me,” he groans, burying his face in my neck. “My wife is trying to kill me on my wedding night.”
I chuckle, moaning when he bites me there, then licks and kisses, and then I’m hoisted and flipped, set on the edge of the desk.
“Wife.” I tip my head farther to the side. “I like the sound of that.”
“I know.” He sucks my skin, squeezing my breasts in both hands as I work the black suit jacket from his shoulders and follow with the removal of his dress shirt, also black, of course.
His hands come down and he opens up his belt buckle, kicks his shoes from his feet, and steps from his pants. “Wrap those legs around me, baby, and hold on.”
“Yes, boss,” I tease as I’m lifted from the desktop and carried to the far side of the room.
He likes it, his cock twitching against my center, and I can’t help but roll my hips against it in an attempt to ease the ache I too feel, before he gently lays me flat on my back.
The rug is placed in this spot for this very reason velvety soft and slick against my skin.
I let my arms fall back, gliding them along the material as I inhale deeply, enjoying the feel of my man on top of me.
He senses it, the heavy sense of contentment warming my blood in this moment, and his touch grows featherlight, skating along my sides to my cheeks.
He holds me there, and I stretch my arm and fingers, clicking on the wall fireplace beside us.
The flickering of the blue flames illuminates half his face, and it reminds me of that night on the balcony when he first claimed me as his.
I was, am, and will forever be.
The corner of his mouth lifts and a sigh leaves me.
“I love you, Ransom Rossi.”
His cock aligns with my entrance, and as he brings his mouth to mine, he pushes inside of me. “I love you, Trouble.”
As his head reaches its fullest point, my back lifts from the carpet, and I pull my legs up and over his hips.
His free palm glides under my ass and he lifts me up, angling me as he likes, my ass an inch from the floor.
“Roll those hips for me, baby,” he rasps, pressing his lips to mine.
I tear at his hair, forcing his mouth to my chest, tortured by his slow movements while savoring every moment.
In the bedroom, when Ransom is in control, I know I’m in for a long, drawn-out, core-deep orgasm. The kind that builds and builds, making you shake and sweat and beg incoherently, and then explodes a fraction of a second later. The kind that takes over your body and locks every inch of it in place.
He’s always liked it slow and deliberate, every twist and curl of his body purposeful and pleasure-seeking.
I love it as it’s allowed me to memorize every ridge of his cock, every arch of every muscle in his body, as he has mine.
It’s when I’m flipped onto my knees, tugged or climbing onto his lap that things get a little wild.
In every aspect of our lives, he’s the half that makes me whole.
My muscles begin to tense and my mind grows hazy.
I moan into the air and he growls against my skin.
“Come for me, my wife,” he whispers, his hips gliding in slow, and slamming as he reaches the hilt, driving himself deeper.
My pussy squeezes around him and he chuckles, his mouth coming up to take mine.
His brows crash as he comes, hard and long and he kisses me, panting in my mouth as I cry into his.
I accept his weight as it falls on me, but he only lets me rest a few moments before he flips us, and I’m dead weight on top of him.
He pushes himself so he’s sitting up and uses his teeth to remove the pasties from my nipples, pulling them into his mouth quickly.
They pucker before him and his cock rises between my legs.
Ransom drops back, closes his eyes, and crosses his arms behind his head.