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  Hell, my wife is a strong, intelligent woman with a career and ambitions. I don’t want her barefoot and pregnant. I love her drive and determination. What I want, what I need, is to be her everything when it comes to satisfying her desires as she should be in satisfying mine.

  I slowly ease out as her eyes open wide.

  “Don’t...what are you doing?” she asks, her blue eyes widening in question, their stare demanding answers even louder than her voice.

  I brush a rogue strand of hair away from her beautiful face. “You’re perfect. I want to keep fucking you.”

  Her hips move beneath me. “Then do it. I was almost there.”

  My grin grows at her desperation. “Baby, think about it. What do I want?”

  Her chest heaves as she lets my question register. “You wanted me to suck you. You want that now?”

  I laugh at the way her tone grows higher with desperation. “That’s right. You suck me and once I’m done, I promise I won’t leave you hanging.”

  She shakes her head and mutters something about not understanding, yet slowly, she moves until she’s off the bed and kneeling on the floor.

  I walk around her—once, twice. “Hands behind your back. I don’t want you taking matters with yourself into your own hands.”

  With her eyes staring straight ahead and an expression of exasperation, she does as I say.

  “Grab your own wrists and don’t let go.”

  I wait until she complies.

  “How’s your orgasm, baby?”

  “Gone.” Her tone is flat.

  I lift her chin until her gaze is back to mine. “Don’t worry. I promise you’ll get it back. Now open your lips and lower your tongue. I misled you. I don’t want you to suck me. I’m going to teach you how to let me keep fucking you. Just this time, instead of your greedy pussy, it’ll be your mouth.”

  It’s as if the wheels are turning in her head. Her shoulders move backward in defiance, yet her mouth opens and tongue falls down. Though my voice is commanding, internally, I’m amused at her obvious conflict and pleased with her decision to comply. “That’s it. Now take me and don’t back away.”

  My cock, glistening with our juices, slides over her lips and tongue until I’m as deep as I can go. Instead of moving, I wait as she wiggles, fighting her own need to release her hands and take some control. Finally, her jaw relaxes, and there’s a rush of air from her nose. “Baby, you’ve got this.” Slowly at first, I rock into her, allowing her body to meet mine, our movements in sync until my balls grow tight and the need within me is too great to hold back.

  Capturing the sides of her face between my palms, I thrust in and out until the tension breaks and stars explode behind my closed eyes. It’s the best fucking orgasm I’ve had in years as I hold her in place, and she quickly swallows gulp after gulp as I continue to come.

  When I’m finally done, I linger in place as she licks me clean, returning my erection. Helping her to stand, I praise her obedience while kissing her lips and tasting our tart combination. “You were perfect; now it’s your turn.”

  “I’m not sure—”

  I stop her with a finger on her lips. “I’m sure. Pleasing me is what you want. It’s why we’re together. It makes you hot and turns you on. I guarantee you’re wet and tight and ready to snap because that’s what we do. We know one another better than anyone else. Now lie back on that bed and spread your legs. I promised you an orgasm and, my gorgeous wife, I plan on delivering.”

  She’s never been sexier than she is right now, her blue eyes wide, filled with uncertainty at my change in behavior, yet trusting because deep down she knows I’d never do anything to hurt her. She’s my entire world, and it’s time she takes a place in the parts of that world I’ve kept hidden.

  “I only want to hear your sexy sounds,” I say. “No words. Do you understand?”

  She nods as she crawls higher onto the bed and sighs as she lies back, moving to the position I demanded.

  With her beautiful dark hair fanned over the pillow and her legs spread, I begin at the inside of her knees with kisses and nips until it’s difficult for her to keep from fidgeting as she bites her lip to keep from calling out. It’s as I lap and lick that her sounds, moans, and whimpers grow louder.

  I circle her tight ring of muscles with my thumb as my tongue continues its torment.

  It’s a good thing we’re alone on this island because as my thumb breaches that ring, penetrating where I’ve never gone before, she cries out even louder. With my other arm, I hold her hips in place as she squirms and pants until her body detonates under my grasp. Once her muscles begin to relax, I prove to her what I’d said earlier: pleasing one another is the best aphrodisiac.

  My dick is as hard as steel as I climb up her voluptuous body, and for the second or third time, bury myself balls deep into her warm haven.

  “Paul, I don’t think I can...”

  “I know you can. This time, baby, let’s make love?”

  Her tired eyes sparkle as she looks up at me. Her gaze is filled with more adoration and appreciation than I’ve seen in over a year. The expression she’s giving me makes me want nothing more than to guarantee that this will all work: our marriage, our needs, and our future.

  But I can’t, not yet.

  Jenn is the woman I chose to tone down my desires for, but how could I? How can I dial down needs when she’s the only woman I desire?

  I can’t help but hope that I can somehow make her see that we can have both.

  Her back arches as she accommodates me. “I love you, Paul. I never stopped.”

  “I know.” I still as our eyes say things we have had trouble voicing. We’re doing what I said, communicating without words. “Jenn, let me show you what I need and while I do, you tell me what you need.”

  Her neck strains as she reaches up to kiss me. “I need you to love me.”

  “I do. I love you. You’re the only woman I’ve ever loved.”

  I’m sure she must be tender from before, yet she doesn’t complain as we gently and slowly move together. The new wave builds until we’re holding on to one another and then fall hand in hand, our fingers and bodies intertwined as we find our ecstasy together.

  We remain connected, her face tucked into the crook of my neck and her heart beating below mine until our breathing evens.

  She’s simply spectacular, and she’s mine.

  I wrap my arms around her and in that moment know what I’ve known since the night I met her. I want everything with this woman. I want her to be strong, and at the same time I want to dominate this side of her and take care of her. She’s mine in every way.

  Easing us apart, I climb out of the bed.

  Leaving her for only a moment, I make my way to the bathroom and dampen a washcloth with warm water. After tending to Jenn, I pull the covers over her, close the mosquito netting around the bed, and promise to return.

  A short time later, I’m back with the sandwiches and fruit Miguel had mentioned as well as bottles of water. Naked within our netted cocoon, we eat and drink as the sun sets over the water, blues growing darker until the sky fills with stars.

  “I can’t believe we’re here,” Jenn says as she takes another drink of her water.

  “We might come up with something fancier for dinner tomorrow.”

  Her grin grows. “This is the best turkey sandwich I’ve ever had. I didn’t realize how hungry I was.”

  I lift a small slice of pineapple and bring it to her lips. “We must keep up our strength.” Without hesitation, they part, accepting my gift.

  Before she can speak, I lean in and kiss her, licking the sweet pineapple juice from her lips. “Because that’s the best pineapple I’ve ever tasted and I plan on doing a lot more tasting through the next ten days.”

  Her long lashes flutter as a warm pink glow fills her cheeks.

  With all of our needs met, the remnants of our food removed, and the sound of the surf our soundtrack, Jenn snuggles against my side.<
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  Kissing the top of her head, my nose twitches from her tickling hair. There are so many things I want to say, and I will. But at the moment, there is only one that truly seems important. With my arm tucked around my wife, holding her to my side, I say, “I love you.”

  “You were right.” Her sleepy eyes look up at me as her neck cranes on my chest.

  “About loving you?”

  “About secrets. I have them too.” She settles her cheek against my shoulder. “But loving you isn’t one of them. I do. I always have.” She turns away just before her body goes limp, and her breathing creates a rhythm, telling me she’s fallen asleep.

  Running my hand over her soft skin, feeling the warmth of her breath on my skin, I decide to give her statement more thought in the future. We have nine more days. No need to explore everything the first day.

  The glistening stars lighting the waves around our bungalow is the last thing I see as my lids grow heavy, and I join her in sleep.

  Chapter Five

  Jenn

  As I stretch on the soft sheets, my body cries out with tender reminders of what Paul and I did last night. Not ready to face the bright sun beyond my closed eyes, I keep them shut and recall my confession before falling asleep last night.

  I admitted to having secrets.

  That was step one. Step two is where I’m not sure I can go. I’m not sure that I’ll be able to admit what those secrets are—or were. After last night, I’m not confident I know if they’re past or present.

  Paul’s unexpected display of dominance last night did more than give me numerous earth-shaking orgasms. It rekindled fantasies I hadn’t entertained since before meeting my husband. My infatuation with submission started innocently enough. Growing up, I’d never heard of anything like it. And then when I was in college, I started reading novels about role play and BDSM. While my first instinct was to roll my eyes, thinking it was ridiculous, with each chapter or new story, I found myself more and more intrigued.

  My parents raised me to be strong and independent. When I read the first novel, I was on the fast track to finishing my bachelor’s degree. Due to the number of advanced courses I took my senior year of high school, it would be complete in three years versus four. The plan set before me was to complete my master’s degree before my twenty-third birthday.

  I was the president of various organizations and clubs. I believed in equal rights, equal pay for equal work, and a woman’s right to control her own body.

  I still believe all of that.

  Yet reading scenes of submission and domination continued to fascinate me. Thank goodness for my e-reader. I could read anything from the most well-known books on BDSM to more risqué ones, and no one would know. It was my secret.

  Until.

  I met him at a party my sophomore year. Richard was one year older than me, pre-med, big in his fraternity, and came from money. He was cocky and arrogant—the exact opposite of the type of man who had ever caught my eye.

  And yet he did.

  With his devilish green eyes and dark hair, he caught many a girl’s eye. For some reason, he wanted me, and Richard was one of those people who got what he wanted, when he wanted, how he wanted.

  You know the type.

  He also pushed every one of my buttons in the most annoying of ways, but most importantly, though I thought they were buried deep in my e-reader, somehow Richard saw my hidden desires.

  This isn’t a story with a happy ending.

  He used that insight and capitalized upon it.

  It started slowly. One night after too much alcohol, I agreed to being bound. The next time he added a crop. My consent became unnecessary in his mind. Before I knew it, everything escalated. My boundaries blurred until my fantasies became a recurring nightmare.

  It wasn’t only in the bedroom that he exercised his control. It was everywhere and everything. My appearance was under constant scrutiny—clothes, hairstyle, makeup, weight—and so was the food I ate. A simple assessment that my skirt was too tight would result in a crash diet of 700 calories a day.

  My goals no longer mattered. There was only one that was important: to be a doctor’s wife. For that, I didn’t need the master’s degree. I didn’t need anything other than to be exactly what Richard said—correction, exactly what he wanted, even if he didn’t say.

  I was expected to know.

  What had started as fun in the bedroom became abuse in every aspect of my life. And yet, in the center of the storm, I didn’t see it. Without my fully realizing it, his degradation became my norm. Along the way I became lost.

  During our relationship, I’d wake in a panic, assessing everything. I was constantly concerned that perhaps I’d unknowingly done something the day before to upset him or fearful that I would do something that day. I didn’t spend as much time studying as I did worrying that one word or one look would set him off.

  I knew that if it did, if I misbehaved, what at one time had been fun would become my punishment. He had the ultimate say in my—everything.

  It wasn’t until my parents insisted that I join them on a family vacation—showing up at our apartment and forcibly requiring me to go because Richard didn’t approve—that I even realized how far I had fallen. Thank goodness my mother intervened. At first, I was too embarrassed to admit the intimate details of Richard’s and my relationship—on the surface we appeared perfect. That was the only acceptable appearance. However, she and my father somehow saw through the charade.

  Once I admitted the truth, my parents came out swinging. Not at me, but at him—the man I thought I’d marry.

  It took time. At first, Richard was too shocked that I would dare to leave him and acted as though he didn’t care. My relief was short-lived when he began following, harassing, and finally threatening me.

  In the end, I transferred colleges and filed a restraining order. I believe it was his family who convinced him to back away. Their name was well known. They didn’t want little unimportant me to become a blemish on his promising career.

  After all that I had gone through, I thought that I’d never trust a man again.

  And then I met Paul.

  The attraction was immediate. Deep down I was afraid, but it was unnecessary. Paul was nothing like Richard. Paul was fun, genuine, and loving. When we were together, life wasn’t all about him and keeping him happy. With Paul it was about two people making each other happy and working out our differences if one of us was upset. We talked as a couple.

  It’s what our therapist wants us to do on this getaway.

  Paul has always encouraged my career, never demeaned me or my choices. He’s supported my decisions, never overruling them, and I’ve done the same with his. We’ve always been a partnership—until we weren’t.

  My heart starts to beat faster, recalling last night and the tone of his voice as he demanded a blowjob.

  I take a deep breath and clutch the sheet wrapped around my body as I remember.

  No. That wasn’t what happened. Paul didn’t demand. He reminded me of his desire.

  Is that the same thing?

  As I contemplate, I also remember how my body reacted, the way my core tightened as he pumped his cock in and out of my mouth and how wet I became. There is no denying that I was turned on.

  Admitting my fantasies scares me. I did that once and it didn’t turn out well.

  My closed eyes work to contain tears rapidly building.

  I tell myself that I don’t want what Paul and I have to change, but then I recall Mr. Miller’s office and the divorce papers. If things don’t change, that is where we will eventually end up. Things need to change, but is this possible track the right direction?

  I’ve never told Paul about Richard. We both know that we weren’t each other’s first. We agreed to keep it at that. Besides, I’ve always been ashamed that I’d allowed the situation with Richard to progress to where it had. After it was over, my parents insisted on my seeing a counselor. I did, for years. The counselor re
peatedly emphasized that I had nothing to be ashamed of. I was the victim of a psychotic abuser.

  That’s what he was: not a Dom but a sadistic abuser, and though I don’t have my degrees in psychology, I believe psychotic is accurate.

  It took me a long time to fully understand that Richard had the problem, not me.

  And now there’s this change in Paul—his tone, his control—and the way I responded.

  Damn. My body hasn’t exploded with orgasms like those in years. It wasn’t just one. Last night, I lost count.

  I’m scared to go down the path Paul presented. While I still recall the way my body twisted and tingled at the change in his voice, I’m scared to rekindle those fantasies.

  The bed shifts as my mind moves from the past and last night to present.

  In a microsecond I remember fear. That same overwhelming concern I felt with Richard. Will Paul be upset? Did I do something wrong?

  And then I open my eyes.

  With the bright morning sun as a backdrop, I’m basking in the adoring brown-eyed gaze of my husband. Washed away by the light of day, my anxiety dissipates.

  His long fingers gently move a strand of my hair away from my face, slowly passing over my cheek, as his smile broadens. “Good morning, sleepy head. Do you plan to wake today?”

  Trying desperately to live in the moment and forget the past, I force a smile, blink to adjust to the brightness, yet never let my gaze leave his. “I probably should. I need to pee.”

  His deep laugh reverberates throughout the room as the sound of surf makes my need greater.

  “Well,” he says, “while you’re doing that, I’ll get the coffee ready. We still have fruit left from last night and I found muffins. Come out to the deck and we can decide what we want to do today.”

  My cheeks rise in a sincere smile.

  Decide what we will do today.

  Paul isn’t Richard. He never will be.

  “Yes,” I say, wincing as I move. “I will. You’ll need to fill me in on our options.”