The act of trimming also further relaxes me, the sounds of the scissors and the sensation of the snips lulling me into another state. She quietly hums a tune as she snips away; I recognize it as the piece I’ve been practicing for my cello performance tomorrow. The fact of this makes my chest feel tight. I am utterly, madly in love with this woman. I’m falling deeper into a state of hypnosis, on the verge of sleep, when she tells me she’s finished the trim.

  She brushes away the cut hair from my neck and chest while inspecting my new trim in the bathroom mirror.

  “Good?”

  It’s perfect. I take her hand and place it flat on my chest, over my heart, and squeeze. I blink slowly at her.

  “It was nothing. Well, I’ll let you rinse off in the shower, then I’ll come in and sweep up.”

  Maya thinks she’s leaving, but she’s not. I refuse to let go of her hand. Her eyes widen, and I watch the realization hit her as I turn on the shower. I shed my pajama pants and drawers one-handed. With my eyes, I beckon her to join me.

  We’re both quite tired. We should be sleeping already, but I need to show Maya my gratitude.

  For the first time, she’s entirely bare for me. What have I done that’s good in my life to deserve such perfection? My arms act on their own, sweeping her under the spray with me. Her small cry of surprise satisfies some deep primal need within me—the instinct to show off, shock, and delight her. At the same time, to seduce and claim her.

  Our kiss ignites my soul. Her body trembles in my arms, and I pull her close as we let the warm water drench us together. She smiles as I brush the wet hair out of her eyes. My angel. There’s so much I want to tell her. For now, I’ll simply show her. She wants to touch me, handle me, satisfy me. Maya has already done so much more than that just by being who she is, by letting me take care of her. My girl is not letting this opportunity get away from her; both of us greedily soak in the moment. Our hands drag, squeeze, explore.

  My mouth captures one taut nipple as my thumb strums the other. Maya’s moan urges me onward, and so I gently use my teeth. Her nails dig into my shoulder. “Harder. Firmer,” she begs.

  My mouth waters for her taste. Her pussy is hot in my hand, pressing tighter as I bite and suck the side of her breast. “Yes, Doyle,” she rasps. My teeth spend time nipping and teasing each nipple before leaving a matching love bite on the other breast.

  It’s time for dessert.

  Backing her up against the shower wall, I spread her open, plunging my face home. Her hot, wet pussy is in my dreams when I wake up, wanting her. She spreads for me, dragging her fingers along my scalp. I’m flooded with love for this woman. I will do anything and everything in my power to make her feel appreciated and loved, and understood. If the noise comes back in my head, even if she’s around, so what. Doesn’t matter. All that matters is she’s with me. I can’t go through life alone. I don’t want to do any of it without Maya.

  I feast aggressively, just the way she likes it. I lose all sanity between her gorgeous folds, holding her still with two handfuls of her plump cheeks. Her lovely cunt contracts, and her sweetness bathes my tongue. I cannot resist the demand to take her taut clit into my mouth and suck. And nibble. Her cries of release push my self-control to the brink.

  Maya takes my cock in her hands and pumps. This time, I let go and let her do as she pleases. Through bared teeth, my inhuman grunts escape me while I guide her. My girl may say she’s new at all this. She’s a damn quick study, or I’m so turned on there’s not a thing she can do wrong. I dare to scrape my teeth along her collarbone, teasing and licking. My Maya is delicious. And far too good to me.

  Through bared teeth, I growl through my climax, our foreheads pressed together. By the time we’re finished with each other, the bathroom is thoroughly steamed.

  She sighs as she backs out of the shower and grabs a towel, pulling me along by the hand. “We both need sleep before the big day tomorrow, but I don’t want to leave you.”

  I haven’t told her yet. We’re sleeping in the same bed from now on. Starting tonight.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Doyle

  The following morning is the day of the First Annual Fate Fall Fiber Festival, and I’m actually feeling nervous.

  No one in Fate other than Maya has ever seen me play the cello before.

  Maya left early this morning to set up decorations and flowers.

  I help with random tasks around the festival grounds, such as helping people haul pumpkins to their cars. Around noon I run home to fetch my cello and music stand.

  After the Fate Elementary School recorder club clears the stage, I take a few deep breaths.

  I look around for Maya, but I don’t see her; the committee has her running all over today.

  Or she could be avoiding me, not wanting to go public with our relationship yet. I don’t blame her; she’s new here, and the town gossip factory is on another level.

  I’m about to play my song when Billie Jane from the knitting club asks if she can say a few words to the crowd first.

  Oddly, Billie ends up saying nothing and trudging off the stage in a strange funk. At least I know I’m not the only awkward person in Fate. We’re full of oddities.

  I do not need the sheet music, but it’s an excellent prop. The music stand gives me something to look at when I’m nervous.

  Playing in front of people was never a problem until I moved back here, went through the worst trauma of my life other than my parents dying, and the crippling anxiety took over. My therapist will be proud.

  I hate that I have to think of her as if she’s my mother, like she will give me a pat on the head.

  I keep my eyes trained on my sheet music as I melt into the music of Bach’s Cello Suite No. 1 in G Major.

  About thirty seconds in, I feel eyes on me.

  I cut my eyes out to the crowd, and there she is.

  Maya.

  She stares at me, not like a girl with a crush. But like a wife who’s proud of her husband.

  The light in her eyes is little by little showing me the way. In her, I see my partner, my friend, my lover, the mother of my children, and my champion.

  I haven’t given her enough credit.

  With her eyes, she tells me that she’s ready.

  Finally, I believe her.

  If I could sprint through the rest of this Bach piece, I would. But that wouldn’t be fair. People are actually enjoying it, and so is she.

  My wife—because that’s what she is already in my mind—holds her palm over her heart as she watches me, her eyes blinking rapidly.

  I press on and finish the piece, knowing I could leap from the stage at any second and drag her back home.

  Chapter Twenty

  Maya

  Every slide of the bow across the strings vibrates inside my body.

  My heart races. Doyle’s hands gliding up and down the neck of the instrument sends ripples over my skin. The way he stroked my neck, the way he pumped his own flesh in front of my unknowing eyes.

  Each note unwraps me further. The piece is irresistible. The emotion of it plucks away at any doubt I have left about Doyle.

  The song is so pure and sacred that I’m sure I’m committing some kind of sin by feeling aroused by it.

  But it’s not the music itself but the way he plays it. He’s not pretending to look at the sheet music. He’s not even pretending not to stare right at me.

  Surely everyone can see what’s happening.

  I glance around, and all eyes are on him. My hand slides across the skin of my chest, spreading goose flesh in its wake.

  For a second, his eyes flick to my middle and then back up to my gaze. His jaw tics.

  We speak to each other with our eyes.

  Are you having impure thoughts?

  Please, for the love of all things unholy, please fuck me. I’m begging you.

  You’re torturing me, and there’s nothing I can do about it from up here.

  No, and I know that. Please. Please. Please.

  The second the piece is over, I send him a pointed look and then turn on my heels and bike back home.

  I feel his eyes on me as I ride my bike around the block two times, as I always do now.

  Taking deep breaths, I enter through the kitchen door.

  The second I put my key in the lock, the door flies open.

  Doyle is there already, but he looks different. He looks wild with need.

  Grunting, he takes me by the arm and leads me upstairs.

  I bite my lip to keep from asking questions.

  He’s furious. For the duration of our climb to the third floor, my heart sinks. He’s punishing me by locking me in my room. He’s threatened to do it before whenever I push him, and now he’s going to make good on that promise. I don’t know what I’ll do if he actually locks me up because of some idiotic self-punishment.

  But then, when we reach the landing on the stairs and head down the hallway—away from my room—my heart leaps for joy.

  The surprise excites me, and I breathe deeply to prepare for whatever might be next. The fact that I don’t know is enough to heat my cheeks, making my clothes feel uncomfortably restricting.

  He leads me down the hall to the door of his room.

  With his hand on the rich walnut, his face turns back to look at me. He’s breathing heavily.

  Last chance, is the signal I read.

  I nod ever so slightly. Then lift my chin confidently.

  The curl of his lip drenches me.

  But instead of pushing in, he lets his hand drop as he steps toward me.

  Oh no, I think. Please don’t say I’m not ready. Not again.

  He doesn’t. Doyle steps toward me, scoops me up, flares his nostrils, and kicks open the door.

  Finally.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Doyle

  Despite all my resistance, despite all my warnings, she finally pushed me too far, and now she’s going to pay.

  My Maya with her bike and her cross necklace and her flowers.

  The love of my life is going to pay for loving me.

  The only way to show her what she’s in for, for the rest of her life, is to do it.

  But first, a kiss.

  Pinned up against the door, I torment her mouth with a devouring kiss.

  Licking the inside of her mouth, her tongue lashes me back. My angel opens her throat, letting me do exactly what I want. Even angling her lower body forward to press against my leg, telling me she loves this.

  This just won’t do.

  Tugging her from the doorway, I roughly shed her clothes from her body. Her jacket, sweater, and skirt come off, leaving her in nothing but her underwear.

  I examine Maya from head to toe. Her eyes wide, her mouth swollen from our kiss, her chest splotchy with heat.

  My finger hooks into the dip at the front of her bra, and I drag her forward, slamming her into me for another kiss.

  I cup her face with my hands and let her see what she’s done to me. She’s turned me into a monster that can’t resist its cravings any longer.

  And still, she smiles up at me with that knowing smile.

  Do it. I dare you, Doyle.

  Huffing, I throw her down on the bed facedown and spread her legs. The sound of her shock stirs my arousal but no sympathy. This is what she asked for.

  I loop the long straps around her ankles, with enough slack to let her keep that ass in the air where I need it, splaying her open for me. I drag each hand down to the backs of her knees, and there I wrap the single cuff around both wrists.

  Holding her head down on the mattress, gentle at first, I grind my naked cock against her center, feeling the heat radiating through the fabric.

  Maya pushes back against me as damp warmth seeps through the cotton, teasing my erection.

  The biting begins at the small of her back. She yips and moans at the pain. It’s time for the gag.

  The sight of my trusting angel tied down and gagged, her face looking back at me, is almost too much for me to absorb. My heart is full.

  Her eyes blink, her chin rises and falls, nodding her consent. Her sweet peach of an ass pushes back again.

  I keep going. I’ve covered the entire plane of her back and her rump with small nibbles. Her flesh is delicious, and I suck and scrape all of it, a small bit at a time, into my mouth.

  The moisture in her panties spreads. She struggles to reach me, to urge me to shove forward, to take things up a notch.

  I fist my hand into her hair and taste the shell of her ear. Maya lets out a small moan before I slide my hand down her back and let her listen to me rip, rip, rip her panties from her body. I spread her open wide and run my hands through her sweet wetness. I stifle the groan in my chest, my ache growing deeper when her honey coats my hand.

  I plunge my cock in between her folds, letting her know this is finally happening.

  But first, I need to play.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Maya

  Oh. My. God.

  I thought the evil Gru thing was a joke, but he truly is evil.

  The man has my ass in the air, his cock nestled in my folds from behind, so deep that the tip budges my clit.

  Meanwhile, he’s filled his hands with my breasts, caressing, teasing, strumming my nipples with his thumbs. Doyle’s hot breath against my neck almost sends me over the edge.

  Every time I squirm, I forget that I’m tied and cuffed.

  I wriggle under him, itching to reach back and touch him. My thighs want to snap these straps and clamp around his legs, but I can’t. The leather creaks. My cuffs bite into my wrists. And yet, these realities crank the heat up inside me even further.

  Being restrained and surrounded by Doyle is everything and more than I thought it would be.

  I am fully present in my body.

  I’m surrounded by this remarkable man.

  I’m protected.

  And any moment now, he’s going to fill me with his seed.

  He’s going to obliterate what’s left of my virginity.

  The thought of it, and the attention to my clit as he wraps his arms around my hips, sends me flying straight into my first climax.

  I’m flooded with relief before we’ve barely begun.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Doyle

  I slip the tip in only after I have my way with her, touching every part of her, lighting her up with need. Gauging her heat by the moisture between her legs.

  Immediately she pushes back. I should tell her how good she is. I wish her to know how fucking tight she feels as I push in deeper, inch by inch.

  Her tight cunt resists at first, so I massage her cheeks, her plump round cheeks, kissing them, kissing up her back, and pulling her hair so she’ll look at me. One more deep, hungry kiss allows me to push in even deeper.

  The tightness is so overwhelming I almost lose consciousness. It almost hurts, but then I’m in, all the way to the hilt. On my knees, the view is unbelievable.

  I almost forget—almost—that Maya is new at this.

  I slowly pull out, gritting my teeth at the will to hold it in. I push back in and slide out a few more times, and then… it’s time.

  I land a rough spank against the fullest part of her sweet rump.

  She shudders, then arches her back. I angle her hips as high as they can possibly go and spank her again. She grunts in surprise, and I hold her down by the neck while I plunge in deep, reaching around to thumb her clit with my other hand.

  I’m utterly lost in her heat, her sweetness, her tightness.

  Look back at me. Look back at me.

  When my girl does my bidding, I nearly explode. Her eyes look up, smoldering and innocent and wicked at the same time. Her hair is a mess from my snaking my greedy fingers through it with my soaked hand.

  The only sounds I hear are her breathing, her moans, and my grunts. My mind is calm, focused, and the only soundtrack in my head is music.

  The thought of the mess we’re going to make of each other tonight is giving me life.

  The rhythmic thrusting begins to grow, and I push in and pull out, faster, harder. Deep and slow, then quick and hard.

  All the while, her pussy seems to develop an understanding of what to do. Her sex walls clamp down around me, urging me onward. Sucking me in and spitting me out.

  I forget who I am.

  I forget where I came from.

  I forget all the terrible things that torment my mind daily.

  I only care about pleasing her and joining us together forever.

  Her gentle rocking and begging pussy finally push me to the brink. My balls tighten, I forget my own name, and my release rips out of me with a roar.

  I cum hard, with her name uttered hoarsely on my lips.

  “Maya.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Maya

  I freeze.

  He just said my name.

  I might cry.

  “Doyle!” I rasp.

  I expect him to panic and run, berating himself for breaking his vow of silence.

  But he doesn’t.

  What’s going to happen now?

  What happens is he simply releases my constraints, turns me over, and examines my wrists and ankles. He gently massages, kissing the spots where the straps bit into me.

  “I’m not hurt,” I whisper.

  The next word out of his mouth is “Mine.”

  His lips dab my wrists and face while he repeats his claim on me. “Mine.” “Maya.” “My Maya.” “All mine.”