How was it possible that it could be this good? This fucking good?

Bryan had literally taken one of my fantasies and decided to follow through with it. I was tied to his bed. He had a finger in my ass, working it back and forth, as he slapped my ass cheeks with his dick.

My eyes rolled back in my head.

Every doubt I’d had was still there, hovering, waiting in the back of my mind, but that fantasy, that incessant need for him had taken over again.

All I wanted now, right, now, in this moment, was to be his. His totally. My own person, but still his.

Was it so fucking wrong to want that?

To want that feeling of absolute trust, even though it was totally unattainable in every other sense? I couldn’t trust him with my emotions, with my heart, with my soul, but man, I’d trust him with my body.

He’d already proved he could handle it.

“You want this cock,” Bryan said, and it wasn’t a question.

“Please,” I said, managing not to stutter this time. It was a challenge—every streak of pleasure shook me to my core. “Please, please, please, please.”

“Talk me through it. Through that fantasy. Was it like this?”

“Yes,” I whispered. “One finger in my ass, and one working my clit, and your dick deep inside me. So deep.”

“Slow or fast?”

“Slow at first. So that I come while you’re just getting started. And then real fast.” I was breathless, speaking through my teeth, then exhaling, trying again. “I—I want it, Bryan. Don’t tease me.”

He plunged his thumb deeper, and I clenched around it.

“Fuck, that’s a tight asshole,” he said. “What would it be like to fuck it?” He let the thought hover between us. “Riley, where did I come in your fantasy?”

“In my pussy, then on my asshole, then a little on my back.”

“Fuck me,” he growled. “Slow at first, and deep.” That was almost to himself. He entered me, slowly, and I swallowed him up, my pussy hungry for him, already. He pressed into me, deep, and held himself there, his fingers working my asshole and my clit, just as I’d fantasized.

God, when he’d appeared in the bathroom, for a second I’d believed he was a figment of that fantasy. And then…

Bryan pulled out, slowly, achingly slowly, every ridge and vein pronounced against my walls. He was so slick with our fluids, he nearly fell out, but rammed himself deep again before he did.

“Oh my god,” I hissed. “Just like that.”

“Good,” he replied and did it again.

A slow burn. His fingers, his cock, his dirty mouth. It was too much for me. This fantasy made real for me, the first of its kind.

“Come for me,” he growled. “Come for me, Riley. I need to make good on that promise. I’m ready to come in your cunt, on your asshole, on the small of your back.”

The words shattered my last grip on reality. I streamed over the edge, into that pool of pleasure. Stroked, pulsing, breaking under the flow, pulled under, then lifted up again, higher, higher.

“Bryan,” I gasped, closing around him, again and again. “Bryan, Bryan, Bryan.”

“That’s it. That’s right. Come for me.”

I came down from the brink, got out of that pool and into a place of warm satisfaction.

“Now,” Bryan said, then started pumping into me. He pounded my pussy, until the headboard rattled, and I bit on my bottom lip to keep from screaming with every thrust. He was huge, filling me all over again, and driving me toward another peak that had nothing to do with my clit, and everything to do with his girth.

“Oh. My. God.”

“Fuck,” he growled. “You ready for this load, baby?”

“Yes, please,” I moaned. “Give it to me. I want it. Please.”

Bryan pulled his thumb out of my ass, then slapped both my ass cheeks and pulled them apart. He pounded into me, held himself in deep, pulsed inside me once. He pulled out and the warmth of his cum squirted across my asshole two more times, then one across my back.

He kept his fingers on my ass, digging into the meat, heaving great gulps of breath through his mouth. “Jesus. Fucking, fuck. Riley.” Slowly, he sat back.

I remained in place, still tied up and vulnerable. My body dripped. I was covered in him. Totally taken by him.

“Hold on a second,” he said, between great gasps for breath. He got off the bed, and his footsteps tracked away. He returned a moment later and swept a towel over my lower back and ass, then between my legs. He held it there for a second, then let go and came around to the front of the bed.

His fingers slipped on the knots, and he grinned at me, still in his work shirt, his pants gone, his cock still thick and wet from our sex. His thigh muscles ripples every time he moved, and I sucked on my bottom lip again.

Why was it like this with him?

Why did it have to be him? The one guy that I wanted more than anything—why him?

He untied me and I sat back on my heels. “Wow,” I managed.

“Wow,” he agreed. “Think you and I both need another shower.”

“Bryan—”

He tugged me to his body and kissed me on the lips, tugging on my chin with a finger, opening my mouth all the way to accept his tongue. I lost myself in his kiss all over again.

This is so wrong and so good. I can’t deal.

Finally, we broke apart. “I know,” he said, “I can see you’re scared on your face. It’s been like that since the first time. I get it, Riley. I get where you’re coming from. Just put it out of your mind for now. We’ll work this out. Come shower with me, now, and leave it until tomorrow.”

“But it won’t wait,” I said, softly. “We’re only making this worse, every time we touch. We’re only—Bryan, there are still so many things we haven’t talked about. Your name, for one. And what we’re going to do about this little thing we’ve got going on.”

He lifted me off the bed, and I let out a little squeal, clung to him.

“Stop talking about that shit,” he said. “We’re not doing it now. Tomorrow. Come with me.”

But my mind was already fixated on the points. On everything that could and surely would go wrong. On the fact that he hadn’t told me about his past, even though I’d opened up fully about mine.

Bryan walked me to his en suite bathroom and into the shower. He turned it on, tested the water with one hand, still holding me with the other arm, as if I weighed nothing. Then again, he was packing in the muscles department—maybe I was that light to him.

He walked me into the shower then sat me on the bench affixed to the one wall—crafted out of marble. The shower was a walk-in, huge, with four glass walls. I worked hard not to be too impressed. After all, money didn’t buy happiness.

Bryan undid the buttons of his shirt and stripped bare. He was as jaw-dropping as ever, the tattoos rippling atop his muscles, a smattering of golden pubic hair traipsing toward his cock. He’d gone soft, at last, but he was hardly smaller than I’d seen him erect.

He lifted the soap off the shower’s rack, worked it into a lather, then bent and washed me.

He washed my arms, my breasts, lifted me to my trembling legs and worked his hands over my ass, between them, washing my pussy thoroughly.

Another thrill of pleasure traveled down my spine, and I pressed myself into him again, my breath hitching.

Are you insane? You just established you need to talk before anything else can happen and you’re already wet for him again? What the hell is wrong with you?

“Fuck, Riley, you’re turning me on again, baby.”

I bit down on his pec and sucked it, kissed a line up to his throat and kissed it too. I pushed on his chest with both hands, and he walked backward for me, allowed me to shove him down onto that marble bench.

His eyes were ablaze again, his cock rising between his legs, stiff for me, wet from the water, this time.

There was no need for words. No need for anything but the water and our bodies.

I straddled him, and he held me by the hips, keeping me in place. Slowly, I lowered myself onto his dick, positioning it with my free hand. He entered me slowly, governed by the pace I set, and I gasped, slapping both hands to his neck, holding them there.

Our eyes met and didn’t part. Continuous eye contact, the emotion behind it. My heart skipped beats as he entered me, again, and again, and again.

This wasn’t fucking, this was something else, and it terrified me.

I was too lost in the moment to care.

“Riley,” he growled, as he grew impossibly thick inside me again. “I’m going to come again.”

“Come, please. I want it all. I want everything.” And I did. Not just the cum either.

He pulsed inside me, holding me still, now, and I thrust over the edge with him, closing tight again, releasing, closing.

“Keep looking at me,” he said, his eyes glazed, but still on mine. “Don’t you look away, Riley.” He grunted, groaned, held me there as he lashed my walls with his cum. “You’re mine.”

His.

“You’re mine,” I echoed his sentiment, and his gaze lit up hot.

I rested my forehead against his shoulder, slumping, my breasts brushing his strong chest, and my wet hair lying across his arm. We sat like that for what had to be a half an hour, until the water started cooling.

Finally, Bryan helped me up, set me on my feet, and adjusted the temperature. We washed quickly, got out and he dried me off with one of his fluffy white towels.

“I can do it, you know. I do have arms,” I said, trying to make a grab for the towel.

“I want to do it for you,” he replied, that sexy smile tugging at the corners of his lips again.

“Why?” I asked.

“Because I want to look after you, Riley.” He stopped drying me. He pinched my chin between his fingertips. “I don’t know why we met, what fucking twist of fate it was, but I’m glad it happened. I want to keep you safe. I want to own you every fucking night.”

“But –”

“In the morning,” he said, “we’ll talk about all the rest.” We walked through to his bedroom and I collected the towel we’d left on the bed, made for the door. “Where are you going?” he asked.

“To my room. Carly. I mean—”

He gave a brief nod, sniffed. “Right. Of course.”

“The morning?” I asked.

“Yes. After you’ve dropped Carly off at school. We’ll talk.”

I left his room behind, still sore from our lovemaking and the guilt that had taken seat in my chest and just wouldn’t leave.