My house smells like cocoa heaven. I close the front door. A barrel of fur crashes into my legs. I lean down and give Dixie a pat, but my stomach is already clenching at the scent.

A scent I’ve come to associate with sweetness, hunger, and misbehavior.

I make my way to the kitchen. She’s sitting on the counter, one leg crossed over the other, wearing striped knee-highs and a pleated skirt. Cupcakes and cookies fill trays and cooling racks.

She’s been busy.

Her hand swirls inside of a metal mixing bowl.

“I hope that’s not your fingers in the frosting?”

She gives a start—as if she didn’t know I were here.

As if she hadn’t heard my car, the front door, or Dixie going wild.

“You’re home.” She grins as she does every day when I get home. As though never a day I return is taken for granted.

And it never is by either of us.

“You’ve been baking.” I stride closer and peer at a tray of already-frosted cupcakes. “After baking all morning at work?”

“These are for you.” She sets down the mixing bowl and sucks her finger, before wiping her hand on a towel. “They’re chocolate with Amaretto frosting.”

I glance at the cupcakes again. Little brat. I don’t even like cake. Except, she has a way of combining all my favorite things, so I know if I remove just one wrapper from one little cupcake, there will be no stopping until I’ve had the whole damn tray.

Like how it is with her. One taste and I’ll gorge myself stupid.

My attention snakes back to her, sitting there innocently, as though that’s what she just happened to be wearing this afternoon.

Like she’s not a sneaky, little attention seeker.

She sucks her finger again, this time with her gaze fixed on me.

My breath catches full in my chest, and I stalk closer. “Have you been eating sweets all day, baby?”

Her shoulders give a little shiver of delight. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” I plant my hands on either side of her on the counter. “What kind of an answer is that to give me?”

“Sorry.” She shifts her backside on the counter. My horny, kinky girl is already squirming at the possibility of trouble. “Yes, I ate sweets all day.”

I raise my brow. “All day?”

She chews her lip. “I forgot about my sandwich.”

Forgot?

No damn way. She did not forget to eat the masterpiece of a multi-meat sandwich I got up early to make, so that my busy wife wouldn’t go unnourished.

I glance at the fridge then stride to it and tug open the door and shuffle through the shelves. “There’s no—”

Her laughter rings out.

“You little liar.” I turn around, but it’s too late.

She’s used the distraction to sprint out of the kitchen, and her laughter tinkles down the hall.

Anticipation twitches through me, but I collect myself and walk to the hallway. There’s no way she’s provoking me into running today.

I stare down the empty hall, my pulse quadrupling. “You know what happens when you make me chase you, don’t you?”

“Okay, I won’t run.” Her muffled voice sounds from the other end of the house.

I freeze, listening for her sounds, muscles clenching and tightening, half wanting her to disobey, and make me fight her for it.

But I hear nothing but silence.

I frown and walk down the hall.

Silence and Katie are incompatible. There hasn’t been a day since the one where I brought her home that this house has sat in sad, miserable quiet.

I stride down the hall, peering into my office, the first guestroom, then the second guestroom. There’s not a breath to be heard. I reach the master bedroom. Our bedroom.

“Katie?” My frown clamps harder. Even when she sleeps, she’s noisy and busy and impatient. Tossing and turning and muttering in her sleep until I pull her in close and rub her back until she relaxes.

I stalk to our bathroom. Empty. My pulse thuds. She’s here. I know she’s here, but not being able to find her is like a fist around my lungs.

“Katie.” I open the wardrobe then freeze and turn to the bed.

Our big, spacious bed.

I reach for the front of my pants. “Do you know what I’m doing right now?”

Movement shuffles.

I smirk but resist the urge to squat down. “I’m taking off my belt.”

And I do and wrap the leather in a loop.

Her soft gasp lets me know which side she’s under. The belt does it for her every time.

“If you come out right now, you won’t be in trouble.”

Lie. She’d be in less trouble. I’m too far gone to let her off gently.

“If that’s how you want to do this.” I sigh and crouch then flip the hanging cover up.

She squeals and scrambles toward the other side of the bed, but she’s too late.

I catch her ankle and pull. She slides out, wriggling like a cat. I straddle her thighs, keeping her trapped on her tummy, then grab her wrists and strap them at the small of her back with the belt and drag her to her feet.

“You should’ve come out when I gave you the chance.” I sit on the edge of the bed. “Come here.”

She gives me that look. That sulky look. As though she already knows my plan. That there will be some punishment to her punishments today.

I point at her.

Her gaze flies to my finger.

“Over my knee.”

She has the decency not to smirk and maneuvers over my lap with her hands belted behind her.

I guide her down and press one forearm to her upper back. Her muscles brace under my touch. I flip up her skirt.

Goddamn.

My breath hisses. A little rainbow thong that leaves her whole ass exposed. I don’t even need to pull it down.

I stroke one round, firm cheek.

She shifts against me. Her anticipations shivers under my palm. I know what she wants. I’ve learned the things she likes. She’s thinking about the short, sharp smacks I give her. Firm but not bruising, over and over, until her flesh is flushed and pink, and she’s shuddering and moaning and begging me to soothe it better.

But not today.

I lift my hand high and bring it down hard. The slap rings through the room. She shrieks and jerks, her body straining for the seconds the pain lingers, then she goes limp.

I rub her ass. “Shh.”

Heat radiates from the welt my hand has left. I hit her harder than usual but within her limits and not the way she gets off on.

Because for a moment, when she said she’d forgotten about her lunch, it felt as if she’d forgotten what we have now.

That she’s not alone.

That I’m not alone.

That we have each other to care for, and that means she always gets lunch, and I always get to come home to treats.

Her breath shudders.

“That’s all the punishment today, baby.”

I stroke the sore spot, but I love that mark. I love how it’s going to look when I’m fucking her. I love how it must feel for her.

And I love how every time she feels it, she’s going to be reminded that we both have exactly what we need.

I unbuckle her wrists and turn her over.

She sniffles.

“Did you miss me today while I was working?” I push the hair back from her face.

“Yes, Daddy.” She smiles. “I always miss you.”

I kiss her. Can’t help myself. Draw her up and kiss that adorable mouth.

She moans, and the tension winding in me breaks. I drag her back onto the bed then peel off my clothes.

Her clothes stay on. She knows better than to take off something I’m going to enjoy fucking her in—not without asking for my permission first, anyway.

I lift her t-shirt up to see her tits.

Her pink nipples stiffen. I suck one then the other. Her hips push against mine, her legs opening wider. My cock glides through her arousal. Her hands run up the outsides of my arms, skimming over me, and I could fall weak at that gentle touch, but I don’t.

I keep strong. Keep nudging her horny clit with my cock until she’s moaning and grinding.

“Clay?” Her horse whisper freezes me.

I stop instantly. She never calls me that in play.

She calls me by name when we make love.

When we’re snuggling and my cock works against her ass, it’s, “Oh, Clay.” And when I wake up and she’s sliding down the sheets, looking up at me before sucking my cock, it’s, “Good morning, Clay.”

“What’s wrong, honey?” I look down at her. Oh, god, did I actually smack her too hard?

She stares up at me. “I just wanted to ask you to do something for me.”

I let out a breath. Sure. Easy. I’d do anything she wants. “Yes?”

She blinks fast. “Don’t pull out anymore.”

My head goes quiet.

Silent.

My chest gets tight. We talked about this. She wanted to go off contraception after our wedding, then wait “for the right time.”

So I’ve been coming all over my pretty wife for months.

I’d never get tired of it, but now she’s offering me so much more.

“Really?” The word scrapes my throat.

“Yes.” She smiles and lifts her hips, rubbing that wet pussy on me.

I growl and grab her waist. “Ask for what you want properly.”

Her eye’s go wide.

My heart booms. Lucky she used my name to ask me, because if she did what I’m asking her to do now, during play, I wouldn’t have believed her.

“Come inside me, Daddy.”

I groan and shove my cock into her. Her heat clutches me, and her back arches. I hold on to her waist and kiss her. Her tongue moves against mine, and I kiss her as desperately as my cock plunges into her pussy.

I’m going to hold on to her so tight, fuck her so hard, come in her so deep, she’ll be knocked up first try.

Her walls get firmer around me. I know that feeling. I break the kiss and push one of her knees up, angling myself in her cunt, and then it happens—she screams and arches and spasms around me.

Clenching around my cock until I’m joining her there.

I thrust again—hard. Deep. All the fucking way. And come.

Fill her with all I am and all I have.

I collapse against her. She wraps her arms around me.

We roll to the side.

Her fingers run through the back of my hair.

She whispers against my temple. “I love you, Clay.”

I squeeze her with all my strength, and for once, there’s a prickle in my eye after sex. I don’t let it out. But I could. I hold her closer.

Because we’re both everything we want to be together and all that we actually are. Strong and invincible.

Human and real.