“Mom!” Bella hollered from the kitchen table. “Can we have more waffles?”

Heather looked up from what she was doing, smiled, and answered, “On it, Bells. Hey, Matty. Chocolate chip coming up!”

Molly scooted next to her. “Can I watch?”

“Sure, sweetie. It’s really simple. First, I make the batter and then use a measuring cup to scoop it onto the waffle iron. That’s when I add the extras. Choco-chips for Matty, blueberries for you, and raisins for Bella. Then I close the lid and wait for the green light to tell me it’s ready.”

“That’s so cool,” Molly mumbled. “My daddy needs this. He says pancakes are getting old. Isn’t that silly?”

“Waffles aren’t as messy if you have a system.”

The green light on the twenty-dollar kitchen gadget signaled that Matty’s waffle was ready. She opened the lid, and Molly said, “Wow.”

“Just like magic,” Heather kidded. “Only with electricity, a gadget, and a waffle batter recipe.”

Domineau staggered into the kitchen looking like a refugee in need of fresh clothes and a shower. She’d slept on the sofa downstairs after refusing to take one of the empty guest rooms.

“Coffee?” she asked in a gravelly voice.

Assuming that a coffee press was too complicated for the morning the other woman was having, Heather pointed at the coffeemaker. “Pods are in the drawer underneath. Try the Death Wish. You’ll love it.” She also pointed at the cabinet overhead. “Mug to match if you care.”

Domineau glowered and rubbed a hand over her face. Then Molly giggled, and her whole demeanor changed.

“Is that Marielle D’Alessandro I hear laughing behind my back?” Her voice was silly and lighthearted.

“Not behind your back, Rina,” Molly teased. “To your face! Ah-ha-ha!”

Heather wondered for a second if she was on a hidden camera show when the two females rushed at each other.

“Morning monster hugs! Grroar!” Domineau hooted. She picked Molly up and swung her around while they laughed and hugged.

What the hell was happening? She smiled bigger and bigger as she watched the two get loved up.

Within moments, Matty rushed into the kitchen.

“Papacito,” Domineau exclaimed. “How’s it hanging, bud?”

The two old friends performed a speedy handshake fist bump exploding thing and exchanged some words in Spanish.

“You slept in your clothes,” the little guy chided in a stern voice. “Kiki says that means no sleep.”

“Your mom’s a troublemaker,” the tall, smirking woman drawled. “And I wouldn’t have had to sleep in my clothes if you three hadn’t made me promise to stay.”

Bella snuck next to Heather and reached for her hand. She looked down at her precious girl and smiled. Matty’s happiness was important to Bella.

Matty hooted. “You wanted to stay!”

“Yeah? Well, grr. Shaddup!” Domineau chuckled. “Now scram, you three. I need coffee, and you guys need to finish breakfast. Right, Heather?”

Molly and Matty scooted back to the table. Domineau chose a coffee pod and started the machine.

“Mommy?”

“Hmm?”

“Can I have a hug?”

Heather dropped to a knee and wrapped her daughter in a hug. She kissed her face and held it in her hands. “I love you, Bells.”

“I love you,” Bella murmured. “When’s Daddy coming home? I miss Georgie.”

“Aw, sweetie, now come on. Daddy just left for work, so we won’t see him again until dinnertime. And Georgie is fine. He needed some shots, and then Daddy had him sleep in the kennel overnight so he could get a bath and a doggie haircut today. I hope you’re not worried about him. You know he gets the red carpet treatment.”

“But what if he misses me?”

“Bella, he’s okay. Daddy is right there.”

“Promise?”

“Yes. Pinky swear.”

They hooked pinkie fingers and rubbed their noses together.

Crisis managed, Bella ran off to be with her friends.

Domineau clutched Brody’s Death Wish coffee mug and silently watched Heather’s interaction with Bella. “What’s her deal?”

Heather weighed her options. Tell Domineau now or wait till the shit hits the fan?

Her jaw clenched. The shit might never fly, but that didn’t mean some payback wasn’t in order. Vengeance executed on behalf of a traumatized kid was worth the price.

“Stephanie thinks we need to have Bella’s back in a unique way.”

Domineau sipped her coffee. “By we, do you mean Justice?”

“Not the way you’d think. I’m talking about the ladies of Justice. This is a girls’ thing. No men needed or necessary. I think we’re fully capable of handling this.”

“Ah, I see. So tell me what constitutes unique in your world.”

She snorted inelegantly. Matty heard and looked her way, but when she didn’t meet his gaze, he went back to the girls.

“Well, Mrs. Dane suggested something akin to scorched earth on general principle. I’m still thinking about it although I will admit my tendency is to terrorize rather than destroy. Fear, real fear can mess with a person’s head.”

This time, Domineau snorted. “You don’t have to convert me. I’m a charter member of the haunt you to your dying day fan club.”

“After the wedding, if she’s still struggling, we’ll talk. Okay?”

“You know I’d kill for that kid. We all would. Bella is special. She matters, Heather. Big time.”

“God, I know,” she replied. “Sometimes it takes a town or a village, or a compound full of people.”

Domineau nodded and took two hefty gulps of coffee. “By the way, different subject, but thanks for letting me use you guys as a security blanket for this damn costume thing.”

Heather laughed off the thanks. “Domineau. Jeez Louise, girl. It’s dress-up. That’s all. You don’t need our help.”

“You say that as though you think I’ve ever even one day in my life dressed as a princess.”

“Not even as a kid?”

“Not that I remember. Have pictures from when I was the same age as those brats.” She snickered with a head nod at the kids across the room. “Raggedy Anne, the Flintstones, and Cat in the Hat. Then an ice hockey player and a pencil.”

“A pencil?” Heather laughed. Domineau shrugged, and she could tell how hard it was for her to walk down memory lane, so she offered some support. “I may go to hell for divulging my daughter’s confidence, but you should know that Molly is over the moon about you two playing dress-up. She told Bells that it’s nice to have a girl to do stuff with.”

Domineau stared into the mug in her hands. “I’m in over my head.”

That was quite an admission, but oddly, one that Heather understood. “Been there, done that,” she told her with a gentle squeeze of Domineau’s arm. “Bella burst into my life like a sudden summer storm. I was shocked, unprepared, and without an umbrella. It was sink or swim from the first moment.” She glanced at the child she loved with all her heart. “I think we’ve done okay, and just to be clear, I started with no idea what the F to do, and that feeling continues to this day. I just get up every morning and love her as hard as I can. Everything else will take care of itself.”

“Does Brody mind? That she identifies with you and not her biological mom?”

“Tracey wasn’t a mom. She was a biological necessity. There was no love lost there, and the woman gave up any forbearance she was entitled to when she took that poor baby off the grid and hooked up with a cult of crazies. Domineau,” she gravely murmured, “the child was so confused and messed up that she wouldn’t or couldn’t acknowledge her name. Bella was her choice, but Mia is her birth name.”

“Oh, shit, I didn’t know that. Poor kid. What you describe is pretty fucked up.”

“Yes, it was, and the answer to your question is this—Brody was prepared to take his lumps if a kid was the deal breaker. He’s such a stand-up guy that he was willing to deny his own needs and put his baby girl first. Those feelings don’t turn me off. Not at all. They make me trust—not just love him. Any man who would do that for his kid, well, you feel me, right?”

Domineau nodded.

“So for him, all he cares about is that his girls are happy. We’re a family. Does that sound a little like Rafe?”

“The biological other thing rings a bell. Nobody can say he wasn’t honest. He wanted to be a dad. A relationship was the deal breaker.”

“Because he can only love you. Am I right? Molly said something like that.”

“So he says,” Domineau muttered.

“Hey,” Heather murmured softly. “Do you love him?”

“I’ve always loved him. Even when I didn’t. It’s not him. It’s me. Family has a kiss of death ring to it. Know what I mean?”

“Have we met?” Heather scoffed. “Lady, I was the poster child for what a happily-ever-after denier looked like. And it didn’t matter that I came from a great family. What mattered was being emotionally shattered. Cut yourself a break. Being human isn’t a curse. It’s okay to have feelings—strong feelings. And trust Rafe. He’d surrender his right arm for you if he had to.”

Jace walked into the Marquez kitchen in time to find Sophie and her mom giggling over whatever was on Sophie’s phone. He didn’t need a guidebook to know it had to be pictures of Sophie on the mechanical bull at Pete’s.

He went to Sophie for a good morning kiss. He stopped to say hello on his way to work.

“Mrs. Marquez,” he said with a deferential nod at Sophie’s mom. “Is Mr. Marquez around? I promised to look into a design thing he inquired about and have some answers for him.”

At seven in the morning, Ashleigh Marquez was still in her comfy clothes. He was around her enough to recognize her morning routine. Sophie teasingly insisted her mother got up every morning and started her day with naked Tai Chi on the terrace. When it came to the Marquez women, it was impossible to tell what was real and what was potential bullshit because all of them were a tad bit wild, hilariously funny, and endlessly up to something. There was just enough possibility that Sophie was serious, so he avoided glancing at the terrace in the early mornings—just in case.

Today, her uniform consisted of a bright red kimono robe with a sash wrapped several times around her slim figure and outrageous slippers sporting black feathers. Her signature blond tresses were gathered into a sloppy mess that was held in place with black chopstick looking things.

“Cristián and Matt are out in the desert blowing things up.”

Another thing the Marquez women were known for was their snark. Nobody delivered dry, pithy eyebrow-raising snark like they did.

He countered with a chuckling joke. “Ah, damn. Wish I’d known. Have a pair of bowling shoes that would be great to pack with explosives.”

Sophie laughed merrily and stroked his arm. “You and Dad are gonna get along just fine.”

He kissed her again because why the hell not?

“Where’s my boy? The lazy lad sleeping in this morning?”

His gorgeous, loving fiancée wrapped her arms around his waist and cuddled close.

“He’s teething. Bottom front. Miserable night. I rocked him for hours and rubbed his gums.”

He’d read up on teething. His little guy was probably wondering why his mouth hurt. If it were him, he’d be in a bad mood too. Toothache pain was a special kind of hell.

“What about you?” he quietly asked.

Ash squeezed his forearm before melting away to leave them alone.

“Well, luckily, my boss doesn’t flinch when I take half a day. Mom is on Teo watch, and I’m going back to bed. Wanna tuck me in?”

“Are you sure your dad is occupied elsewhere? I really don’t need him to find me creeping out of your bedroom. Not after that business with your mom’s bathtub.”

“We’re engaged. Surely, that implies a bit of leeway. That and the fact this isn’t 1950.”

“Tell that to your parents, my parents, Uncle Ed or rather Father Eduardo, and the entire Catholic Church.”

“Why, Monsieur Delacroix,” she purred in perfect French, “I do believe you’re trying to make an honest woman of me.”

“Think that if you want, mon coeur. The truth is, I’m just looking out for my balls. Your papa very clearly described what he will do to mine if you aren’t treated like a princess, and as you know, a princess gets the royal treatment.”

“A princess, you say?” She wiggled against him. “Well, if that’s the case, I command you to tuck me in.”

She squealed with surprised laughter when he picked her up in his arms and carried her from the kitchen. Ash was in the living room watching morning TV. She looked up and smiled when he swept by with her daughter in his arms.

“Pardon me, ma’am, but your daughter has demanded that I tuck her in.”

“Second door on the right,” his future mother-in-law drawled.

He kept marching until they were in her room. Jace kicked the door shut. Sophie was wearing a self-satisfied smirk. Her adorable smugness needed a response.

With a hefty heave-ho, he launched her from his arms and watched her flail wildly as she sailed up and then dropped like a rock on her bed. Her sprawl revealed pinkish baby doll pajamas beneath her short terry cloth robe.

He swooped in, and she laughed while vainly trying to kick him away. He had the benefit of surprise to keep the upper hand.

Swatting her foot away, he grabbed her ankle and yanked. She giggled, flopped back, and tried to roll. He had no trouble getting the robe off while she squirmed and twisted. It wasn’t too unlike undressing the baby.

When she was down to her pjs, he shoved his arm under her waist and pulled her up to the pillows. Then he flung the covers over her still wiggling body.

His He-Man antics had Sophie rolling with laughter. He went for maximum overkill by fisting her hair, pulling her head back, and kissing her with enough intensity to make her pliant.

“There, tucked in,” he murmured close to her mouth. “Now be a good girl and lie down.”

Her smile made him the happiest man on the planet.

“Okay.”

That was it. Just okay.

She stretched and curled. He settled the soft blanket around her. After a series of yawns, she looked at him. “Will it always be this way, Jace?”

“What do you mean?” He swept stray hair off her face and smiled lovingly.

“You know, happy and fun. I don’t just love you, ya know.”

He knew where she was going and returned her smile. “I like you too, jelly bean.

“I didn’t know,” she said on a deep yawn, “that liking someone could feel so right.”

Jace kissed her forehead as exhaustion from soothing a teething baby claimed her. After watching her until she slumbered deeply, he started to get up, but his eyes were drawn to a cluster of pictures on her nightstand. Some were framed, and others jammed into the corners and under the frame’s rim.

Among the family shots was a small artists’ card from the Eiffel Tower. He’d noticed the picture before but hadn’t given any thought to what it signified. It just seemed odd to him because she never mentioned being in Paris, and with him being a dual French and American citizen, you’d think she’d mention it if she’d experienced one of his homeland’s premier icons.

Turning before quietly leaving her, he blew a kiss to his slumbering fiancée. “Sleep well, my beautiful love.”

Meghan awoke after a miserable night to the smell of cinnamon and coffee. She yawned and sat up, scraping ringlets of hair off her face. Her husband stood across the room watching her. A wave of anxiety about how selfishly and horribly she’d behaved last night swamped her emotions. Her mouth began to tremble, and tears welled in her eyes.

“Alex,” she croaked, “I …”

“Good morning, love. I’ve brought you something to eat. Carmen reports that our babies are fat and happy, and that they survived the night in one piece.”

Unlike their foolish mama, she thought. Meghan studied her husband. He was smiling, sort of. He was also dressed although not wearing shoes or socks. She chewed on her lip. Was she in trouble?

He held her eyes and extended his hand. A cannonball of nerves exploded inside. His vibe was hard to miss. This was her Beast in all his quietly dominant glory.

Sliding from the bed, the first thing that struck her was that she was naked.

Okay. She could do this. Excruciatingly aware of her boobs and ass, she tried to walk with confidence. She caught Alex’s small smile. He taught her to stand proud and strong, and not be full of doubt and a warped sense of her physical being, but that didn’t make it any easier—not at this moment.

She wanted to try to explain why she’d wandered so far from the reservation last night. Not that her words would be coherent or make much sense.

Placing her hand in his waiting one, he guided her the last few steps. Nervousness caused her to avoid his gaze. If he spanked her, it wouldn’t be a surprise. The horrible moment from the night before when he asked if she’d had enough took center stage in her head. Her eyes darted to his face.

Finding nothing but love in her husband’s eyes calmed her considerably. Maybe he’d give her a chance to explain and apologize.

Alex reached for one of her robes. He held it open so she could slip the silky, cool teal on. His hands moved her tumbling mess of hair and adjusted the garment till it hung right. Moving in front of her, he picked up both ends of the robe’s sash and crisscrossed the silk across her chest before loosely tying the sash.

He took half a step back and subjected her to an inspection. When he took her left hand and raised it to his mouth, she noted her trembling fingers. His eyes held hers as he placed a soft kiss on her knuckles, right atop her wedding bands.

She stilled. Something important was happening that she had to pay attention to.

The small table where they sometimes took a coffee break held a large serving tray. The stacked covered plates looked to her like a room service delivery. Surprised, she blurted a question.

“Was Carmen up extra early?”

Alex’s quick sneer and snort took her by surprise. “No. I’m fully capable of taking care of my wife without an assist.”

Shit. His prideful boast was so Alex, but it also reminded her that she was a complete failure in this department. He was lucky if she managed to make him toast without setting the kitchen on fire.

She couldn’t help the way her shoulders slumped and her head hung. You’d think that in light of the fact that she was spoiled and coddled, the least she could do was behave.

“Have a seat, wife,” her Beast said. The “listen up” growl reminded Meghan that she was still on his naughty list.

Without thinking, she took a step toward the seat only to have her husband’s hand block her.

“No, Meghan. You’ll sit here.” He waved to a nearby wood stool that Drae made to Alex’s specifications. She cringed. For all intents and dominant purposes, the damn wood object was her time-out chair. Something every wife needed, right?

Feeling dreadful, she dropped onto the stool and hid her face. “Can we talk, please?” she begged.

He ignored the question and sat at the table. With somber flair, he shook out a cloth napkin and draped it on her lap. When she looked down, the sight of her feet, one atop the other, seemed like something a bad kid would do. She slid her feet flat on the floor and sat straighter.

“One vegetarian, gluten-free, multivitamin with something called a blend for women’s vitality.” Alex chuckled more to himself than to her. He passed a tiny dish from one hand to the other and held it up. “Take your vitamin like a good girl.” The teeny tiny hint of laughter in his voice and the look in his sexy brown eyes told her she wasn’t about to be handed her ass.

She took the vitamin off the dish, held it, and looked at him. There was no way she was putting the massive tablet in her mouth without something on hand to wash it down.

Without missing a beat, he produced a large glass of orange juice. Others might be satisfied with a small juice glass, but not her. The fresh squeezed OJ and pear juice combination that the natural foods market carried was her current addiction.

But he wouldn’t let her take the glass. “Nuh-uh,” he said in a commanding voice. “Hands in your lap unless you need them.”

Oh, good lord, she thought. He’s going to feed me.

Meghan swallowed when the heavy weight of realization hit her full force. This was an in-your-face lesson in submissive behavior. That was why she was naked. That was why she was on a stool.

Alex was in control. Her choice, not his. This was what she signed on for, and this was what she stomped all over last night.

Guilt slammed into her. It must have shown on her face because he nodded but didn’t smile.

That was all it took for her to completely surrender and accept the consequences of her rash behavior.

It wasn’t Alex imposing these conditions. This was what she expected and what she needed. He was only doing what her willing submission demanded he do. The admission comforted her shattered emotions.

Sitting straighter on the unforgiving wood stool, she calmly dropped the vitamin on her tongue and waited with her mouth open. He was right there with the glass, tilted it until a good splash hit her tongue, and then backed off. Meghan threw her head back to help the ridiculously large tablet move into her throat and then swallowed the chilled juice. She made a smacking noise of satisfaction when she finished and swept her tongue around her lips.

Dutifully laying both hands in her lap, she took her recovered confidence, wrapped it around herself like a mental security blanket, crossed her legs, and let him be her guide and teacher.

It was a breakfast to remember. While she perched on the hard stool, he fed her a veritable feast. His scrambled eggs were fluffy and gooey, the way she preferred. The meatless sausage patties that he hated and she loved were cut into perfect bites and dipped in a catsup and hot sauce mixture before being dropped onto her tongue. Instead of boring toast, he went with one of her ma’s signature recipes that she shared with Carmen—an Irish crumpet slathered with cinnamon-infused local honey.

As he fed her and even wiped her mouth, he talked with a gentleness in his voice. There was compassion and also authority. His words were uncompromising but oddly soothing as he spelled it out.

He wasn’t trying to take away her freedom to choose.

He wasn’t trying to control who she was.

He wasn’t trying to clip her wings or make her someone she wasn’t.

He carefully pointed out that the power she yielded wasn’t surrendering. It was something much, much more, and it came with an expectation of boundaries. The boundaries that she asked for were framed with consequences. Consequences she not only understood but, at times, had demanded.

When he solemnly reminded her that in order for him to meet her needs, he had to trust that she knew what she was doing, Meghan could not have loved him more.

Alex wasn’t just her Beast. He was the man she trusted with her life and the lives of their children. The trust between them was strong, but her acting out, regardless of the reason, took aim directly at that trust.

“Denying you last night almost broke me, Meghan. Please don’t make me do that again.”

Without hesitating, she slid off the stool and went to her knees. She hung her head and composed herself. Alex stroked her hair.

She didn’t apologize. In fact, she didn’t say anything. They weren’t having a discussion. He was teaching her a lesson, and not to belabor a point, but he hadn’t given her permission to speak.

“Have you had enough?” he gruffly asked. The deep timbre of his voice asking the same question from last night made an unwelcome and damning blush rush into her cheeks.

Her chin lifted, and she met his piercing gaze. He was asking not just if she ate enough, but he was also asking if she’d gotten the message. Not to mention he was rubbing her nose in the mess she made last night.

“Yes. Thank you, Alex.” She briefly dipped her head in a deferential way.

Her eyes were down, so she saw when his hand cupped the bulge she was just noticing. The movement made her heart jolted as her pulse started pounding. She sought his eyes.

His gaze boldly raked her. Meghan tried unsuccessfully to throttle the intensifying current of aching desire racing through her body. Alex smirked knowingly.

What happened next took the submissive lesson to a very sexy eleven.

“Last night, you took your pleasure with no regard for my own. This morning, it’s my turn.”

An excited, involuntary gasp from her made his eyes darken with increasing desire.

He smirked. “Take off the robe and get on the bed. Ready yourself to be fucked.”

It would be unseemly of her to act thrilled with his command, so she went with option B that was a laughable approximation of a subdued, obedient wife submitting to her domineering husband.

Meghan rose from her knees and removed the robe he’d put on her. She draped it over her arm and handed it to him.

Their bed was unmade and rumpled, so she lay down and kicked the covers out of the way.

Alex stalked her to the bed; his eyes devoured her naked body.

“Bend those knees and spread your thighs.”

Well, at least he knew how to give directions. She complied and tried very, very hard not to grin.

“Excuse me, madam, but I believe you were told to ready yourself.”

Gulp. Touching herself while he did the same was fun, but her confidence lagged in the face of a beast with crossed arms. The smolder in Alex’s expression told her he wasn’t going to take no as an answer.

“Meghan,” he growled.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she feathered her fingers from throat to thighs before touching herself in the most intimate of ways. She could hear his heavy breathing.

“Because you know what you did and understand what’s about to take place, I’m going to let you hide your eyes this time,” he grumbled.

The sound of his husky growl close to her ear triggered her trembles. “Are you wet enough for my cock, or should I lube up?”

In a shaky voice that surprised her, she replied, “I’m ready.”

The sound of a zipper made her breath catch. She opened her eyes to watch Alex strip naked. It dawned on her that he hadn’t bothered with socks and shoes because he had planned to take her this way. A shiver of excitement made her quiver.

“Don’t stop just because your eyes are open,” he growled through a deep chuckle. “Keep those fingers busy. I’m taking you for my pleasure. Whether you come or not is not the issue.”

Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. The first time she experienced what Alex called being taken for his pleasure, she nearly passed out from dehydration from the number of times she came while he pounded her. The way her body was desperate and aching for a replay told her no additional lubrication was necessary.

With cat-like agility, he climbed on the bed and sat back between her open thighs.

“We start like this because I want to see your guilty eyes as my cock claims you. Tell me your safe word.”

What? Safe word? Was he kidding or trying to intimidate her? They used made-up phrases for the non-sexual stuff but through trial and the occasional error concluded that the stoplight colors were best.

“Um, red. Red means stop.”

He moved closer, lifted her ass with both hands, positioned his cock, and went for it. She grunted over and over as her husband’s ferocious manhood pushed deep into her body. When he bottomed out, she barely had time to catch her breath before he unleashed a fucking that transported her to another place.

“Alex,” she groaned. Her body shook uncontrollably. “Please. May I?”

He groaned before chuckling. “Punishing you with my cock will never work. Your pussy is far too greedy.”

Yeah, whatever. She needed an answer, and she needed that answer now before it was too late. Although she suspected from the tingling marching along her spine that she’d already passed the point of no return.

“Oh, god, Please,” she whimpered. “Please.”

Stroking with a ferocity that shook Meghan to her core, he gave permission a few seconds before her body exploded.

Everything went haywire. Her muscles locked and quivered. A veritable river of hot liquid seeped from her body. She groaned until all the oxygen in her lungs was spent.

But he wasn’t finished and didn’t stop.

Having lost control of her body, she was easy to turn over and move into the position he wanted. This was Alex’s power move. Fucking her from behind afforded his large cock a range of motion that never failed to please. It wasn’t always easy for her injured Beast to flex his hips when they did it missionary style. But a doggie position was a whole different ball game.

Whack!

She jolted when his big hand smacked her ass.

Another whack. Only, this time, she groaned with pleasure.

“That’s what I wanted to hear,” he bragged with a sexy laugh. His hands pulled her butt cheeks apart. Before she knew what was happening, a plug was in her ass.

He followed up the butt plug with a delicious spanking.

And then he was inside her, and holy hell, she melted down in record fashion. The plug made them both moan. He bit her shoulder and pumped with real might.

Over and over, deep and shallow, he fucked her receptive body. She whimpered softly, begged for all he had, asked him to forgive her, and then drifted away on a second climax that left her wiped out.

When it was time for him to come, he bellowed like an animal. The primal grunt each time his cock bottomed out made her quiver. The grip he had on her hips was going to leave marks, but she didn’t care. All she wanted right then was for his pleasure to be complete.

She felt his cock throbbing. His guttural, “Ahh,” as he emptied inside her was completely satisfying.

Afterward, as a reminder of what just took place, he withdrew and left the bed. Meghan rolled on her side and smiled at him. He was standing next to the bed staring at her. With half a smirk, she purred, “Thank you, Alex.”

He sniggered. “Even though the pleasure was not all mine, you pleased me greatly, wife.” He held her eyes. “Are we on the same page, baby?”

“Yes.” She laughed. “Page two hundred fifty-four. Thou shalt not top. Ever.”

“Next time,” he drawled, “I won’t be so nice.”

“I know. Message received. May I get up?”

“No,” he told her. “You lay there and think about how lucky you are. Another man would have made that very unpleasant for you.”

He hurriedly got dressed, this time with socks and shoes, then piled the breakfast dishes on the tray.

“I’m going to take this downstairs and dream about the day our dumbwaiter is finally working. You may wash up and get dressed, but the butt plug stays. A reminder. I’ll remove it before we go anywhere.”

At the door, he juggled the tray, and said, “After we get the twins, my folks are coming over. Apparently”—he chuckled—“it’s a beautiful day for a walk and a visit with us, my folks, and the Danes.”