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breaths against my nipples, making
them tighten into little buds. He gave each one a swift lick and
left them to harden further from the resulting chill as he
continued his progression up my body.
    He drove into me, burying himself deep inside. There
was no build-up, no warning. One minute I was wondering where he
was going to kiss me; the next he was thrusting into me, filling
me. A fraction of a second later, he slid almost entirely out and
drove home again. And again.
    He pulled out and sat up, then gripped my hips and
pulled me up onto muscular thighs. With my wrists and ankles bound
as they were, I was helpless to do anything except feel,
experience, explode with sensation as he glided into me.
    “I need you, Paige,” he breathed through clenched
teeth. “Need you like I need to breathe.”
    And I needed him, too. Needed this. For too long I’d
been using Stacey as an emotional crutch. She was the tie I used to
bind myself to Danny, when all along we should have been
together.
    He was bending over me again, covering me with his
body, stroking the heat in my body from the inside. He was loving
me, making love to me like he never had before. And in his kiss, I
could taste every regret, every single lonely moment.
    Soon, too soon, I was close to cumming. My release
was closing in like a geyser, the pressure building up to imminent
eruption. He must have known it, felt it somehow. He started
whispering into my ear, mostly incoherent words of
encouragement.
    When the first waves of ecstasy crashed down around
me, I could do nothing but shudder, straining against my bonds,
trying in vain to cling to Danny. He was driving into me again, his
hips pistoning against mine as he succumbed to his own orgasm. Then
he collapsed over me, his arms shaking with the effort to hold his
full weight off me.
    For several minutes, he lay over me, stroking my
face, my hair, my neck with a tender touch. One at a time, he
slipped a hand down each of my arms and released the cuffs. After
freeing my ankles, he curled over me, wrapping my body in his.
    “Don’t leave me, Paige.” His words were a whisper of
air against my skin. “I can be what you want.”
    I curled into him, memorizing the feel of his body
surrounding mine. “You’re everything I want.”
    And he was.

About the
Author
    Margo is a marketing specialist by day, and a writer
of erotic romance by night. When she’s not busy penning steamy
fantasies, she can be found man-watching on the beach. She is a
lover of shiny things and an avid collector of shoes, but her heart
will always belong to books.