Page 148 of Fire Island
Letting Firefly idle for a beat, I crowd her against the console and claim her mouth. She leans back, away from my touch. My brows drop, a low raw noise rattling up my throat. “Evie?”
“I’m driving, husband.” She smiles. Spinning in my hold, her hands settle on the wheel and throttle. Firefly pulls away from the jetty under the careful direction of her new captain. Once free of the shallows, Evie sends the throttle forward, and we cruise over the water. I fold myself around her, sinking my headinto her hair. But as I close my eyes, breathing her in, the engine quiets.
Raising my head, I check the gauges.
The revs are down.
The throttle is still in her grip as she kills the engine.
“What’s going on?”
Without a word, she slips away from the console and disappears from the cabin with the chair. Curious, I follow. I find her standing behind it, a line from the stern storage box in her hands.
Brown eyes burn into mine. “Sit.”
With a smile, I close the distance, stopping short at the chair. “Alright,” I say with a chuckle.
I sit and fine fingers take my wrists, moving them behind the back and tying them together. She pads round, coming to face me.
The knot loosens. I keep my hands where she left them, focusing on the most magnificent woman I’ve ever known. “Are y?—”
A finger presses over my lips, and she shakes her head. That finger drags its way to the opening of my shirt. She moves closer and I spread my legs, letting her into my space. Deft hands make quick work of the buttons, and my shirt hits the floor. Next the belt goes. Then the pants. Until I’m left in boxers and socks.
Tied to a fucking chair.
Evie sinks to her knees.
I clench my jaw, blood rushing its harried way through my body before plummeting south. She curls her hair around her hand, sweeping it to one side before looking up at me. Big brown eyes take me in, darker than the night sky. But now, there’s a fire that took her months to find. Then months more to get back, after...
And that fire currently burns for me.
Her lips part on a pant, hands walking up my thighs until they find their target, and my cock springs free. Elegant fingers curl around the base of it, and I let out a low moan, wishing my hands were free to fist her hair, to sink my swollen length to the back of her throat.
She studies me with darkened eyes before sliding me onto her tongue.
And . . .fuck.
Tongue swirling around my tip, she grazes her teeth over the sensitive skin before plunging me deep. My breaths heave in short choppy waves that sear.
Sucking her way back up, she trains her eyes to my face.
Fucking Christ.
My legs tremble.
Desperate to be free, to touch her, I tug at the rope binding my wrists together. It loosens, slipping from one wrist and dangling from the other.
Evie stills, as if she wants this moment of having me subdued on the chair to last.
So I stay put.
Closing my eyes, I grind my molars, my only salvation from the overwhelming need to haul her to her feet, spread those pretty thighs, and sink balls-deep into my incredible fucking wife.
I don’t move.
She grips me harder, ratcheting up the suction as a pretty little mewl slips around my damn cock.
Heat floods my body and I groan, every inch of me vibrating with soul-crushing need.
