Page 109 of Insta Bride

Kye nuzzled my neck while I watched the eyes of my friends. Yes, he was slowly winning them over.

As for me? I was already gone.

Trusting Kye Branson might be the worst mistake in my life, but I was about to double-down.

“Elena, did you know your ex was working for Softli?” His question had been one I’d been racking my brains over since last night.

“No. We don’t keep in touch.”

“That’s my girl,” he said, sending shivers down my spine each kiss around my sensitive neck. “Then, can we please agree your ex set us up? Can we agree Bree should have confirmed we were okay with her version of a joke? And, for the love of everything I want to do to you, can you please ask your friends to leave so I can take you to bed?”

“What if I don’t want to?” Our banter was back, and so was the wriggle in my hips. Damn, he was hard.

“Good night, ladies.” I squealed as Kye flung me over his shoulder and started jogging to our bedroom. “Lock the door on your way out.”

“What if we don’t want to.” Olivia joked.

“Just don’t call the police when she starts screaming. I might not be the Almighty, but sometimes Elena gets us confused.”

“I deserve to be punished,” Kye said, tossing me down on the bed.

“I agree, but how am I going to punish you without losing out on my fun.”

“Hmm,” he mused, linking his hands under his head and jutting out his hips. “How can my wife punish me, but getting her own thrill.”

“I didn’t say anything about thrills. I want satisfaction.”

“Then do it.” Kye had a magnetism when we were flirting with intent. His eyes flashed with a wicked smile that made my clothes dissolve. “Whatever you want or need to do to get satisfaction, do it.”

“But what if you’re not satisfied?” I had ideas. But would Kye allow me to be the one in control? I knew how it felt to be helpless, tied. He’d used it to teach me about trust. If I could trust him to tie me up, if I could trust him to bring me pleasure without being able to stop him—if I could trust him with my body completely at his mercy, he wanted me to trust him with my heart.

“Baby, I’m married to you. I’m satisfied.”

“Really? So all those nights on the island when you slept behind me—you were satisfied?”

“Ergh, don’t remind me.”

“What color were your balls?”

“They’d given up being blue and turned fucking gangrene.”

“Hmm,” I started humming as I removed each of his shoes and socks—pressing down on his chest when he tried to help. I allowed him to raise his hips so I could remove his black work pants, and I appreciated the help when he removed his black shirt without needing to undo buttons.

Every time I saw him, I had the same reaction. Gut punch, butterflies and a need to taste him. Each time I saw him naked, it hit me as if it was the first. This beautiful man was in my bed, in my arms, and wanted me.

I picked up his clothes and walked over to his closet, throwing them on the floor before taking one of his belts and two ties that I hated. His eyes widened and erection started to salute as I looped one tie around his left ankle, and tied it to the the straps still attached to the bed leg.

“Babe?”

“Did I say you could speak?” I repeated the same with the other leg. “I’m wearing your sweater without permission.”

“Either ask for permission, or take it off.”

“Make me.”

He wriggled to a seated position but laughed when he couldn’t hold his perfect abs long enough, collapsing back with me straddling on top of him. Only one of us still fully clothed.

“Maybe a girl needs to take care of her own needs.” I wriggled out of his sweatpants and tossed aside his sweater. Still straddling Kye, I tightened his belt around both wrists and fastened it to the iron bedhead.

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