Page 113 of Double Bucked

“Sweet as honey,” he says. “Won’t even need syrup for my pancakes.”

A breath of a laugh escapes me. “If I had my arms, I’d smack you.”

Suddenly, my hair is in his hands. A small cry leaves me as he grips me tight, pulling at my scalp.

“If you wanna be a brat, I’ll leave you here for your fiancé to find,” he growls. “Arms tied back. Legs spread. Pussy dripping. What d’you think he’ll do to punish a dirty slut like you?”

My breath is short and tight in my throat.

Ransom is enjoying his role a little too much. And, truthfully…

So am I.

My heart is racing in my chest.

“Please, don’t,” I beg, playing the part. “I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?” With my head yanked back, his lips touch the exposed skin of my throat. “I’ll hold you to that later.”

His hard cock nudges against my thigh. I wish he’d hold me to it now.

I want him inside of me so badly it’s a deep, painful ache. I came. Hard. But it wasn’t enough. It’s never enough. I need more. I need him.

But his fingers find the satin rope around my wrists. He pulls the quick-release knot, and I feel the threads flutter and slide down my wrists.

It means we’re done here.

“We better get down there,” Ransom says. His voice is lighter now. Playful. The Ransom I know. He gives my ass a small smack. “Before breakfast gets cold.”

But my throat is suddenly tight. Knotting. I can’t explain it, but I feel like if he pulls away, I might burst into tears.

“Kiss me first?” I ask.

His gaze meets mine. He must hear the tightness in my voice because I see surprise there, and then his eyes go soft. “Yes, ma’am,” he says. Gently, he cradles my face in his hand. He brushes his lips to mine and kisses me. Softly. Sweetly. Lovingly.

Not the dominant, dirty man he was moments ago.

Now, he’s Ransom again. My Ransom.

“Like that?” he asks.

I nod. “One more, please.”

A gentle smile unfurls on his lips. “Princess, I’ll kiss you until the stars fall outta the sky if you ask for it.”

His mouth is so sweet on mine—asking for nothing, demanding nothing, but pure love, given without strings.

My wrists are tingling where the rope once was. Slowly, I reach forward and touch Ransom’s chest. I flatten my palms on his bare skin.

I can feel it. His heart, strong and steady, like the beat of hooves against dirt. Pounding to meet my palm.

The tight knot around my throat slackens. I can breathe again.

“Okay,” I say. “I’m ready to eat.”

“Let’s go,” Ransom says. Then, before I can react, he stands and hoists me up, taking me over his shoulder.

36

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