Epilogue
Evelyn
A few months later ...
T he silk bindings around my wrists and ankles pull taut as Zeke spreads me wider, leaving me completely exposed on the king-sized bed.
Early morning sunlight filters through gauzy curtains, casting everything in a dreamy glow.
Waves lap gently against the stilts of our overwater villa, a soothing rhythm that matches my ragged breathing.
“So beautiful,” Zeke murmurs, his dark eyes roaming over my naked body with possessive heat. “All mine.”
I arch toward him, desperate for more contact, but the restraints hold me firmly in place. This position—spread-eagled and bound—leaves me completely at his mercy. The thought sends a fresh wave of arousal through me.
“Please,” I whisper, though I’m not even sure what I’m begging for.
He smiles, that devastatingly sexy half-smirk that never fails to make my heart race. “Patience, love.” His fingers trail down my inner thigh, barely touching. “We have all day.”
The promise in his voice makes me shiver. We arrived at this paradise yesterday—a surprise trip he’d planned without telling me. After months of stress and vigilance, having this time alone feels almost surreal.
His mouth follows the path of his fingers, pressing open-mouthed kisses along sensitive skin. Then he wraps his lips around the softest part of my thigh, before he playfully bites my flesh. The slight sting makes me gasp.
“Like that?” He looks up at me through dark lashes. He loves marking my body. “You’re already so wet for me.”
As if to prove his point, he slides one finger through my folds, gathering moisture. The touch is feather-light, nowhere near enough pressure where I need it most. I try to push against his hand, but the bindings prevent any movement.
“Zeke.” My voice comes out breathier than intended. “Don’t tease.”
He chuckles darkly. “But teasing you is half the fun.”
To demonstrate, he traces my entrance with the tip of his finger, never quite pushing inside. The careful control he maintains—even now, when I can see how hard he is—drives me wild.
“You’re cruel,” I accuse, but we both know I love when he takes his time like this.
“Cruel would be leaving you wanting.” He drops a kiss just above my clit, making me jerk in my bonds. “I plan to give you everything you need. Eventually.”
Before I can respond, he closes his mouth over one nipple, sucking hard enough to make me cry out. His tongue flicks against the sensitive peak while his fingers continue their maddening exploration between my legs.
The dual sensations have me writhing as much as the restraints allow. Every brush of his tongue sends jolts of pleasure straight to my core, building the ache of need.
He switches to my other breast, lavishing it with the same attention while finally— finally —sliding one thick finger inside me. The stretch is minimal but welcome after so much teasing.
“More,” I plead, clenching around the intrusion. “Please, I need—”
“Shh.” He pulls back enough to meet my eyes, his own dark with desire. “Let me take care of you. My way.”
Slowly, like torture, he works a second finger alongside the first. The fuller stretch makes me moan, hands fisting in their silken bonds. His thumb brushes my clit in time with gentle thrusts, building pleasure in steady waves.
Just when I think I might actually die from the sweet torment, he withdraws his fingers completely. I whimper at the loss, watching through heavy-lidded eyes as he shifts to kneel between my spread thighs.
“Want to watch myself sink into this pretty pussy.” His voice has gone gravelly with arousal. “See how perfectly you take my cock.”
He lifts my hips, positioning himself at my entrance. The head of his cock nudges against me, hot and hard. Instead of pushing in, he rocks against me, coating himself in my wetness.
“Please,” I beg again, beyond caring how desperate I sound. “I need you inside me.”
“Since you asked so nicely.”
The first press of his cock stretches me wider than his fingers, a delicious burn that has me gasping. He moves with agonizing slowness, giving me time to adjust to each inch. By the time he’s fully seated, I’m trembling with the need to move.
“ Fuck ,” he groans, grinding deep. “So tight. So perfect.”
I try to wrap my legs around him, urge him deeper, but the ankle restraints keep me spread wide. The position allows him to sink impossibly deep, hitting spots that have my head spinning.
He begins a torturously slow rhythm, withdrawing almost completely before pressing back in. Each thrust is measured, controlled, designed to drive me mad with want.
“Look at you,” he murmurs, gaze fixed where our bodies join. “Taking me so well. Such a good girl.”
The praise makes me clench around him, drawing a harsh breath from his chest. He reaches for something beside the bed—a small vibrator we bought specifically for this trip.
The buzz of the toy coming to life makes my whole body tense in anticipation. When he presses it against my clit, the sensation is almost too much after so much buildup.
“Oh god,” I gasp, back arching off the bed. “Zeke, I’m gonna—”
“Not yet.” He pulls the vibrator away, denying me release. “Want to make this last.”
A sound somewhere between a moan and a sob escapes me. My whole body feels like a live wire, every nerve ending singing with denied pleasure. Each slow thrust of his cock brings me closer to the edge only to back away again.
“Please let me come,” I beg, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. “I need it so bad.”
He groans, hips stuttering slightly before regaining control. “Soon. You’re so fucking beautiful like this—desperate and needy for me.”
The vibrator returns to my clit, sending fresh waves of pleasure coursing through me. His thrusts remain slow and maddening, but he angles his hips to hit the spot deep inside that makes my vision blur.
“That’s it,” he encourages as I writhe beneath him. “Take what I give you. Show me how much you need it.”
The combination of his words, the vibrator, and his cock stretching me so perfectly pushes me right to the edge of orgasm. But each time I get close, he pulls back just enough to deny me release.
“Zeke, please,” I sob, beyond coherent thought. “I can’t—it’s too much—”
“You can take it.” His free hand squeezes my breast, rolling the nipple between his fingers. “Just a little longer. This feels too fucking good to rush.”
Time loses meaning as he keeps me suspended in that space between pleasure and torture. My world narrows to the points where we’re connected—his cock buried deep, the vibrator buzzing against sensitive flesh, his mouth marking my skin.
Just when I think I might actually lose my mind, he increases the pressure of the vibrator and snaps his hips forward hard.
“Come for me,” he commands. “Now.”
The orgasm hits like a tidal wave, pleasure crashing over me in endless waves. My body locks up, inner walls clamping down on his cock as my release courses through me. It feels like it goes on forever, each pulse drawing another cry from my throat.
Through the haze of pleasure, I feel him lose his careful control. His thrusts turn sharp and erratic, chasing his own release. When he comes, it’s with a groan of my name, filling me with his warmth.
We stay joined for several moments, both trying to catch our breath. Eventually, he carefully withdraws and moves to undo the restraints. His touch is gentle as he massages feeling back into my wrists and ankles.
“You okay?” He presses soft kisses to the slightly reddened skin. “Not too much?”
I manage a weak laugh. “Perfect. Though I might need a minute before I can move.”
He gathers me close, arranging us so I’m draped across his chest. The sound of waves fills the comfortable silence as we both come down from the high.
“I love you,” he whispers into my hair. “So fucking much.”
I press a kiss over his heart, feeling it beat strong beneath my lips. “Love you too.”
We drift like that for a while, trading lazy kisses and gentle touches. The morning sun climbs higher, painting patterns across our tangled bodies through the gauzy curtains.
“Hungry?” he asks eventually. “We could order breakfast.”
My stomach grumbles on cue, making us both laugh. “Definitely hungry. But first,” I trail my hand down his abs, his muscles jumping under my touch, “I think I owe you for that amazing wake-up call.”
His cock twitches against my hip, already showing interest. “You don’t owe me anything.”
“Maybe I just want to taste you.” I nip at his jaw. “Make you lose control for once.”
A growl rumbles in his chest. “Careful what you wish for, Mrs. King.”
The title still sends a thrill through me, even after all these months. I push him onto his back, straddling his hips with newfound energy.
“Oh, I know exactly what I’m wishing for.”
His hands settle on my waist as I begin kissing my way down his chest. Whatever plans we had for breakfast will just have to wait.
After all, we have all day.
And I plan to make the most of every minute.
The peaceful sound of waves against our villa’s stilts fills the air as I trail open-mouthed kisses down Zeke’s chest. His skin is warm beneath my lips, muscles tensing wherever I touch.
When I reach the ridged scar near his ribs—a souvenir from his darker days—I pause to trace it with my tongue. He shivers, hands tightening on my hips.
“Eve.” There’s a warning in his voice that makes heat pool low in my belly.
I smile against his skin. “Yes?”
Instead of answering, he threads his fingers through my hair, neither pushing nor pulling—just maintaining contact. The gesture is possessive yet gentle, perfectly encapsulating the man himself.
Continuing my downward path, I take my time exploring the planes of his abs with lips and tongue. Each kiss is deliberately placed, marking territory that’s already mine. When I reach the cut of his hip, I bite down gently, making him hiss.
“Minx.”
I glance up through my lashes, finding his dark eyes fixed on me with burning intensity. “Problem?”