⚠️ Warning: Sexual content. . .

"Shower's free," came from the bedroom doorway just as Virginia turned the page in the magazine she was reading.

She looked over but Mark was nowhere in sight. He'd showered? He hadn't said he was showering. Not that he had to detail his every move, but . . . with the house quiet and the kids already at her parents' place, she'd been hoping for a little attention. When was the last time they'd showered together?

Having two kids and demanding careers, they had little time to themselves these days. Mark was understandably preoccupied with running The Chilvati Group after the death of its founder, Augustus, and the incarceration of the only male heir, Gus. The Chilvati daughters were now in control, but it would take years for them to learn the ropes and allow Mark to take a step back. Plus, there was the added pressure of him working with the FBI to make sure all illegal activities had ceased and no one stepped in to fill the void.

The Southeast district, her district, was already beginning to show signs of improvement. An abandoned industrial building had just been bought with the intention of turning the thing into condos, and three new restaurants were opening in the next few months. A big part of the influx of cash was because of her husband—his confidence, his connections, his assurances to investors.

Busy. Busy. Busy. Virginia tossed the latest Martha Stewart Living to the table, making a mental note to cancel the subscription. She barely had time to read the thing let alone attempt any of the DIY challenges detailed in its articles.

With the magazine gone from her lap, she couldn't help but focus on the sweat pants she was wearing. Oh, hell. Had their sex life fallen into a rut?

There was only one way of fixing that.

Entering the bedroom, she spotted him over at the dresser wearing a white towel secured low at his hips. Still wet, his dark hair shone almost blue and the little bit of curl he always dried straight made an appearance along the bottom edges. He'd already put on cologne, its scent lingering in the path he'd taken. She stopped and closed her eyes, trying not to make it too obvious when she inhaled most of the air on her side of the room. Ahhhh. The Tom Ford. Of course. It was the only one he wore since telling him it was her favorite.

"Ginny?"

Her eyes flew open to find him watching her. He glanced at the clock on the bedside table.

Yeah, yeah. "I won't take long," she said.

He gave her a wink. Hmmmm, maybe he was planning to join her after all.

A black dress heavy with sequins hung on the bathroom door, her Ferragamo pumps with the cute little bows and four-inch heels on the floor nearby. She'd had her hair done earlier in the day, which normally would have had her reaching for a shower cap to protect the up-do, but no way was he catching her in one of those.

Keeping her head clear of the spray and the steam to a minimum, she wielded the soap and razor with distracted competence. His big silhouette passed by the frosted glass of the shower door twice while she was in there, the hum of the hairdryer filling the time in between. Crap.

As she dried off, she decided more extreme measures were necessary.

Minutes later, she peeked around the corner. Standing in his underwear and socks over by the double doors of his closet, Mark had his back to her as he lifted one tie after another to compare them to the jacket on the valet stand in front of him. Without a sound, she hurried over to the bed and stretched out on her stomach across its width. Swinging both legs up behind her, she crossed her ankles in the air while clasping her hands together under her chin.

Sweeping her eyes over the vastness of naked skin, she found herself utterly captivated by the raw power of the man in front of her. He reached for his shirt and drew it on, the muscles along his arms and shoulders shifting and tightening. She had thought she'd kept the mmm-mmm-mmm to herself, but he glanced over at her.

Then he took another, longer look. "Nice shoes."

"Thank you." She grinned. The Ferragamos were the only thing she had on.

"Don't you think you should be getting ready?"

Her smile fell away. That's it? "Ah . . . yeah, I guess."

Virginia shifted up onto hands and knees to back her way off the bed. It didn't feel so seductive doing it all in reverse—gravity had her breasts pointing straight down with an ugly dangle and her knee caught on the comforter, making her flop down onto her right hip with all the dignity of a drunk.

"Okay." She was up on her feet again. "I won't take long," she repeated, because no other words came to her.

She hadn't made it five steps when she was swept up into strong arms. Blue eyes creased up with his smile. "You, my love, are far too gullible."

She pushed against his chest. "Put me down, Mark. You've ruined the mood."

His head snapped back and his mouth opened, but he decided to do as she asked before defending himself. With her feet firmly back on the ground, he reached for her hand, his forehead lined with worry. "Ginny, I—"

"Who's gullible?"

She was back up in his arms faster than she could blink. "You'll pay for that," he said, his voice a deep rumble.

Following up on the threat, Mark pretty much tossed her on the bed, and she landed with a little squeal that brought an erotic smile to his face. Planting both hands on either side of her shoulders, he leaned over her, the unbuttoned dress shirt spreading wide to show off pecs and abs and all the delicious contours in between. His gaze was intense as he took her in, and her skin tingled in anticipation of his weight coming down on top of her.

But he pulled back and sat next to her instead. His fingers traced their way down her neck to her collarbone. "Is my wife feeling neglected?"

"A little."

He frowned. "I'm sorry."

"I know how busy you are with Angela and Loretta and everything else on your plate."

"You are my number one priority, now and always, Ginny." The sincerity in his voice almost brought her to tears.

His mouth replaced his fingers, kissing a path between her breasts before taking a detour around each nipple. It was always like this with him, gentle, controlled, languorous, his deep-seated fear of hurting her constantly present, stemming from a childhood of watching the brutality his father inflicted on his mother.

That was not to say they didn't ever experiment, but it was always on her lead. Like now. She dug out the handcuffs she'd shoved under the pillow and wiggled them back and forth, the rattle of metal bringing his head up.

There was a momentary flash of pain in his expression. "No, Ginny." He shifted to lie beside her.

She knew where his mind had taken him—back to the day of her attack when Walt had broken into the mansion, intent on killing her. Mark had been out, and the weight of his guilt over not being there was still palpable. Bruce had been the one to save her. They were in a different house, a different bed, but he was right, being restrained would likely bring those terrifying memories to the surface.

However . . . "I didn't say they were for me."

There was a long silence while he considered the power shift. Then he reared up and ripped off the shirt. "We're going to be late," he said as he threw himself on his back and raised his arms above his head, wearing a grin almost as stunning as the body beneath it.

Virginia ran through the schedule in her head as she crawled over him. The fundraiser was for one of the foundations he sat on the board of. The silent auction was at five, but the dinner didn't start until six. "We'll sneak in. No one will notice."

That was a lie—people took notice when he walked into a room.

Threading the cuffs through the wood spindles of the headboard, she captured one wrist, then the other, her fingers fumbling each time he craned his neck to latch on to one of her nipples. "There." She sat back on her heels to check out her handy work. "Now you are all mine."

"What will you do?" He thrust his hips up, grinding into her.

But she was having none of that. She was the one in control. She moved down the bed and tugged on the hem of his boxers. He lifted his hips again and she pulled on the material, his erection popping free and swaying a few times before settling. She made her way down the long legs, his silk drawers ending up on the floor.

Mark said something she didn't quite catch and then nudged her with his foot.

She had to tear her eyes away from the hard length laid out along his pelvis, the impressive arousal stretching from the two heavy weights at its base to his naval. "Sorry. What?"

He knew where her focus was, his voice thick when he told her, "I said, 'My socks too.' A man should never make love to his wife in his socks."

"Oh." She looked down. Feeling empowered, she ran her thumb along one of his arches, making him jerk, and the bed frame gave off a mighty groan as the full-body contraction reached all the way to the cuffs.

Oops. Probably not a good idea.

She pulled off the socks. Then went for her shoes.

"Leave them."

"Isn't that a little unfair?" she joked.

"Sex is unfair." He smiled at her. "The man is always in charge."

"Oh, really." Well, we'll just see about that, won't we? Yet she left her shoes on. Because it pleased him. Damn it.

She grabbed hold of his ankles and started a slow glide up, travelling the flat plain of his calves, the hills of his knees, and the ridged terrain of his powerful thighs, not stopping until she reached her destination.

Wide-eyed, Mark watched as she lifted his erection straight up from his body and two-fisted the shaft. She stroked him up and down, and it was like satin on steel, a soft, smooth cover shifting over a solid base.

"Ginny . . ." he hissed, throwing his head back on the pillow, the muscles in his neck tightening.

She leaned down and wrapped her lips around the blunt head.

"Oh, shit . . . Ginny, I . . . shiiiiit." He started a slow thrust, being gentle enough to set a rhythm without gagging her. "Take your hands away," he ordered, even though he was in no position to give orders.

Virginia looked up at him. His head was lifted and his eyes blazed, echoing the demand—he wanted the full view of his sex sliding in and out of her mouth. She let him go, but only because it was such a turn on to see his reaction. His eyes fluttered and he groaned low in his throat, his thick arms flexing as he strained against the cuffs. He wanted at her, wanted his fingers in her hair, guiding her.

It didn't take long to get him to the point of panting. "You should stop," he gritted. He was close, his big body arching on the bed, his muscles becoming so defined they threw shadows. "Enough . . . Ginny, stop."

She dragged the edge of her teeth over his sensitive tip.

"Ginny!" There were two loud cracks, similar to the sound a tree limb makes before crashing to the ground.

Oh, no. She shot up the bed and tossed away the pillow hiding the key. She'd just managed to release one side when the cuffs were yanked through the injured rails, and she was flipped onto her back.

"When will you learn to do as you're told?" His face was fierce as his heavy weight bore down on her, a hint of the aggression he liked to keep contained coming out to play.

He lifted his arm, the one still wearing the metal bracelet. Her fingers shook a little as she worked the lock, but it wasn't out of fear.

"No smiling," he growled . . . "No pouting, either."

She let the handcuffs fall to the bed next to her head. "And what may I do, pray tell?"

"Moan." He drove into her, deep, so deep she lost all control and yelled one quick, glad cry. Then he stilled, bracing himself above her, and remained like that, his eyes locked with hers. So this was to be her punishment. He was going to make her beg.

"Mark, please," she all but sobbed. Yes, it was that quick. This was not the time for games. Besides, pride had zero relevance once he was inside of her. It was all about pleasure. Pure, two-hundred-proof pleasure.

Looking pretty damn smug, he partially withdrew. And slammed back into her.

She moaned loudly.

"That's it, baby." The whispered words were loving and possessive, and he started to move with full, hard strokes that sent her spiraling.

He dropped down on his forearms and dipped his head, his breath a hot, heavy pulse in her ear that sped up with each of his thrusts. Her body did the same, matching his tempo, the heat between them churning and building until she was about to explode. She knew he'd reached his limit when his body tensed up and his rhythm grew urgent.

"Yessss," he groaned. "Now, Ginny."

The guttural command was like a high-octane boost to the fuel driving her orgasm, increasing the momentum and propelling her over the finish line. He was right there with her, his hips slowing to deliver three more powerful pumps as she broke apart beneath him.

Wow. She lay perfectly still, savoring the way he surrounded her with his bulk, his warmth, and the sweet-spicy fragrance of Tobacco Vanille, which seemed to have grown stronger. Hell, the stuff had probably rubbed off on her and would be there for the rest of the night, but she loved it, feeling a little naughty wearing his scent.

When they had both recovered enough to move, he pulled out. "I messed up your hair," he murmured, touching some of the loose strands.

Hair? Who cared about hair when your body was weightless and adrift, floating in a pool of bliss? "You could have shaved me bald during all of that and I wouldn't have cared."

"Never. I love your hair. The messier the better."

The air felt cold against her skin when he rolled off of her. "Come." He stood and offered her his hand. "Let's get you into that dress."

Virginia would have been quite happy to stay right where she was, but they had given their word about attending and that meant something to both of them. She placed her palm in his and he pulled her up.

Those blue eyes grew heavy as they moved over her. "We'll go for a quick dinner and come right back here for dessert." Then he frowned. "Do we still have whip cream in the fridge?"

She shrugged because, in all honesty, he knew more about what was in the kitchen than she did, and a salacious smile spread across his gorgeous face. Oh. That kind of dessert. She didn't think it was possible so soon, but she was suddenly greedy for his touch again. Following him into the bathroom only made it worse, the wetness from what he'd left between her legs giving her a proprietary thrill as her eyes drifted across the wide slope of his shoulders and down to one glorious ass. She'd gone on the pill after Simon's birth, but if the decision were her husband's to make, she'd be pregnant more often than not.

Mark grabbed a couple of towels off the shelf and turned to her, his gaze going down to her feet. "You can take off your shoes now."

"Can I? Gee, thank you, sir," she said, stepping out of them.

"Sir?" He laughed. "Come on, we both know who the real master is in this relationship. Who instigated that whole thing?"

He tugged open the shower door, started the spray, and pulled her in with him once it reached the right temperature. Turning his back to the water, he soaped up his palms, and when those broad hands began roaming over her, Virginia couldn't stop smiling. She had gotten exactly what she'd wanted, hadn't she. But that wasn't what was causing the happy face. The real joy came with the reminder of how blessed they were—not because of the nice house, the fancy cars, or the expensive shoes—they were a family, and that's all that mattered. Life was good.

In fact, it was perfect.

END OF CHAPTER THREE

I bet you all thought it was going to be Paul up to his old tricks again. Nope. This was for my dieheart Virginia and Mark fans. Married couples have fun too, right? 😉

Things get a little quiet in the sexier chapters. I'm hoping it's because you can't tear your eyes away long enough to write something. However, feedback here would be appreciated. Was it too much? Too little? Even a little thumbs up 👍 or down 👎 would give me an idea.

I've gone ahead and hit the mature button on this story, but I can always dial it back a little and take it off. This is why your thoughts really matter. 💬

Dedicated to @Romance Thank you for adding me to your Romantic Suspense list!

Thank you for reading along! Don't forget that little star!⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️