“Well, since you asked so nicely,” he says with a dramatic flourish.

My laugh turns into a groan as he holds my legs apart and slides into me.

“There’s something about having you bent over a surface while wearing heels,” he whispers. “Makes me want to turn that ass red.”

I can’t speak. My mouth parts as he screws me with long deep strokes, robbing me of my ability to think. I try to keep my voice down, well aware that we’re not alone in the house. Robert helps with that, ...