It was just me and her for Valentine’s Day, alone in our apartment with the lights dimmed low. I spent the afternoon preparing chicken marsala, the mushrooms simmering in wine as she watched me from the kitchen doorway, her eyes hungry for more than just dinner. We savored a bottle of cabernet that stained her lips a deeper red with each sip. After dessert, I cleaned my palate between her thighs, my tongue exploring every fold until she gripped my hair and shuddered against my mouth. Then she took control, bending me over the dining table we’d just cleared, her strap-on filling me completely while I begged for more. When she finally unlocked the cage I’d been wearing all week and allowed me inside her slick heat, I nearly lost my mind at the first tight squeeze of her around me. Oh fucking god.

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