I try to ignore what his hand is doing to my pussy and what his lips are doing to my neck and try to concentrate on what he’s saying. It can’t be some twisted declaration of commitment. It must mean something else. “I doubt you want me shackled to you forever.”

His chuckle vibrates against my skin. “If you knew what I really want, you would run away. What I’ve wanted for a long time.”

Why do I feel we’re talking about two different conversations? “And that is?” He ignores my question as his lips travel up my neck to my mouth. His tongue coaxes my mouth open just as...