Page 169 of Reverie

“I’ll punish you, baby, and I promise you’ll hate it as much as you love it.”

“Ass,” I say with a trembling smile, gripping the chair and sliding back to keep upright.

“Yes, but I’m your ass,” he says with a shrug. “Do you agree to the terms, Mrs. Brigham?”

Composing myself despite the wetness in my bottoms or the fact that my breasts are practically aching, I say, “I have counter-terms.”

He folds his arms before tilting his chin down. “State them,” he intones.

“I will take one guard; however, you may choose which one. I don’t feel good about leaving you here unprotected.”

Hunter’s smile is slow to appear. “You think I can’t protect myself, baby?”

I roll my eyes. “I know you can protect yourself, H. But what if something happens? What if you get overrun by pirates? What if you fall down the hill and into the ocean? What if you?—”

“I get the picture, Sunbeam,” he says with a laugh.

Hunter rubs his upper lip with the back of his thumb, thinking. A moment later, he sticks his hand out. “Two guards.”

I nod my head from side to side, contemplating and ignoring his outstretched palm. “I want SpongeBob and Patrick. You can keep Squidward.”

“Who?” he presses, completely baffled. He drops his hand, and I bust out laughing at the confused look on his face. My cackles trigger his own spiral of hilarity.

“I don’t know their names,” I stage-whisper as I hold my chest to calm myself down, “Do you know them?”

Hunter sucks in air and wipes his eyes to remove the tears. Pulling me close to him by the back of the neck, he presses a firm kiss to my forehead.

“Never change, baby,” he says when he pulls away a fraction. He ghosts his cheek against mine and turns his head to whisper in my ear. “Who’s SpongeBob?”

I keep the same low tone. “That’s the short and stout one. The blonde.”

His breath fans against the shell of my ear. “That would be Walker.” He kisses the space behind my ear. “Which one is Squidward?”

“Um,” I say, marching my way up the mountain of arousal once again. “That would be the tall, lithe one. The one who looks like Benedict Cumberbatch if he were an Olympic swimmer.”

He switches sides, kissing my neck and pulling the skin into his mouth with a firm suck. Releasing me, he says, “His name is Keegan.”

I run my hand down his chest, sticking the tips of my fingers beneath the waistband of his boardshorts. “And what’s Patrick’s name?”

I slide my hand lower, lower, lower.

Bingo. I grasp his cock in a firm grip, which forces him to release the most deliciously masculine groan against my lips.

He gives me a kiss so dirty that if I weren’t already pregnant, I totally would be.

“Maybe we could take a break?” I ask, pulling his hand down to return to its rightful place between my thighs.

He groans again, covering my pussy with his palm and pressing our bottom halves together in an intimate embrace.

“I wish, baby,” he says, slowly pulling away. I blow out a breath.

Straightening, I say, “Okay, Mr. Brigham. I accept your offer. But you owe me like four orgasms when I get back home.”

I press my palm to his, shaking his hand firmly.

“Deal,” he says, grinning.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” I throw back, matching his tone and expression.