I didn’t know it was Edward’s birthday until a few days after when he mentions it in passing. I scoff in mild irritation and say, “Well, better a late present than none at all,” and take his hand, pulling him to his cabin. I push him down on the bed “Stay,” I instruct, preparing to slowly strip for him. “You know I don’t listen well, love,” he says, sitting up. He makes a halfhearted attempt to struggle as I yank off his shirt, shove him back down, and tie his hands above his head with his belt. I remove my clothes, slowly, sensually, before I crawl onto the bed and kneel over him, hovering just above his erection. He keeps still, but I can see in his eyes how badly he wants me.

The feeling is mutual, but I have more plans before I’ll allow him to have me. I lean forward, still not touching him where we both want to be touched, and trace a finger lightly over one of his chest tattoos. “What does this mean?” I purr. As he begins the story, his voice strained and nearly a growl, I lean farther over him and kiss it, then lick. He barely gets one minute into the tale I wasn’t even listening to before yanking his hands free of the belt. He rips off his pants and I don’t put up a fight as he fucks me mercilessly. After a long night involving many orgasms for both of us he tells me that was the best birthday he’s ever had. Smiling with satisfaction, I climb on top of him for at least one more round.