Dean trails his hand down my breast, slowly, splaying his fingers along my abdomen. His touch is gentle and soft against my sore ribs, merely a tickle. A small whimper escapes my throat, and I instinctively raise my leg to wrap it around his waist, our tongues in a frenzy and our lips devouring one another. Dean’s hand leaves me to unbutton his jeans and yank them down his hips, and then I feel him at my core, seeking more of my heat. We’re both warm and breathing and alive, and it’s intoxicating. Life is intoxicating when you’re on the brink of death, day after day.

I inhale a tapered breath when he pushes inside me, my hands gripping the pole. My eyes are still closed as I try to zone out to my usual, happy place—the one that’s far, far away from here.

But I keep being pulled back to Dean.

I’m too aware of him today, too drunk on the feel of another human body filling me up and breathing life into me. His cock thrusts deep as his forehead touches mine again, but I keep my eyes shut, too scared to look at him. Too scared to see if his blue, blue eyes are reflecting everything I’m feeling right now.

His movements are slower than usual. Slow, but steady. Intense.

Usually he’s quick and hurried, eager to get this over with. But not today. Today, it’s different—almost like he’s savoring every inch of me. And I’m not sure why, I’ll never know why, but my body starts to respond. I block everything out, except for Dean, and I feel a pool of heat surge between my thighs… an ancient buzz of pleasure.

Pleasure.

What a thing to feel when you’re chained in a basement with a madman waving a gun at you in one hand and beating off in the other, while your soon-to-be brother-in-law fucks you against a pole.

But I go with it.

I go with it because it’s better than feeling like I’m dying inside.

I think Dean notices, too. He palms my ass with one hand beneath my t-shirt, my unwashed hair falling over our faces like a curtain. I’m dirty and gross, and I probably smell like a sewer, but that doesn’t stop Dean from burying his face into my neck and breathing me in, inhaling my scent like it’s sweet, beautiful oxygen. He picks up speed, and I realize my other leg has wrapped around him, holding myself up and pulling him close as his cock drives in and out of me.

He lifts his head.

I can feel him looking at me. Watching me. Begging me to open my eyes.

I do.

My eyelids flutter open and the air catches in my throat when our gazes meet. He’s staring at me like I’m the only goddamn thing in the world, and I suppose, right now, I am.

A soft moan passes through his lips and I want to know what it tastes like, so I lean forward to capture his mouth in another searing kiss. He kisses me back with everything he has left, every last ounce of life and hope, his tongue tangling desperately with my own.