She reaches her peak first, her pussy squeezing me even tighter. I hear her strangled cry as she bites my shoulder in the throes of her orgasm, and then I’m there, shuddering over her as my seed shoots out in continuous heated spurts.

Breathing harshly, I sink down on top of her, my arms no longer able to support my weight. Every muscle in my body is shaking from the force of my release, and I’m covered with a thin veil of sweat. After a few moments, I muster the strength to roll over onto my back, pulling her to lie on top of me.

It shouldn’t be this intense again, not after the way we fucked earlier, but it is. It always is. There’s never a moment when I don’t want her, when I don’t think about her. If I ever lost her—

No. I refuse to think about that. It won’t happen. I won’t let it.

I will do whatever it takes to keep her safe.

Safe from everyone but me.

8

Nora

When I wake up in the morning, Julian is already gone.

Climbing out of bed, I head straight for the shower, feeling grimy and sticky after last night. We both fell asleep right after sex, too worn out to bother washing up or changing the wet sheets. Then, just before dawn, Julian woke me up by sliding inside me again, his skilled fingers bringing me to orgasm before I was fully awake. It’s as if he can’t get enough of me after our long separation, his already-strong libido going into overdrive.

Of course, I can’t get enough of him either.

A smile curves my lips as I remember the searing passion of last night. Julian promised me the wedding night of my dreams, and he certainly delivered. I don’t even know how many orgasms I’ve had over the past twenty-four hours. Of course, now I’m even more sore, my insides raw from so much fucking.

Still, I feel immeasurably better today, both physically and mentally. The bruises on my thighs are less tender to the touch, and I’m no longer feeling quite as overwhelmed. Even the idea of being married to Julian doesn’t seem as frightening in the morning light. Nothing has truly changed, except that now there is a piece of paper joining us together, letting the world know that I belong to him. Captor, lover, or husband—it’s all the same; the label doesn’t alter the reality of our dysfunctional relationship.

Stepping under the shower spray, I tilt my head back, letting the hot water flow over my face. The shower is as luxurious as the rest of the house, the circular stall big enough to accommodate ten people. I wash and scrub every inch of my body until I begin to feel human again. Then I go back into the bedroom to get dressed.

I find an enormous closet in the back of the room, filled mostly with light summer clothes. Remembering the stifling heat outside, I select a simple blue sundress, then slide my feet into a pair of brown flip-flops. It’s not the most sophisticated outfit, but it’ll do.