"How many men have died in there?" I whispered.
She held up nine fingers. Dropped one down only to put it back up again. She must have been counting in her head.
"Nine men," I said roughly. "I'm going to fuck you on the box where nine men have died."
While I imagine a tenth looking up at us, bound and gagged, water around his throat. Watching her breasts slide back and forth across the Perspex.
I fucked her with my fingers. Firm and rough, never gentle. She got wetter and wetter, moaning against the ball in her mouth.
With every groan, I grew harder. So hard it was unbearable. I fumbled with the front of my jeans, pushing them down and out of the way. Just enough that I could position my cock outside her entrance and shove into her.
I almost came when she let out a muffled cry, but managed to cling to my control. Barely.
The pace slow, I drove into her over and over.
Her hands gripped the sides of the box, holding her in place while I fucked her hard.
Right before I came, I slid out of her and pulled her to her feet.
"Open the box," I ordered.
Her eyes widened, but she slipped off the padlock and lifted the lid.
"Get inside," I said just as firmly.
She swallowed and backed up a step.
I grabbed a fistful of hair and held her before she could get too far from me.
"I'm not locking you in there," I told her. "I'm getting in there with you."
All but hauling her over, I helped into the box before following her in and pulling her down to her knees.
There was barely any room to move. I couldn't have lain down. If the lid was down, I wouldn't have been able to sit up either.
There was only room enough for me to kneel behind her and push myself inside her again. Fucking her in the exact place she'd murdered nine men. Burying myself deep inside her.
One hand on her hip, I reached around to rub at her clit, needing to feel her come around my cock.
"Come for me," I insisted. "I want you to come where they took their last breaths."
I didn't understand my own need for this. Was it a way of punishing her for what she'd done? Or was I turned on by knowing the kind of men who hurt my brother were tortured here?
It may be a little of both.
Either way, her pussy felt incredible clenching around my cock as she came around me.
My balls tightened before I cried out and came inside her. Spilling my release into her hot, wet pussy.
I sagged down over her, gathering her up in my arms and holding her.
Regardless of how I felt about the things she'd done, this woman was everything.
Love wasn't a strong enough word for how I felt about her. What word was? I didn't know. Maybe there wasn't one.
It didn't matter. What we had didn't need a label.
I was about to help her out of the box when a knock sounded on the door.
