Then I move. Pull out halfway and slam back in, the slap of skin on skin echoing in the room.
Water droplets still cling to us, making every slide slicker, hotter. I set a rhythm. Deep, possessive thrusts that pin her to the wall, my hips grinding against her clit with each drive.
Her moans fill the space, breathy and desperate, legs tightening around me.
"Harder," she begs, and I give it to her, pounding into her pussy with everything I've got.
The wall shakes a little under the force, but I don't care. Nothing exists but this, her body yielding to mine, taking my cock like she was made for it.
I capture her mouth again, swallowing her cries as I fuck her relentlessly. One hand slips between us, thumb finding her clit, rubbing firm circles to push her higher.
She's close, I feel it in the way she tenses, inner muscles squeezing me tight.
"Come on my cock, Carly," I demand, voice gravelly, nipping her lip. "Let me feel you shatter. You're mine—say it."
"Yours," she gasps, eyes locking on mine as she breaks. Her pussy clamps down, pulsing hard around me, juices flooding as she comes with a keening wail. My cock throbs, spilling hot cum inside her, marking her from the inside out.
I don't pull out right away. Stay buried, holding her against the wall as we both pant, aftershocks rippling through us.
Her forehead rests on my shoulder, and I press a kiss to her temple, arms wrapping around her tight.
"Not going anywhere," I repeat, softer now, but no less true. She's mine, and I'll keep her safe, keep her close, for as long as she'll have me.
Epilogue
Carly
TwoYearsLater
Two years ago, I was kept in a room, waiting to be sold.
That sentence still feels unreal when I think it.
Two years ago, I thought my life was over before it had even started. I thought I was something that could be priced. Moved. Owned.
The man with the badge is serving time now. Not just him. His whole operation unraveled. Trafficking charges. Federal investigations. Accounts frozen. Properties seized.
Tessa talked. And when she did, the whole thing collapsed.
The girl they pulled out that night? She’s back in college. I get a text from her every few months. Updates. Pictures of normal things. Sunsets. Coffee cups. A dog she adopted.
She moved on.
Just like I did. One step at a time.
Now I’m standing barefoot in the kitchen of a cabin that smells like coffee and cedar, watching my husband rock our son in his arms like he was born knowing how.
Life is strange like that.
We got married less than three months after he broke down that warehouse door.
Everyone said it was fast.
It didn’t feel fast.
It felt inevitable.
When you almost lose something before you even understand what it is, you don’t waste time pretending you’re unsure.
