About the period that had arrived and the relief I hadn’t expected to feel. About the fear underneath the relief—because relief meant another month, another cycle, another reprieve before the thing the contract required became real and irreversible. A child. His child. Growing inside me whether I was ready or not.
Yet here I was, taking comfort in the very thing that would eventually be my undoing.
I stopped thinking and held on, choosing only to feel.
“Harder,” I moaned.
His rich laughter followed my demand, but his grip on my hips tightened. His pace quickened. The sound of our flesh slapping together filled the room. The feel of my warm blood and arousal coating him caused me to clench my muscles as his length pistoned in and out of me.
“Da. What a mess. A beautiful red mess,” he snarled.
His balls swung back and forth, slapping my pussy. His cock began to expand and twitch. My face and breasts dragged over the bed with each brutal thrust until the tension coiled so tight I couldn’t breathe.
I came apart, clawing at the bed and clamping down on his cock. His hands moved over my back, tugging strands of my hair as he held my shoulders while pressing himself deep inside of me. My muscles were still contracting around him when his seed spilled into me. The erratic rhythm slowed.
But as soon as the high began to ebb the same despondent thoughts latched on. My eyes shut just as the tears began to well.
I waited until he pulled out, ignoring the gush of come that seeped out of me. I went to the bathroom and cleaned myself up. The large wall mirror was there but I refused to look at it. Instead I reached into the cupboard and pulled out another tampon.
When I returned to the bedroom he was still there. Dressed in his black robe, standing exactly where I had left him as though he owned the space—which of course he did.
“Your bank card,” he said, nodding to the nightstand.
“Ah,” I said lightly, walking past him to the chest of drawers.“Payment for services rendered.”
I pulled out a fresh pair of underwear before opening another drawer for the spare pads I had packed before leaving home.
Home.
Neither there nor here. All of it temporary. Every place I had ever belonged to already gone or in the process of being taken.
I slipped my underwear on and secured the pad.
“I won’t come in the morning,” he said.“You can rest. If you need anything—for comfort—ask yourbyki.”
I focused on closing the drawers.
A quiet beat.
Then the click of the door.
I rested my hands on the chest of drawers and bowed my head.
This, plus nine months.
I wasn’t sure how I would survive it.
If I could survive it.
I dragged myself to the bed, flung the covers back and sank into the warmth. Pulled them over me and lay still.
Reality had crept up on me while I wasn’t looking.
Now I had to deal with it.
??????
After breakfast I dumped my plate in the sink and walked out of the kitchen. I snapped my fingers at my guard dog, who was stationed in the hallway.
