Page 10 of After the Chase

To finish me off he adds a third finger, stretching me to the max, and I'm so close I can taste it. My cock is leaking steadily, precum mixing with his saliva, and every nerve in my body is on fire.

"Please," I beg. "Please, Noah, I need to cum."

He pulls off my cock with an obscene pop, his fingers still working inside me.

"Why should I let you?"

"Because I'm yours. Because I exist for you and you own me completely."

His eyes darken with gratification. "That's right. You're mine. Every part of you belongs to me. Say it, say my name."

“My shadow,” I pant, my body overheating as beads of sweat gather on my forehead, and my brain goes dizzy.

He takes my cock back in his mouth and crooks his fingers inside me, hitting that spot with the most perfect pressure. The combination is too much. I cum with a shout, my body arching off the bed, my cock pulsing as I spill down his throat. Noahswallows it all, his fingers still working inside me, drawing out every last tremor of pleasure until I'm boneless and gasping.

When he finally pulls away, I'm completely wrecked. My body feels like it's been taken apart and put back together, every nerve ending singing with joy. Noah crawls up the bed and pulls me against his chest, his hand settling possessively on my hip.

"I’ll never let you go, you’ll never live without me," he murmurs against my hair.

"I know, I won’t let you go either," I say, my voice hoarse. And as I drift toward sleep in his arms, I think about what just happened. Even in this act of giving me pleasure, Noah was in complete control. He decided when I could cum and decided how much I could take. He decides everything, even when it comes to death.

And I love every second of it. Because this is what I am now. Not his therapist or even his equal. I’m his possession and world. His completely willing captive.

And I wouldn't change a single thing.

CHAPTER TWO

NOAH

I wake at 6:47am with Chase still sleeping beside me.

His breathing is slow and even, his tanned and toned swimmer body curved toward mine in unconscious trust. For someone who is six feet tall, he looks small beside me, breakable in an innocent way. One hand rests against my chest, his fingers splayed over my heart as if measuring its rhythm. His thick dark brown hair that’s started to curl from needing a trim lays perfectly across my skin. I look at his wedding band and the roar of ownership bursts through my blood. I move my eyes to his face which is peaceful, beautiful, completely unaware. I zone in on his dark eyelashes and count each lash on each eye. My vision is like a computer that can decode whatever I see, unlike most people I can hone in on extreme detail. I have a hyperfocus, in particular when it comes to Chase. Just like now, I’ve noted his resting heart rate is fifty-five beats per minute. Standard for him when sleeping.

I lie perfectly still, which is a skill I've perfected over years of maintaining control even in vulnerability and analyze the night. Luca.

The memory from the first meeting unfolds with perfect clarity, because I remember everything. Every detail and everysecond. My mind doesn't blur or soften trauma the way normal brains do. It preserves and files away all information like a piece of paper in a filing cabinet. It replays in my head with HD clarity.

We'd been seated at a corner table with a view of the canal, candlelight reflecting off the water, the air thick with the scent of garlic and wine.

Chase had been radiant. He always is when we're in public, animated, charming, drawing eyes without even trying. I'd watched him the way I always do, noting every micro-expression, every gesture, measuring the attention he attracted and determining which of it constituted a threat.

The waiter had been a threat from the moment he approached our table, actually before then, when he had checked us in. Mid-twenties. Attractive in that mysterious way, dark eyes, olive skin, confident smile. His name tag read Luca. He'd made eye contact with Chase immediately, held it a fraction too long, let his smile warm into something more than professional courtesy. The existence of people annoys me to toxic levels, but there are the ones like Luca who have a special place.

I noticed everything. Luca made no attempt to hide his desire to get into Chase’s pants. Commenting on his eyes, mentioning how lucky I was. Fucking asshole. Chase had been polite, batted away the compliments as if they were harmless without any intent. He was more focused on me, just like I had manipulated him to be after I first met him. My goal was always for me to be the sole purpose of Chase’s life and it had worked out beautifully, but occasionally we would come up against an annoying whore like Luca. Sometimes it can be friendliness, but I'd seen the way Luca looked at him, even though he was aware we are married. The way his gaze had lingered on Chase's mouth, his throat, the elegant line of his neck.

Unacceptable. I do have the intelligence that it would be impossible for me to kill every person in sight that breathes near Chase, which I would do if it was possible, but I’m not at home where I have my country house that holds a never ending amount of dead bodies congealed in an acid drum. But there are times when fuckheads like Luca appear and there is no choice. Exceptions are made.

Back at the hotel, I'd fucked Chase with a deep intensity, needing to reclaim every inch of his skin Luca had run his disgusting eyes over. As always, Chase had been pliant and eager beneath me, gasping my name, clinging to me with desperate need, the way I had molded him to become.

Afterward, I'd faked being asleep as I did most nights. Naive Chase thought he knew me so well in every way, but he didn’t know that I faked sleep, knowing he was watching me, the watching was my job. I'd held him until his breathing slowed and deepened into sleep. I'd waited another thirty minutes to be certain, monitoring his breathing, the rhythm of his heartbeat against my chest, the complete relaxation of his body that indicated deep REM sleep. After I'd extracted myself carefully, dressed in black, I gathered my tools.

Gloves. Knife. Phone. Ski mask. All the instruments of my particular craft.

I would never leave Chase alone while he was awake. Never. The thought of him vulnerable, unprotected and exposed to potential threats while conscious is intolerable. But sleep is different. In sleep, he's safe in our locked room, unaware, and I can use those hours to eliminate the fuckers that circle him during waking hours.

The streets of Venice at 2am are a labyrinth of shadows and silence. I'd walked them with purpose, memorizing routes, identifying camera placements, finding the blind spots where observation could occur undetected.

I'd known where Luca worked. Now I needed to know where he lived. I'd positioned myself across fromOsteria della Luna’sservice entrance and waited. At 2:14am, Luca had emerged from the exit with his earbuds in, phone glowing in his hand, completely unaware. He'd been texting someone, his attention absorbed by the screen.