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She’s a sonnet the universe wrote for me. A property I’m never selling.

I’m her owner. Her man. And I’m about to teach this beautiful innocent thing a lesson.

I move my hand from her clit up to one cheek, swiping her tears off it, and shove them in her mouth. Drag two fingers in and out of it as harshly as my cock pounds into her.

“I’m so proud of you.” I groan from having her clench around me. Her heels are pinned to my ass, as hard as her desperation for me. “For fighting me. For picking the ankle cuff.”

She moans and gags every time my fingers hit the back of her throat. Grabs the edge of the desk so she can lift her hips to mine.

“But you’ll need more than that to survive.” The pressure on my cock intensifies. She sucks my fingers harder. “God.Fuck. Your body, Ophelia. Jesus.”

I can’t get distracted. Have to finish this.

My hand is wet from her mouth when I reach for one of the pictures that I took of her. She’s in her underwear. Adorable and fucking oblivious. “You see this?”

“Yes.” Her eyes darken.

“This can’t happen again. You have to be vigilant. Ready to kill. At any fucking time. Do you understand me?”

“I’ll do anything you say,” she growls.

Her insanity speaks to my dick. To my cold heart and colder mind. The urge to come inside of her possesses me to the point I can’t see straight. I throw away the photo, pulling out of Ophelia.

“No,” she screams. “Don’t you dare leave me like this.”

“Don’t plan to.” I’m already manhandling her, flipping her and bending her over the desk. The first spank always makes her cry out the hardest. I have a hand in her hair, another on her hip.

“Fuck.” Back inside her pussy. Her warmth. Her body that’s so completely mine. I tug on her hair, pulling on the roots until she looks at me. “Who do you belong to?”

“Who doyoubelong to?”

I laugh. Shove her pretty face to the desk. “Brat. Talking back like that. Are you trying to get me riled up? Fuck you harder? Punish you?” I slam into her. The folders fly off to the floor. “Is this”—thrust—“not”—she screams to her God—“hard enough”—slam—“for you?”

“Please. Yes. It’s everything.”

“Good girl.” Up she goes. I lift her so her body is flush against mine, my hand on her clit. Mouth on her neck. Sucking. Leaving my mark. “Come for me. Come all over my cock.”

“Can’t.” Her hands rise to my neck, her eyes pinched. “Too…I’m too sensitive.”

“Is that so?” I shove deeper into her, rubbing her just the way she likes.

“Oh—Oh, no. Oh, please, no. Please, don’t stop.” Her head falls against my chest, and I devour her parted lips.

She shivers and spasms on my cock the moment the second orgasm takes over her. I hold her to me, an arm around her waist, drilling into her. Grunting her name with my own release.

“My girl. Mine.” My hand is on her throat as I empty my cum inside her. “You’ll be so beautiful. Swollen with our babies. Take every fucking drop. Take. It.”

She shudders around me. Her dark gaze burrowing into mine. “I’m more than just a womb. I’m more, James. I’m more than that.”

It’s a plea. A statement. A line she draws in the sand.

“You are. You’re so much more.”

I’ve accepted the fact that she’s taken over my life. That she’s laid claim to my rotten soul. There’s no going back from this.

She lowers a hand down her body, taking mine with her. Flattening it against her pussy. “Then yes. I’ll take it,” she says like she has a choice.

She doesn’t.