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It’s everything.

The air’s thick with it, heavy and electric. My hand finds her throat, not squeezing, just holding, just claiming, and her eyes roll like she’s about to come undone.

She’s soaking me. Dripping. Every thrust sounds obscene, wet and hot and perfect, and her body, Christ, her body won’t stop shaking. Like she’s overloaded. Like I broke something inside her and she likes it.

“Dean,” she sobs, voice cracking on it, eyes wild and glassy.

And then she shatters.

It hits her all at once, her whole body locking up under me, mouth wide open in a silent scream before the sound rips from her chest.

A cry so loud it bounces off the walls. Echoes like a fucking war drum. Like victory.

I don’t stop. Can’t.

She’s spasming around me, soaking the base of my cock, and I slam in once, twice, and that’s it. I bury myself to the hilt, grinding deep as I come with a growl low in my chest, like an animal marking what’s his.

My hips jerk once, twice more, just to be sure.

Just to make it stick.

I stay inside her, panting hard, braced on shaking arms while she trembles beneath me, her thighs twitching around my waist, her fingers still tangled in my hair like she forgot how to let go.

And when I finally look down at her, sweaty, dazed, fucked out of her pretty little mind, she smiles.

Like this is exactly how she wanted it.

And fuck me so do I.

This crazy, chaotic, fucked-up little compound?

This is home now.

She’s still wrapped around me like a vice, skin damp and flushed, hair sticking to her forehead. And I’m not pulling out yet. Not until I have to.

Her legs twitch every time I shift, like her nerves are still fried and buzzing. I smooth my hand over her thigh, slow, grounding her, maybe myself, too.

“Jesus, sweetheart,” I murmur against her temple, pressing a kiss there. “You always fuck like the world’s ending?”

She laughs, hoarse and shaky, and goddamn if that sound doesn’t settle something wild in my chest.

She smells like sweat and sex and danger and I’m pretty sure I’ve never been harder for anyone in my life, even after coming. My cock’s still inside her, softening slow, but not in a hurry. She clenches around me once, lazy, and I groan.

“Careful,” I mutter. “Keep that up and I’ll forget you just got wrecked.”

She hums like she wants me to forget. Like she wants me to ruin her again.

I shift us, ease down, arm tucked under her head, legs tangled, chest to chest. She’s looking at me like I’m the fucking sunrise.

My fingers trace her lower back, lazy circles, and I kiss her again, slow this time, soft, tasting the edge of crazy on her lips and liking how it settles under my tongue.

She looks… content. Sated.

And I should probably be panicking. I should be asking more questions. Plotting an escape. Wondering how the hell I ended up cuffed and drugged and okay with it.

But all I can think is this hot little lunatic wants to keep me safe and shit, I’ve made worse choices.

Pamela set my truck on fire and didn’t even know how to shoot a gun. Maple’s got end-of-the-world plans and an ass like sin. She cooks, she fucks, and she wants to play apocalypse Barbie with me?