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By the time I gather her in my arms and carry her to the bed, she’s fast asleep.

She can tell herself she doesn’t trust me a hundred times over. Her body knows better. I will dismantle her walls and peel off her masks one by one. I will get to know her better than she knows herself.

And yes, I’ll make her my queen. It’s not debatable. Whether she wants it or not, her place is next to me.

Grinning, I can’t wait to see what she has prepared for me once she wakes up and realizes I slept in her bed, with her body flush to mine.

I fall asleep with purpose flowing through my veins, ready to do whatever is necessary to achieve my goal.

I didn’t just open insanity’s door, I hit it with a battering ram.

I’ve never slept so deeply that I have no memory of any dreams. Not even a recollection of falling asleep. I was just out of function, but it doesn’t surprise me after the night I had, filled with an overload of sensations, countless orgasms, and intense emotions.

I hate how he can reach inside me and uncover parts I kept locked, even from myself.

I hate how he can turn my violence against me and into a fuck fest.

And most of all, I hate that I can’t hate him at all.

Peeling my eyes open, the sun’s rays stream through the windows, the light catching in the chandelier’s crystals, dancing in a rainbow of colors.

Not wanting to wake him, I roll to my side, groaning under my breath. I am so deliciously sore; every step reminds me that he obliterated my hymen and fucked me so deep and intensely Istill feel his cock inside me.

The smell of soap and sex permeates the air. Inhaling it, a shiver trickles along my skin, making my thighs clench in response.

Naked, I tiptoe outside the bedroom. I walk toward the bar in the living room and pick out a bottle of water, downing it in one go. The cool liquid glides past my chin, rolling down my neck. With the back of my hand, I wipe the water from my skin, staying rooted in place for several minutes. Placing the bottle down, I palm the counter, closing my eyes. What the fuck am I doing here?

When I open them, I see the guns discarded on the carpet, bullets scattered around, just like my rationality. They paint a clear image of failure, tempting me to pick one and be done with this game I will lose otherwise.

Walking toward them, I grab both Glocks, then return to the bedroom. Standing by the foot of the bed, I wait for him to wake up, but his chest rises and falls with deep sleep.

Poking his feet with the muzzle of one, I graze his calf with the other.

It’s the smirk that gives him away. He turns on his back and opens his eyes, his expression stoic.

Scooting up in bed without a care and purposefully ignoring the guns in my hands, he leans against the hardboard.

He jerks his chin toward me as he says in his deep voice, scratchy with sleep, “Morning, amore.”

I lift both my hands and aim the guns at his chest. If only I could pull the triggers. No lockdown could keep me fromescaping. I could flee unscathed out of here long before he would draw his final breath.

He arches an arrogant brow, waiting. His self-assuredness is unnerving.

Seconds pass while I play with the triggers, pressing them slightly, but I stop myself from firing every time.

“I see you chose violence on this lovely day.”

I roll my eyes. He doesn’t care that I am pointing two freaking guns at him. He crosses his arms behind his neck, inhaling deeply just as his cock springs to attention.

At half-mast it’s impressive, but now fully hard, it’s something else entirely, reminding me that if I stayed in bed, I would now writhe and moan under him as he had his way with me. I sigh, not believing that I am frustrated at my choice of action.

“Come to bed and let me put that violence of yours to better use.”

Right then, as he inhales the heavy smell of sex, we both look at the irrefutable proof of what happened last night. Some pink spots and dried cum dot the sheets. He observes them with nostalgia and a heap of satisfaction.

“Will never forget how it felt breaking you in.”

He’s so crass, but I guess I don’t mind as much as I’d like. My huff of indignation is more for show. His dirty mouth puts me in the mood like nothing else.