His scent envelopes me, spicy, warm and addictive.

I can’t stop breathing him in, and I can’t stop the temperature of my blood from rising.

There’s something wrong with me. I shouldn’t be getting turned on like this. Perhaps I’m already experiencing Stockholm Syndrome…

I squeeze my thighs together and try not to think about how heavy my breasts feel as they rise and fall with every deep breath. Or how he was unashamed of the erection tenting his pants before he climbed into bed.

Thank god he’s not forcing himself upon me, and thank god he’s promised not to hurt my children. Maybe I shouldn’t believe his promise but I get the impression when he says something he means it.

I was tempted to put up more of a fight earlier but the look on his face made me think better of it. No, I’m better off biding my time for the moment.

Besides the man holding me, there are at least three other men present in the house that I know of. I’m not foolish enough to think I’ll be able to wake Adam and Evelyn and get past all of them.

I could call the police but I know it will do no good. The more and more I come to terms with this, my new reality, my awful situation, the more and more I’m putting together the pieces.

I’ve heard the name Lucifer before. He and his men are notorious for their criminal exploits and their viciousness.

Every couple of weeks or so the news tends to run a story on them. There’s usually some horrible crime—a murder, a massacre, or someone important gone missing—and usually Lucifer or his men are suspected of being behind it, but the authorities can never prove it.

How Marshall got mixed up with him, I’ll never understand it. But I’ll also never forgive him for forcing me and our children to pay for his transgressions.

Lucifer’s warm breath hits the back of my neck and I shiver, my nipples tightening. His chest begins to rise and fall against me in a steady rhythm.

He’s asleep… or perhaps it’s a test. Either way, I’m not going to try to make a run for it… yet.

Tomorrow, in the light of day, I remind myself. I’ll get us away. We’ll head across the country and stay with my parents. Then, if it comes to it, we’ll move to another country. Whatever it takes to get away from these awful men.

I was planning on doing that anyway after divorcing Marshall.

It’s a good plan.

I just have to keep reminding myself of that. I need to bide my time.

I can get us out of this.



Somehow, someway I fall asleep. Lulled into a false sense of security by Lucifer’s deep and steady breathing.

My dreams are vivid and heated. A man, I can’t see his face in my dreams, is kissing my neck and caressing my breasts.

I groan and try to roll away but there’s an arm locked around my waist like a vise. I can’t escape, I’m trapped.

Between my thighs, my sex is throbbing madly, and I can’t stop rubbing my knees together trying to ease it.

Behind me I feel something hard grinding into my ass and I thrust my hips back, grinding myself against it. I don’t know what’s going on.

Am I awake? Am I still dreaming?

If I’m dreaming I don’t want to wake up.

I want that hardness inside me. Filling me. Stretching me.

It’s been so long, so very long since I’ve been touched, kissed, caressed or fucked. Months and months.

I’ve been starved for touch and affection.

The lips kissing my neck reach my shoulder and my skin prickles with gooseflesh as the strap of my nightie is pushed down and cool air hits my breast.

A warm hand covers my breast, cupping it, kneading it. Then strong fingers pinch and roll my nipple. I bite my lip and groan, rocking my hips back.

I never want this dream to end.

The arm locked around my waist loosens and then a hand is sliding down, yanking up my chemise.

Dragging up my thigh and pulling my panties to the side.

I become very aware of my wetness, of the air against my throbbing flesh.

The hand on my breast squeezes hard just as the hand dragging up my thighs reaches my sex.

Touch me. Touch me, please, I want to beg but in this dream, I can’t get the words past my lips.

A puff of hot air hits my neck and then thick fingers brush across my swollen folds. I shudder and a whimper slips past my lips.

My hips jerk forward and the hard bulge follows me, grinding rougher into my ass. The fingers drag up, spreading me open.


It’s been so long, my sex is aching with need and clenching down on emptiness.

I’m not sure I even remember what’s it’s like to have an orgasm.

A mouth touches my neck and a hard suckle is pulled back.

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