"That's it," he growls. "Fight all you want. You're still mine."
He fucks me against the wall, hard and brutal, my struggles only seeming to excite him more.
I come embarrassingly fast, the fantasy made reality overwhelming me.
But he doesn't stop.
Doesn't let me recover.
He drags me to the next room, bends me over a dusty conference table, and takes me again.
Then, on the floor of a supply closet, and again against a window overlooking the city lights below.
Each time is intense, primal.
The predator catching his prey over and over.
By the time he's finished with me, I can barely stand.
He carries me back to his private room, and I think finally, finally, the night will continue as planned.
I must drift off because I wake to shouting.
Not in the room—somewhere outside.
Male voices, one louder than the others, slurred with alcohol.
"I know she's here! I tracked her phone! Selene! SELENE!"
David.
Oh fuck, David is here.
I scramble up, grabbing for something to cover myself, but Cassius is already at the door, fully dressed.
When did he get dressed?
"Your ex is making a scene," he says coldly.
"I didn't—I had no idea he would?—"
"He's threatening to call the police. Says you've been kidnapped." His eyes are deadly calm. "This is a problem."
Through the door, I can hear David more clearly now, "I'll call every news station! Everyone will know what goes on here! Where is she? What have you done with her?"
"I'll talk to him. I'll make him leave."
"Oh, you will. One way or another." Cassius opens the door wider. "Handle this, or I handle him. Permanently."
The threat is clear. David will die if I don't fix this.
"Get dressed," Cassius orders. "Handle this."
I throw on the dress, not bothering with underwear, and follow him out.
David is in the main area of Hell, being held back by security.
He looks terrible—disheveled, drunk, desperate.
