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He’s thick, so thick, and I have to bite my lip to keep from crying out as he fills me completely.

"Fuck, you’re tight," he groans, his hands gripping my hips, his fingers digging into my skin. I rock my hips experimentally, and we both moan at the sensation.

"Move," I command, my voice breathless. "Fuck me, Samuel."

His hips thrust up, meeting me stroke for stroke, his cock hitting that sweet spot inside me with every thrust. I cry out, my nails digging into his shoulders as pleasure spirals through me again, my orgasm building fast.

"Harder," I beg, my voice breaking. "Faster, Samuel. Please."

He growls, his hands gripping my hips harder, lifting me slightly before slamming me back down onto his cock. The bed creaks beneath us, the sound of our bodies slapping together filling the room. I can feel myself getting closer, my orgasm coiling tight in my belly.

"Cum with me," I gasp, my voice desperate. "I want to feel you when you do."

He roars, his cock pulsing inside me as he spills himself, his release filling me in hot, thick pulses.

We collapse against each other, our chests heaving, our skin slick with sweat. His arms wrap around me, pulling me close, and I rest my head against his shoulder, my heart pounding in my chest.

"Holy shit," I whisper, my voice barely audible.

He chuckles, low and throaty, his breath ruffling my hair. "Yeah," he agrees, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. "Holy shit."

EPILOGUE

SAMUEL—ONE YEAR LATER

One year changes everything. Last October, Doug stood on my porch with a gun and promised to kill me if I followed him. Tonight, he stands beside my fireplace drinking bourbon and helping Sophie carve a jack-o’-lantern.

He’s terrible at it.

“That looks nothing like a cat,” Sophie says.

Doug turns the pumpkin toward her. “It has ears.”

“It has horns.”

“They’re ears.”

“It looks possessed.”

“Sam?” Doug asks. “Settle this.”

I study the jagged creature carved into the pumpkin. “Possessed.”

Sophie laughs. The sound fills every empty space inside me.

Doug mutters something about betrayal, but he’s smiling. There’s no lingering sign of what Viktor did to him beyond a faint scar near his eyebrow. The cuts and bruises healed within weeks. The concussion took a little longer, but the doctors cleared him months ago.

He survived. Sophie survived. Some mornings, I wake beside her and still can’t believe I was given a life where both of those things are true.

Sophie’s ugly pumpkin sits on the mantel. She dried and preserved it after last Halloween. I didn’t know people did that. I also didn’t know one lopsided gourd could become the most guarded object in the Adirondacks.

But Sophie loves it. So I protect it. That’s what I do with the things she loves.

Doug moves beside me as Sophie carries her pumpkin onto the porch.

“You nervous?” he asks.

“No.”