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We're just two bodies acting out of pure instinct and a spark of kismet.
The room tilts, my eyes opening and closing as I find myself in yet another shift in position.
My field of vision is blurry, and growing blurrier still, but I can make out the form of her body spread out before me, her hands cuffed to the frame of the bed as she moves from side to side. Her eyes are on me, her teeth raking over her lower lip as she awaits for my next move.
I tighten my hands over her ankles as I spread her legs further, impaling her in one swift thrust.
She lets out a harsh breath as she rotates her hips to angle me deeper inside of her.
"Please," her sweet moan reverberates through the room and surrounds my entire being with a sense of deep satisfaction. Especially when one hand travels up her body, my fingers wrapping around her lovely neck as I hold her securely, controlling each and every breath—each and every sound.
"You're mine," I declare, the ultimate truth.
I know it. She knows it. My goddamn drug-addled brain knows it.
"You're so fucking mine, Noelle. Always mine.Always," I growl, mercilessly pounding into her as I tip her chin up so she can look me in the eye—so she canonlysee me.
So she can see I'm the only one fucking her. Owning her.Destroyingher.
"So fucking mine," I purr as I bring my face closer to hers, inhaling her sweet scent and the way her entire body trembles when she hits her peak. Her walls close around me in the snuggest fit. And as her mouth opens on a half-strained breath, I plunge my tongue inside, tasting her, devouring everything thatisher.
My own climax is nearing. I can feel the signs just as I go harder, fucking her unlike I've ever fucked her before.
But just as I'm about to come, reality shifts again.
Yet this time… This time all control is wrenched from me.
The first thing I feel is dampness.
My entire body is covered in sweat, but not the type after an arduous workout, or a prolonged lovemaking session. No, it's the type that clings to my skin, clogging my pores and making me detest living in my own body.
I suddenly move, putting one step in front of the other and noting the room I find myself in—an ostentatious bedroom with frilly colors and all types of lace. It's fit more for a woman than a man.
Yet as I continue to walk, looking around and taking everything in, I realize the first odd thing.
It doesn’t feel like…me.
I'm still me, deep inside. But it's not me in charge. I can watch myself move, but I cannotmakemyself move.
I'm just a spectator in this sick show.
My mind is my own—mythoughtsare my own. But not my autonomy. That is forever out of reach.
As soon as that thought arises, I look down to see the shackles on my wrists.
Were they there before?
I test their strength, surprised by the heavy weight and the way they jiggle as I try to move my hands.
Yet that sound…that sound triggers something within me.
Like lightning flashing in my head, I instinctively know where I am and what is about to happen. And I'm fucking useless to stop it.
Awareness seeps in just like the fact that I've watched this scene before me one too many times.
One too many fucking times.
The door screeches open, and as I turn, I find myself face to face with a foreign man.
