It’s not, though. I am certain of it. Even if the nightmares come, I’m not going to run again. Not unless I’m running to Jackson.

“Will you tell me what’s in the trunk?”

He smiles as he comes toward me with the length of black silk. “I’ll do better than that. I’ll show you. But not tonight. Tonight, I don’t intend to let you see anything.” He motions for me to sit up. “Kneel,” he says, “but keep your knees apart, your hands behind you.”

“You’re going easy on me,” I say as he puts the blindfold around my eyes and secures it. I try to keep my tone teasing, but some accusation comes through.

“Easy?” he retorts. “Or starting slow? Giving us something to build to? But if you have complaints, be sure to tell me.” As he speaks, his finger slides inside me, and I arch up, reacting to this unexpected pleasure.

He had touched me nowhere before, and the penetration surprises me, sending shocks of awareness through me, and heightening my senses. It is as if I am a spring waiting to pop, and as he withdraws his finger, I moan in protest, because now there is no contact at all, and I am left to the mercy of awareness and anticipation.

It’s a state I’ve never been in before, and I am more aroused than I have ever been. So no. I’m definitely not complaining.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says. “Your breasts,” he whispers as he touches my lips. “Your cunt,” he murmurs as he flicks my nipple. “Your lips,” he says, as he strokes my clit. Every touch is in contrast to his words, and I bite down on my lip trying to keep a grip on the sensual symphony that he is playing across my body.

“This is how I want you,” he says. “Open to me. Trusting me. So aroused and beautiful. You fit me, Sylvia. We fit each other. Every time I touch you it’s a gift. Every time I kiss you, I find myself just a little bit more.”

“Jackson …” His words are melting me, squeezing tight around my heart.

“Lean forward,” he orders. “Knees and forearms.”

I do, and I feel the bed shift as he gets on beside me. I try to judge where he will touch me from the shift of the mattress, but it’s no use. I feel his lips on the back of my neck, then traveling down my spine. Then his hands cup the curve of my rear.

“You have the most perfect ass,” he says, and then kisses each cheek as if paying homage before silently urging me to spread my legs.

I hesitate, but not because I do not want to comply. On the contrary, I’m astounded by how much I want to do exactly that. By how easily and perfectly Jackson pegged me. The control I’d been grabbing with the men I’d claimed at places like Avalon was only an illusion. A bandage over pain and memory. But this—this is what I want. What makes me feel. And I trust Jackson enough to let go and do exactly that.

“Now,” he urges, and I comply, then quiver with delight as he cups my sex, then strokes me all the way up, over my perineum, my ass, then along my spine, moving his own body in closer as he leans over me. The feeling is delicious, as if he is tracing a cord across my body, and with one quick tug he will light me up.

At some point, he stripped off his clothes, and the new sensation of skin upon skin makes sparks skitter all over me. “I should draw this out,” he says. “I should tease you until you’re close to breaking. But dammit, Sylvia, I’ve wanted you all day. Imagined you at that damn party with your cunt slick and hot and waiting for me. Had my mouth on your cunt. Held you naked in my lap on the deck. I’ve imagined fucking you so many times today, that I can’t wait any longer.”

“Then don’t,” I say, bending my arms so that I’m right there, open for him. Wet for him.

“Oh, Christ, Syl. You’re going to destroy me.”

I feel him move. Feel his hands grip my hips. And then the sweet pressure of his fingers teasing me, opening and stretching me before he takes me. His cock is thick, but I’m so ready for him, and when he thrusts into me, at first slowly, and then with increasing wildness, I cry out in welcome and abandon.

I am bent over as he pounds into me, from this position unable to match his thrusts, and so I am at his mercy, letting him hold me still and use me to find his rhythm, letting his fingers reach around to stroke my clit in time with his thrusts. I’ve never been fucked like this before, and I like it. It makes me feel open and wild. It makes me feel like I’m his.

And when he explodes inside me—when he continues to tease my clit and urges me to “let go, baby, just let go”—I find my release, too, and explode so violently that my body goes limp and I collapse onto the bed, still blind, but thoroughly and completely sated.