I blink my eyes hard to fight back the tears that want to well up. His words are coarse and beautiful, sexy and sweet. Only a man such as the one between my legs right now could talk about cock and pussy and make it almost sound like he’s saying he loves me. My heart thumps in adoration.

“Tell me you understand so I can make you come and then fuck you hard,” he says with a grin.

“I understand,” I tell him with a tender smile.

His eyes soften and he mumbles, “My pussy,” before he descends back on me again.

My orgasm comes quick and hits me hard, and it’s a product more of his words than of his touch, but I revel in it all the same.

“That’s it,” Beck whispers as he presses kisses on my stomach while he crawls back up my body. He’s in control and fluidly raises one of my legs with a hand to the back of my knee, presses his cock right to my entrance, and surges up and into me.

“Ooohhhh,” I moan over the thick invasion deep inside of me.

“Christ, that feels good,” Beck says with his mouth pressed into my neck.

His hips move, his cock slides back, almost to the tip. Beck lifts his face and stares at me before surging in again. He bottoms out inside me hard and grunts out his pleasure from the feeling.

Back out again, slow…measured…deliberate.

Eyes connected to me.

Slam.

Back into me again.

His actions are leisurely, his gaze is tender, and his cock is dominating.

It’s exactly what I needed to assure me that Beck doesn’t see me as a victim. His mouth between my legs and his declaration of possession was what I needed for Beck to assure me I was still as beautiful to him as ever, despite the perverted things done to my body ten years ago.

Beck continues to pull out slowly, ram back into me with bruising reclamation. His pace picks up only slightly, but his fucking of me is deliberately possessive. His actions speak to me loudly, and as he pushes me closer and closer to another orgasm, I feel my heart becoming more and more enslaved to him.

We’ll work this out…whatever needs to be done about JT.

But that’s a side issue right now.

What’s more important is what we have between us, and I vow that’s where I’m going to put my attention from this moment forward.

I lean my elbow on the kitchen island counter, the fingers on my other hand moving over the track pad on my laptop to pull up my calendar.

“Move Thursday’s ideation session to week after next,” I tell Linda, who is listening in via my phone lying on the counter in speaker mode. “Cancel tomorrow’s meeting with JT and just ask him to email me the proposed business and marketing plans. We don’t need a meeting for that.”

“Got it,” she says over the speaker. “What about the second round reviews of the video component? Programming is slated to begin changes on Monday.”

“I’ll work on those remotely,” I tell her.

Hopefully, remotely means far, far away from here if I can convince Sela to be impulsive with me.

“Anything else?” Her tone is sharp and brisk. She’s in full executive secretary mode.

“Yeah,” I say as a thought strikes me. “Why don’t you take the rest of the week off too.”

“Just because you won’t be in the office doesn’t mean there’s not work to do,” she chides me.

“Yeah, well, I say you can ignore the work and take the time off,” I counter.

“We’ll see,” is all she says, but I can hear the smile in her voice. “Let me know where you’re going and I’ll make the reservations for you.”

“Thanks, Linda,” I say before reaching over to my phone and disconnecting the call.

As I grab my cup of coffee beside my laptop, my eyes land on Sela, who’s walking into the main living area. She gives a big yawn and scratches the skin on her belly, which is peeking out beneath the hem of a tight tank she wore to bed.

“Why are you up so early?” she asks, her voice still heavy with sleep.

And let’s face it. She didn’t get much last night, as we had a few days to make up for in the sex department.

I’m not going to lie…that first time was all kinds of awkward at first. Rationally, I knew Sela’s rape was years ago, and she had clearly moved past many of her hang-ups. There’s no doubt that in our time together, she was giving herself fully to me and enjoyed it as much as I did. Hell, just the way I can make her come so hard and fast was a testament that she was comfortable and trusting with me.

But still…scabbed wounds get scraped open and start bleeding, so you handle the body with care. Same goes for emotional wounds, and my instinct was to tread delicately with her.

Sela felt differently though, and I’ll admit, her position made sense. She didn’t want me stroking her with kid gloves. She wanted to feel alive and normal.

She wanted to feel.

So I felt her up nicely. Fucked her three times last night, feeling her up in between. It reminded me of the night she sucked my dick in the limo, swallowing me down and searching for more. That night we were rabid for one another.

Last night was the same.

I want more of the same today, and the next day, and the day after that.

“Got up around six,” I tell her as I push away from the laptop and walk over to the stove. I grab the kettle, turn to the sink, and fill it with enough water to make her a cup of tea. Once it’s heating, I turn back toward Sela. She’s watching me with a soft smile as she sits on one of the barstools on the opposite side of the island.

While her water heats, I move back to the counter and lean forward on it, the bottoms of my forearms pressed against the cold granite. “Do you have a passport?”

She blinks at me slowly, but nods. “I did a semester in London my junior year of college.”

“You did?” I ask, slightly amazed she’d do something so far out of her comfort zone. I’ve come to find out in just a few short days just how fucked up Sela’s existence was for a very long time because of what was done to her. “That was pretty brave.”

Sela gives me an impish smile and says, “I did come out of my shell as time went on, you know. I tried new things.”

“I’m impressed.”

“Yeah, well…it’s not like I backpacked through the wilds of Kenya or anything,” she says in a self-deprecating way, and that causes me to laugh.