(Elena pov)

  Bile burned its way up my throat again.

  I barely made it to the toilet before dropping to my knees, one hand braced against the cold porcein as my body heaved. It felt endless—like it had been going on for hours, my stomach cramping, my throat raw.

  "This can't be..." I whispered hoarsely before gagging again, retching until there was nothing left but pain.

  First the missed period. Two weeks ago.

  Now this—every morning, like clockwork.

  I stayed there, slumped against the toilet, breathing hard as I stared down at the mess I'd made. My hands were shaking.

  "Miguel..." The name slipped out without permission, quiet and terrified.

  He was the st person I'd slept with.

  My chest tightened as the realization fully settled in. With clumsy fingers, I reached for my phone and unlocked it, blinking through the nausea as I pulled up my messages.

  Mom.

  I typed quickly, urgently, before I could talk myself out of it—asking her to bring me a pregnancy test. Just in case. Just to be sure. Even thinking the words made my stomach churn again.

  "What the fuck am I gonna—" I started, my voice breaking—

  Then another wave hit.

  I bent forward, groaning as my body betrayed me all over again, the question left hanging in the air unanswered, heavy with fear.

  If I have a kid... how will I get Miguel back?

  The thought hit me hard, frustration fring hot in my chest—then twisting into something else entirely.

  No.

  If I was pregnant... then I would get him back.

  The idea settled in, slow and poisonous, and my breathing changed. A child wasn't an obstacle. It was proof. A tether. Something real he couldn't ignore or walk away from. He would have to come back. He was good. He was kind. Miguel wouldn't abandon something like that.

  I pressed my hand to my stomach, suddenly hyper-aware of my own body.

  I had to be pregnant.

  I needed to be.

  The realization sent a strange, unsettling warmth through me, blooming into excitement that scared me even as it grew. This was it—the final thread tying him to me. The thing that would undo whatever spell that woman had wrapped around him.

  I let out a quiet, breathless chuckle as my mind ran ahead of me—Miguel in this small apartment, careful and soft, holding our baby like it was something precious. Our little family. Something that couldn't be taken.

  Then my body lurched again.

  I barely had time to lean forward before retching into the bowl, the fantasy shattering as violently as it had formed. My stomach burned, my throat ached, and I gripped the edge of the toilet, shaking.

  Whatever this was—hope, fear—it was already making me sick.

  "I'll have you soon Miguel..."

  ——

  I looked into Car's eyes, my voice trembling as I spoke. "You don't even know, Car... Elena forced me into it, over and over, thousands of times. I hated every second of it... it made me feel so dirty, so wrong." Car's arms tightened around me, her warmth grounding me as I relived the memories of being pushed to perform with other women.

  My stomach churned at the thought. "She had me convinced it was love, that it was normal to feel this way."

  Car's breath was hot against my ear as she murmured, "I'd never do that to you. The thought of sharing you with anyone—it makes my skin crawl." Her words were a soothing balm, wrapping me in a sense of safety I hadn't felt in so long.

  I tilted my head, my lips brushing her neck as I whispered back with a small, bitter chuckle, "Your cunt feels so much better... so warm, so right." My fingers clutched at her shirt, pulling her closer.

  "Elena's was... cold sometimes. It felt so strange and really loose, like really loose. I kept telling myself that's just how it was supposed to be, that everyone must feel like that," I confided, my voice barely audible as I pressed my face into Car's chest.

  Her heartbeat thrummed against my cheek, steady and reassuring. The darkness of my past loomed, but as I nestled deeper into her embrace, it began to fade, swallowed by the comfort of her presence.

  "There was this one time," I said, grimacing, "she made me sleep with her old high-school bully. It was so uncomfortable... just thinking about it now makes my skin crawl."

  I shook my head lightly. "Yeah. Ew."

  (Fshback)

  A jittery storm churned in my gut as Sydney strode into the bedroom. She was Elena's highschool bully, her presence intimidating as hell.

  Her physique was a powerhouse—insanely muscur, broad-shouldered, and towering. Elena, with her toned frame and healthy build, looked like a fragile toy in comparison.

  The realization of my vulnerability smmed into me. I was stark naked, sitting on the bed, completely exposed and waiting to be taken apart.

  My throat tightened as I swallowed hard, watching Sydney's heavy footsteps close the distance. She dropped onto the bed beside me, the mattress dipping under her weight.

  Her eyes raked over me, dark and hungry. "This bitch looks ripe for a hard pounding," she snarled, her voice low and rough, sending a shiver through my bare skin. My body trembled, a mix of fear and anticipation prickling every nerve.

  In the corner of the room, Elena sat watching, her breaths already quickening. Her hand moved over her clothed cunt, fingers rubbing slow circles as her eyes locked onto us, greedy and eager for the show about to unfold.

  "Damn, what a tight little body you've got, bitch," she growled, her voice low and dripping with hunger.

  Her rough, calloused hands roamed over me, groping with greedy intent. She squeezed my chest, her fingers digging into my skin as she traced every curve of my torso, her touch harsh and possessive.

  I could hear her breath hitch, a wet, hungry sound escaping her lips, almost like she was salivating at the sight of me.

  "Fuck... so fuckin' hot," she muttered under her breath, her eyes raking over me like I was a prize.

  "How the hell did Elena snag a sexy little whore like you? Shit, maybe you should ditch her and come with me instead." Her words sent a shiver down my spine, and I swallowed hard, my throat tight with fear.

  My heart raced at the thought that Elena might actually let her take me.

  "Hey!" Elena snapped, cutting through the tension like a knife. Her voice was sharp, ced with irritation, and it drew a hard, challenging stare from Sydney, whose grip on me tightened for just a moment before her gaze flicked to Elena.

  She clicked her teeth together sharply—a wet, impatient sound—before her gaze locked back onto mine.

  Her hands resumed their restless exploration, sliding over my skin with deliberate possession. Fingers trailed down my chest, then lower, before both palms finally settled around my throat.

  She squeezed—not enough to choke, but enough to make my pulse hammer wildly beneath her grip, blood surging hot and heavy downward, leaving my head light and my legs unsteady.

  "Fragile little bitch," she murmured, voice low and almost affectionate in its cruelty.

  She released me abruptly. The sudden absence of pressure left faint, reddening imprints of her fingers blooming across my skin like a brand. I swallowed hard, the motion painful, and when I looked up her eyes were dark, pupils blown wide with raw hunger.

  Without breaking eye contact, she began to strip. Each piece of clothing came away slowly, deliberately, as though she were unwrapping something fragile and expensive only to ruin it ter.

  The shirt slid off her shoulders first, revealing the sharp line of her colrbones and the taut curve of her breasts. Then the bra—unhooked with a casual flick—fell away. Pants and underwear followed, peeled down long heavy legs until she stood completely bare, skin flushed with heat, every line of her body radiating coiled power.

  She climbed onto the bed in one fluid motion, straddling my hips, knees pinning me to the mattress. Her hands were everywhere again—greedy, shameless—cupping, squeezing, dragging nails down my ribs hard enough to leave pale trails that quickly pinked.

  She leaned in and sank her teeth into the side of my neck, just below the jaw. The bite was deep, possessive; I felt the sharp sting give way to dull, throbbing heat as she growled low against my skin, the sound vibrating through bone.

  A broken sound escaped me—half-whimper, half-plea.

  "Stop... it hurts. Please..."

  The words trembled out, small and useless. My hands stayed limp at my sides, fingers curling weakly into the sheets instead of pushing her away. I could have fought. I didn't.

  Not for me.

  For Elena.

  I didn't want to disappoint her.

  So I let the pain bloom, let her mouth mark me again and again—teeth grazing, then biting, then soothing the fresh welts with slow, mocking licks—while my body shook beneath her and my breath came in shallow, ragged gasps.

  "Perfect little bitch..." Sydney whispered, the words curling hot against my ear like smoke.

  My knees buckled instantly, legs trembling as her hand closed around my cock. Her palm was rough—calloused from years of whatever hard-edged life she led—and the friction was almost too much, scraping along the sensitive length with every fast, demanding stroke.

  She jerked me with ruthless efficiency, no gentleness, no pause, just tight, twisting pulls that made my hips jerk forward despite myself.

  The sting mingled with sharp, unwilling pleasure; my breath hitched into shallow, broken gasps.

  "There we go... nice and ready," she murmured, voice thick with satisfaction.

  Before the words even settled, she shifted—lined me up—and sank down in one brutal motion. No warning, no slow stretch, just the sudden, vise-like heat of her swallowing me whole. Her walls clenched tight around me, impossibly snug, and the shock of it ripped a strangled sound from my throat.

  "Fuck—wait—"

  The plea was useless. She didn't wait. She didn't slow. She pnted both hands on my chest, nails digging crescent moons into my skin, and started riding me hard—merciless, punishing strokes that smmed me deeper into the mattress with every downward thrust.

  The bedframe groaned under the force; my body rocked helplessly beneath her, cock throbbing inside her punishing grip.

  Each time she bottomed out, a wet, obscene sp echoed in the room, her hips grinding down like she wanted to bruise me from the inside.

  I turned my head, vision blurring at the edges, and caught sight of Elena in the shadowed corner.

  She was naked now—completely bare, skin glowing faintly in the low light. One leg hooked over the arm of the chair, thighs spread wide.

  Her fingers worked between her legs in slow, deliberate circles, slick and glistening as she rubbed her swollen cunt.

  Her eyes were locked on us—on me—half-lidded, lips parted, cheeks flushed dark with arousal. She didn't speak. She didn't need to. The way she touched herself, zy and unhurried while Sydney fucked me raw, said everything.

  Sydney ughed low in her throat, a dark, pleased sound, and leaned down until her breasts dragged across my chest, nipples hard against my skin.

  "Keep looking at her," she growled, hips snapping faster, tighter. "Let her see what a good little slut you are for me."

  My hands fisted the sheets, knuckles white. I couldn't look away from Elena—even as Sydney's rhythm turned brutal, even as the pleasure-pain coiled tighter and tighter in my gut, threatening to snap.

  I wanted to cry. The pressure behind my eyes burned, hot and insistent, tears prickling at the corners like they might spill any second.

  Every brutal snap of Sydney's hips drove the air from my lungs in sharp, helpless bursts; my body felt too small, too fragile beneath her relentless rhythm.

  I wanted it to stop—God, I wanted it to stop—but then I caught another glimpse of Elena in the corner, legs spyed, fingers buried deep inside herself, her chest heaving with soft, needy moans every time Sydney cimed another piece of me.

  I couldn't disappoint her. Not Elena. So I swallowed the sob cwing up my throat and forced myself to stay still, to take it, to let the pain twist into something I could endure for her.

  Sydney's face hovered inches above mine now. A thin string of saliva glistened between her parted lips before it broke, dripping warm and slick onto my tongue.

  She groaned low in her throat, then crashed her mouth against mine—rough, devouring. Her tongue shoved past my teeth without asking, tasting of salt and heat and something faintly metallic. She kissed like she fucked: possessive, bruising, no room for gentleness. My lips stung where she bit down, and when she pulled back just enough to breathe, a wet smear of spit connected us for a filthy second before snapping.

  In the corner, Elena's moan sharpened—higher, more desperate—as she watched us devour each other. Her fingers moved faster between her thighs, slick sounds carrying across the quiet room.

  "Who's my bitch..." Sydney rasped against my mouth, voice dark and thick with lust.

  Her inner walls cmped down suddenly, hard and deliberate, squeezing my cock so tightly my vision whited out at the edges. My eyes flew wide; my toes curled painfully against the sheets. A fresh spike of ache nced through my overworked pelvis—too much friction, too much pressure—but the involuntary jolt of pleasure that followed made my hips buck up into her despite myself.

  "Who's my bitch, I said."

  She grunted the words this time, low and dangerous. Both hands slid up to wrap around my throat again—fingers overpping at the front, thumbs pressing just under my jaw.

  She squeezed, slow at first, then harder, cutting off my air in a smooth, controlled vise. Bck spots danced at the corners of my sight; my pulse thundered in my ears, loud enough to drown out everything except the wet, obscene pp-pp-pp of her hips smming down onto mine.

  "Say it, whore."

  The demand was a growl. She didn't let up—not the chokehold, not the punishing rhythm. My poor pelvis ached with every punishing thrust, bones grinding, skin raw and sensitive where her body met mine over and over.

  I tried to speak. Nothing came out at first—just a strangled wheeze. She loosened her grip the tiniest fraction, just enough for a thin thread of air to scrape through.

  "I am..." The words escaped high and cracked, almost cartoonish in their pitch, trembling on the edge of a sob.

  Her hands eased immediately. Sweet oxygen flooded back in, making my head spin. I gasped, chest heaving, while she kept riding me—slower now, but no less deep, no less cruel. A satisfied hum vibrated in her throat as she leaned down, lips brushing the shell of my ear.

  "Good boy," she purred, the praise dripping like venom. "Such a perfect little bitch for me..."

  Across the room, Elena let out a broken, shuddering whimper—her fingers faltering for a heartbeat before plunging back in, chasing her own edge while she watched me break beneath Sydney's weight.

  I couldn't look away from her. Even as my body screamed, even as Sydney cimed every inch of me with fast, grinding rolls of her hips, all I could think was:

  "This is for you."

  "I'll take it all."

  "For you."

  "Fuck! This dick is too good..." Sydney moaned, the words ripping out of her in a raw, throaty rasp.

  The room was thick with sound—loud, wet pps of skin spping skin, obscene squelches every time she smmed herself down, taking me to the hilt.

  Her pussy was drenched, slick and greedy, coating my cock in a glistening sheen that made every thrust glide deeper, harder. She rode me like she was trying to break me in half, hips rolling with brutal precision, inner walls fluttering and clenching in waves that dragged desperate, involuntary sounds from my throat.

  "She can't fuck you like this, can she..." Sydney taunted, voice dripping with cruel delight. She leaned forward, breasts dragging across my chest, nipples scraping sensitive skin.

  "Poor little Elena the cuck... watching her boyfriend get stolen right in front of her. Stolen and ruined."

  Her eyes flicked toward the corner—mocking, triumphant—before snapping back to mine. She grinned, all teeth, then drove down even harder, grinding her clit against my pelvis on every punishing downstroke.

  The pressure was unbearable; my body jerked beneath her, cock throbbing helplessly inside her spasming heat.

  "Take it! Fucking take it!"

  She snarled the command, then dropped her head and sank her teeth into the crook of my neck—harder than before. The sharp sting exploded into white-hot pain; I felt the skin break under her canines, a thin trickle of warmth sliding down toward my colrbone.

  She growled against the fresh mark, tongue pping at the coppery taste as she fucked me faster, shallower now, frantic.

  A few more savage pounds—deep, punishing—and her whole body seized.

  "OHH FUCK!"

  The cry tore from her lungs, loud and unashamed. Her pussy cmped down like a fist, pulsing rhythmically around my length as she came undone.

  Hot, wet spasms milked me relentlessly; the sudden, vise-like grip tipped me over the edge without mercy. My legs shook violently, thighs trembling against the mattress as my own orgasm ripped through me—thick pulses spilling deep inside her, mixing with the flood of her release.

  Every contraction of her walls dragged another helpless spurt from me until I was gasping, oversensitive, twitching beneath her weight.

  From the shadowed corner came a softer, broken sound—Elena's climax hitting her like a quiet storm.

  Her fingers were still buried between her thighs, moving in frantic little circles as her hips bucked against her own hand. A low, shuddering whimper escaped her parted lips; her head tipped back against the chair, eyes gssy and fixed on us, cheeks streaked with tears she hadn't bothered to wipe away.

  She came with her mouth open in a silent cry, body trembling through the aftershocks while she watched the st of Sydney's pleasure wring me dry.

  Sydney stayed seated on me for a long moment, breathing hard, pussy still fluttering around my spent cock. She licked a slow, deliberate stripe up the fresh bite on my neck, tasting the faint salt of blood and sweat.

  Then she looked over her shoulder at Elena—slow, deliberate, victorious.

  "See that, cuck?" she purred, voice wrecked but smug. "That's what a real fuck looks like."

  Elena didn't answer. She just stared—chest heaving, fingers still glistening between her legs—silent, wrecked, and impossibly aroused.

  Sydney finally lifted herself off me with a wet, obscene sound. My cock slipped free, softening and slick with both of us, twitching feebly against my stomach. She slid two fingers down between her thighs, gathering the messy mix of our releases, then brought them to my lips.

  "Clean up," she ordered softly.

  I opened my mouth without thinking—tongue sliding over her fingers, tasting salt and heat and the sharp edge of shame.

  Across the room, Elena's breath hitched again.

  And I knew—we weren't done yet.

  ——

  (Present)

  "I won't have to worry about that ever happening now..." I murmured, voice soft and rough around the edges as I curled tighter into Car's side. Her body was warm—solid, grounding—like the only safe pce left in a world that kept trying to tear me apart.

  I pressed my cheek to the smooth curve of her breast, breathing in the faint scent of her skin: vanil from her lotion, a trace of gun oil that never quite washed out, and something uniquely her.

  God, I loved this woman. More than I knew how to say. More than I'd ever thought I could love anyone.

  Car's arm tightened around me, fingers threading gently through my hair, nails scraping lightly against my scalp in that soothing rhythm, she knew I needed this after nights like tonight.

  She shifted just enough to tuck me closer, her heartbeat steady against my ear—strong, unhurried, alive.

  "I love you, Miguel..." she whispered, lips brushing the shell of my ear, warm breath sending a quiet shiver down my spine. "Too much to even show."

  I closed my eyes, letting the words sink in deep, wrapping around the cracked parts of me like a bandage.

  "I promise..." she continued, voice low and fierce, the kind of promise she only made when she meant to keep it with blood if she had to. "I'll get out of this business eventually. And we can live a life without danger. No running. No looking over our shoulders. Just... us."

  I nodded against her chest, throat too tight to speak at first. When I finally managed words, they came out small, almost fragile. "Yeah. Just us."

  She tilted my chin up with two fingers—gentle, reverent—and pressed a slow kiss to my forehead.

  Her lips lingered there, soft and warm, like she was sealing the vow into my skin. Then she kissed the bridge of my nose, the corner of my eye.

  Each one felt like an apology for every time she'd had to leave me waiting, every time she'd come home sad or frustrated or pretending she wasn't scared.

  I turned my face into her palm when she cupped my cheek, kissing the center of it, tasting salt from earlier tears I hadn't let fall until now.

  "Nothing can touch me when I'm with you," I said quietly, the truth of it settling heavy and certain in my chest.

  Car smiled—small, real, the kind that only came out when it was just the two of us and the rest of the world was locked outside. She pulled the bnket higher over us, cocooning our bodies together until there was no space left between.

  Her leg slid over mine, possessive in the softest way, anchoring me.

  "Then stay right here," she whispered, lips brushing my temple. "I've got you, baby. Always."

  ———

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