Page 32 of Mine

Mine are too.

I have never felt such a craving before her. In the endless desert that has become my life, Sabine Hart is a sudden mirage of sustenance.

What is this feeling? All I know is that I don’t want to let it go—which is the other problem. I have made a deal with the devil. Her body for my wife’s. No matter which way I spin it, Sabine’s presence in my life is temporary.

So, maybe ... maybe for one night—for one night—I can get whatever the hell is happening inside me out of my system. I can screw her mindlessly and then walk away.

That’s all I need. Just one night.

But—no. No, no, no, Astor.

No.

Bad things happen when you take a woman for just one night.

Seventeen

Sabine

Astor releases my wrists, sending my arms falling around my waist like dead weight. “Again,” he says, low and menacing.

“Again? W—what?”

It takes a second to realize he’s asking me to slap him again.

“No,” I reply with exactly zero gumption.

“Again.” The word rumbles through his throat. He’s trembling again. “Hard this time, Sabine. Harder. Make it hurt.”

“Why?”

“Because I need a reason to punish you. I need a reason to tie you to the bed and fuck you until you come so many times you forget your own name.”

I am completely dumbfounded, unable to respond, unable to think, unable to breathe. I stare at him, gobsmacked.

When I don’t slap him, his eyes slowly ice over.

Switch, off.

“Smart decision, Miss Hart.”

With those words, Astor steps back, shoves me against the shower wall, turns, and walks out of the bathroom without so much as a glance.

My jaw drops. I stare at my flushed reflection in the mirror, unable to process what just happened. The whiplash of it all.

I listen to his brusque steps leave the room.

My heart is racing, my head spinning, my sex wet and throbbing.

The door slams shut.

What the hell just happened?

I hear a voice outside the room. Snapping out of my trance, I yank down my dress, dart out of the bathroom, and tiptoe in a jog to the door, then press my ear against it.

It’s Cillian. “Whoa, man. You okay, Astor?”

“No.”

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