Page 2 of Come Fill Me

She forced herself to move down the hall, the edges of her doctor’s coat flapping away from her legs. Drawing in a ragged breath, she caught the light scent of baby powder mingled with the pungent odor of rubbing alcohol and too many flowery perfumes.

During her time with Carreon, he hadn’t allowed Liz to wear any fragrance.

“I want you to smell like me,”he’d murmured one night, lips to her ear, fingers exploring her cunt, his directive filled with wicked promise.

Liking it and his strong hand, she’d turned her face to his and smiled. He’d offered one in return.

It hadn’t reached his eyes. At the time, Liz saw possession and strength in his gaze, admiring both. Too late, she realized his intensity wasn’t honorable. It was cold. Deadly.

The door to one of the treatment rooms opened. Squealingwith happiness, a child tore out, running straight into Liz. The little girl, no more than two, hugged Liz’s legs, looking up at her. Eyes wide with surprise, the child waited to see what would happen.

Before even a hint of fear crossed that small face, Liz offered a reassuring smile. “Oops,” she teased, touching the little girl’s wispy brown curls, so soft they reminded her of kitten fur.

A grin broke across the toddler’s face with her lusty giggles.

Her mother joined them. “Sorry, Doctor. Come on, you.” Prying her daughter from Liz, she lifted the child into her arms and moved toward the waiting room.

Liz watched until they were out of sight and she had no choice except to join Carreon.

Her stomach knotted as she entered her office, stopping short of her desk, messy with patient files.

One of Carreon’s lieutenants flipped through a chart, reading her notes. His free hand rested on the butt of a gun holstered at his waist.

Liz frowned at his audacity.

The two remaining men moved to the opened door, blocking any attempt at escape.

They, like the man at her desk, were in their mid-twenties, their muscular bodies dressed in well-tailored gray jackets, white shirts, and black pants, their youthful faces devoid of compassion. Feral hunger simmered in their eyes.

They knew what the coming hours would bring.

Liz was unable to forget, marveling at her previous naiveté. Months into her and Carreon’s relationship, he’d shared her with the man at her desk. To this day, she had no idea what his name was. His thick, strong body was what had mattered as he fettered her wrists to the bed then took her repeatedly, using every orifice—her mouth, cunt, anus. Carreon had watched her losing all control, listening as she moaned in satisfaction.

Heat surged to her cheeks.

Turning from the men at her door, she spoke to the one at her desk. “Get away from that.”

He looked up, clearly surprised at her command. So different from the submissive mewls and whimpers she’d offered when he’d been inside of her.

She wasn’t that woman anymore. Not even trying to hide her disgust, Liz stared him down.

He smirked but did release her file.

She regarded Carreon.

In front of her window, he stood, his back to her, his tall frame clothed in an expensive Polo shirt and pants, both onyx black, an ominous color devoid of joy or hope. In stark contrast, the waning sun streamed over New Mexico’s Chihuahuan desert, intensifying its harsh beauty beneath a sunset of gold, purple, and rose.

The vivid hues called to Liz, urging her to go outside and bathe her face with the sun’s caressing warmth then run like hell toward normalcy that would never return. Those days had ended more than a year ago when she’d made the mistake of seeking excitement, not wanting or noticing anything except Carreon.

She still recalled his touch and scent. One of a rutting male who knew no shame and held nothing back, especially his hunger for power.

“Bad day, Liz?” he asked.

To a stranger, his question would have sounded downright serene. Having heard him speak the same way when ordering his men to torture and kill, knowing what he was capable of, Liz steeled herself for the worst.

At her continued silence, he faced her.

One of his men shut her door.

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