Page 154 of The Christmas Wife

Okay, maybe not. I prop her up in the shower, turn on the water, soap her up, and wash every inch of her delectable body. She falls asleep in my arms halfway through. That doesn't stop me from slipping my throbbing dick inside of her and taking her. Or again later... When I've dried her and myself off and pulled the covers over her naked body—after I've made sure to close and lock the door to her apartment and ensured all of the windows are safely shut—I slip in beside her, curl my body around hers and try to fall asleep.

Only I can't, because I have a raging hard-on. Her proximity does that to me—turns me on, twists me inside out until I am sure I am one big, seething mass of need. I pull her leg up and over my hip, then guide myself inside of her soft pussy. A sense of peace, of rightness, steals over me. Fuck, this is what I've been missing all along—this melding sensation as I sink into her melting channel, and finish myself off in a few strokes, as I orgasm inside of her and she stirs. I curve my arm around her waist, pull her close and fall asleep with my dick nestled within her warmth.

Twelve o'clock.

Eleven o'clock.

Ten o'clock.

The goddam timer—an old fashioned clock fitted to run backwards—as my kidnapper had informed me, never stops counting down.

Every hour it helpfully rings out the time, so even though I am blindfolded, I have no choice but to follow along in my head.

Nine o'clock

Eight o'clock

Seven o'clock

Every hour brings me closer to the time when my kidnapper is going to come through the door.

Six o'clock

Five o'clock

Four o'clock

Twelve hours, that's how long he'd said he'd be away.

Three o' clock

Two o'clock

One o'clock

The timer passes the twelve-hour mark, and stops. The silence stretches. A beat, another.

My heart begins to race and sweat pools in my armpits. I tug my wrists against my bindings, and pain shoots up my arms. I draw in a breath and the acrid taste of fear fills my mouth. Something is wrong.

Why hasn't the bomb gone off as he'd said it would? Why hasn't my kidnapper returned for that matter? My throat closes, my hands and feet grow cold.

Today, I won't survive the beating. Today, something is different. Today is the day when he finishes it. When he doesn't stop electrocuting me until...my heart gives out.

My heart pounds in my chest, my pulse races, and my stomach coils in knots. The pressure builds at my temples. What's he going to do to me when he gets here?

My head spins and coldness grips my arms and legs... I won't last the day. I have to get through today. Need to focus, focus. Stay still; count down again.

Twelve o'clock.

Eleven o'clock.

Ten o'clock.

My heart beat slows and my pulse steadies. How strange. My biggest nemesis is also the only way I can calm my mind. Stay still, in the moment. You can't give up. Not yet. The door creaks open. I jolt upright. The change in the air indicates he's in the room. Footsteps approach as the door snicks shut. The hair at the back of my neck rises. Fuck. He's here, he's going to hit me...any moment. The floorboard creaks to my right, to the left, behind me. He circles me, comes closer.

"What should I do with you?" he mutters. "Leave you in your filth or put you out of your misery?"

Let me go, I try to say, the words muffled by my gag. Let me the fuck go, you asshole.

---