“Why don’t you let me make you feel better?”

  He started kissing my neck, making slopping sounds as I cautiously prodded at my eye, being careful to move slowly lest he felt that I wasn’t fully into the kiss. Not that I was ever fully into our kisses, and not that he ever noticed. My eye tugged. It was still bleeding.

  I’m shocked out of the memory when the man with the gunshot wound swaggers into the bar. Tall, muscular, red-headed, wearing a black hoodie and blue jeans with army-style boots.

  Instinctively I take out my pocket mirror and touch up my makeup. My face has an elfin quality, I’ve been told, and I highlight it by curling my hair to frame it. Otherwise my hair falls halfway down my back, long and blonde. I’m not skinny, but I lost those twenty Clint pounds a few months ago. I guess I’m what’s called curvy.

  I watch him as he approaches the bar. He’s got dark brown eyes, I see when he gets closer. And a wicked grin. He’s got the sort of smile which makes my mind go to dark places. I tell myself it’s the just the vodka, but I’ve only had a couple. I’m tipsy, but not drunk. I’m nowhere near close to the point of not knowing what I’m doing. I lay my chin in my hand and watch as he leans across the bar and hails the barman.

  “Hello, sir,” he says, smiling. The way he says “sir” is like he knows that he’s really the boss, almost as if he’s subtly making fun of the barman. He doesn’t seem affected by his gunshot wound except for wincing slightly as he points to the drink he wants. “But you see, the problem is I haven’t got any money. I’m short on funds, so to speak.”

  The barman squints at him. “Then I can’t get you a drink,” he says. “What’d you think was gonna happen, mister, if you walk up to a bar with no money?”

  I don’t think. I have spent so much of my life up until this point just thinking, pondering, going over and over and over …So as I walk to the bar, I blot my mind. “I’ll pay for his drink,” I say.

  A thrill runs over me when he looks at me with those dark brown eyes. “Well, thank you, miss.”

  The barman starts pouring the drink.

  “Aren’t you the man I saw bleeding on a stretcher?”

  He nods shortly. “Quite possibly, ma’am. I’ve done my fair share of bleedin’ tonight.”

  “And now you’re here.”

  “I can tell you’re the observing type.” I suppose my accent is thick, but this man’s is thicker, a real Texan twang that makes me think of long, dusty plains. “What do I take as the reason for this kindness?” he asks as the barman hands him his drink.

  I pay and we go to my table. He sits down and sips his drink, closing his eyes and savoring it. “Nothing like a good ice-cold beer after being hit with lead.”

  “You seem pretty calm for a man who was just shot.”

  “And you seem pretty calm for a lady who just finished her drink in one sip.”

  He nods at my glass. He’s right. I didn’t even realize. I go to the bar and get another vodka and Coke, and then return to the table.

  “So, what do you do for a living?” he asks.

  “I’d rather not talk about it.”

  “Just making conversation, ma’am, and believe me, it ain’t something I’m partial to normally. But seeing as you were kind enough to purchase this here beer for me, I figured I’d play the dainty damsel.” He winks at me, and then takes a sip.

  I can’t help but laugh. Once the laughter has passed, I say, “I mean I’d rather not talk about myself at all. You can have my name but nothing else.”

  “How blessed I am. And your name is?”

  I tell him.

  “Well how’d you do, Selena? I’m Dante.”

  “Dante?” I giggle. “Is that seriously your name?”

  “Last time I checked. Why?” He says “why” with the “h” emphasized like an old southern man, though he can’t be older than thirty.

  “Because Dante is an unusual name and I read Inferno not that long ago.”

  “I’m afraid I’m not familiar with it.”

  “It’s a book,” I say. “It’s a nice name. I like it.”

  He tips an imaginary hat. “You have my gratitude.”

  “Do you talk like that on purpose?” I ask.

  “Like what?”

  “Like what,” I mimic.

  “Are you making fun of the way I say the letter ‘h’, brave girl?”

  “I am. I am, and there’s nothing you can do about it!” I slap his hand. I feel wild with vodka and lust, and lust is the stronger of the two. This man has my thoughts going wild, and yet I still can’t get Mom out of my head. The two slam together, whirring. A plan formulates. It’s crazy. It makes no sense. But there’s an urge inside of me I can’t fight. Suddenly, poring over the baby books and Mom’s speech and meeting this man all seems connected.

  “I talk like this because my mother talked like this,” Dante says. “She had an accent so thick folks sometimes thought it was an old radio recording they were hearing at the bank and not a lady.” He smiles, looking at the table but not seeing it. He’s so handsome with that faraway look on his face. “And what about you—”

  I take his hand in mine. My heart hammers, my knee won’t stop bumping up and down under the table, and suddenly my tongue feels unwieldy. But I want this. For the first time in my life, I’m going to wildly take something I want.

  “I have a proposition for you,” I say.

  “What kind of proposition?” he asks, smoothing his thumb over my knuckles, his dark brown eyes full of meaning.

  “I want you to take me back to your place and use me however you want until you get me pregnant. I want you to fuck me for however long it takes until your baby’s growing inside of me. I don’t care if it takes weeks, but we’ll start tonight. Okay? How does that sound?”

  Dante tilts his head at me. “Is this serious?”

  “This is serious,” I say, voice firm.

  “Then I say I don’t know why we’re still sitting here. Come on. Let’s get going.”

  Chapter Four

  Selena

  We take a cab back to his place, which is forty minutes outside the city in a small, hidden place called Sun Town. I keep waiting for my inner voice to tell me that this is a mistake, that I’ll regret it in the morning. The truth is I’m not that drunk. A few vodka and Cokes don’t rob me of my senses. When I was with Clint he once made me drink nine beers and somehow I still managed to avoid his fists that night. I’m lucid, aware, and as I look at Dante’s muscular body, my own aches with desire.

  He turns to me and looks me up and down. “Just here,” he says to the cab driver. “Let me run into the apartment and I’ll get the fare.”

  “No, it’s okay.” I pay the fare and go into his apartment building.

  His apartment is spartan except for a photograph of him and a red-bearded man above the TV. “Who’s that?” I ask.

  “My brother,” he says. “Good man.”

  It has two bedrooms, one bedroom given over to cupboard boxes full of car or motorcycle parts, the other with a well-made bed and little else. A half-full glass of water rests on the bedside table. “I don’t spend much time here,” he says. “And I pay my cleaner well.”

  “Maybe a little too well,” I say. “It’s like a ghost apartment.”

  “Does that bother you?”

  I’m facing away from him. He comes and stands close behind me, pressing his groin into my ass. It feels so, so good. His cock goes hard. I feel it through his jeans. Rock-hard and big. He presses it firmly against my ass, grinding up and down, and I lean forward and grind with him. For a while we just stand there, not talking, pretending that the dirty thing we’re doing isn’t happening. And then he reaches down and slides his hand up between my legs, pressing his palm against my clit.

  “Fuck,” I whisper.

  He grabs my shoulder and turns me around, staring down at me, hand working outside my pants. “That’s the idea,” he says quietly. “But first I wanna see you come.” Quick as a wolf, he grabs me and lifts me up, throwing me over his shoulder. I squeal as he carries me to the bedroom. He drops me on the bed and goes to his knees. “If I don’t see your pussy soon, I think I’m gonna die.”

  “Like I said, use me.” I moan when he pulls my pants down, quickly, harshly, until my pants and my underwear lie twisted and discarded on the floor.

  He grabs my thighs and splits my legs, bringing his face close to my bare pussy. All I see is a muscular man in a hoodie and a head of red hair. I feel his breath on my pussy, hot on my clit, whispering inside of my hole.

  “You better come fast for me,” he says. “I need my dick in that fucking hole.”

  “I will,” I promise. “I—”

  But I can’t talk anymore. He presses his tongue against my clit, making it a hard point of heat and pleasure, and then licks up and down so fast I can’t think, let alone talk. He flicks his tongue as though he’s a snake, driving my clit wild, the heat in my pussy almost unbearable. I moan loudly and close my legs around his head. I won’t think about what I’m doing. I’ll just ride the pleasure. I shift my hips with the movement of his tongue. And then the pleasure begins to mount, fire-hot and full of pressure, pressing against the wall of my pussy as though it wants to break free. I bite down, and then the pleasure explodes.

  I usually only squirt when I’m pleasuring myself, but as Dante works me with his tongue I can’t help it. It’s too hot, too intimate, too wild and dangerous. The orgasm releases in one massive rush, pouring out of me and onto his tongue. That he grabs my thighs harder and licks me faster just makes me all the hornier; he doesn’t care how dirty we get; he wants to get even dirtier. He licks me until the orgasm fades and then stands up, pulling his clothes off. I help him, leaning forward and pulling his waistband down around his balls.

  Oh, my fucking god. Oh. My. Fucking. God.

  His cock springs up. It’s ten inches, maybe more, and thick. A vein runs down one side. It looks like a strong cock, the sort of cock which makes me frightened for a second. But then the fear passes and excitement takes its place. The idea of that cock filling me …completely filling me …

  “Suck it,” he says, voice growly with lust now. I can tell he’s struggling to control himself.

  I look up at him. “Don’t hold back,” I say. “Use me, Dante.”

  “You better be sure,” he says.

  “I am,” I tell him. “I really am.”

  “Then I’m gonna fuck your perfect little mouth.”

  Before we can say anything else he grabs the back of my head and forces his cock into my mouth. I open it as wide as it’ll go, but still he chokes me. It’s just too big. I hurt my jaw stretching my mouth open. And then he goes even deeper, pushing all the way to the back of my throat. I gasp for air. But it makes me horny. I like his cock choking me. I like being utterly at his mercy. I like the way spit and pre-come dribbles out as he pulls away. He fucks my face for several minutes, the room a chorus of his growling and my choking and gasping and spitting.

  Once it’s over and my eyes are red and my cheeks flushed, he stares down at me with trembling cheeks. “I need to see that fucking ass,” he says. “That round, perfect fuckin’ ass. I need to slap it as I drive into you. Turn the fuck over.”

  I do as he says. I want him to drive into me from behind as well. I want it so badly, I behave as I have never before behaved. I’m usually shy, but the combination of everything that has happened—Mom, the baby books, and now this hunky stranger—makes me new. I stick my ass up and moan for him: “Fuck me hard. Pound into me fucking deep and hard. I want your big fucking cock inside of me. Please, oh, please.”

  “You’re so fuckin’ sexy,” he growls, moving his hands over my ass cheeks. “I want to tie your fucking hands to the bedpost.”

  “Do it!” I cry, the idea making my clit burn. “Tie me, Dante!”

  “Wait.” He pauses. “Are you serious?”

  I twist my neck around so that I can face him. “I am,” I say. “I want you to.”

  He looks at me to make sure I’m serious and then says, “We’ll need a safe word.”

  “How about inferno?” I offer.

  “Inferno works. Wait here.” Before he leaves, he spanks me on the ass cheek so hard he leaves a red handprint.

  I lie there, panting and moving my hand over my sore red ass, as he goes into the other bedroom to get the rope. I suppose this is the moment where I could have doubts and decide to leave. This is the moment where all this might seem too much for me and I’ll run and later tell myself I was mad with grief, longing, desire, whatever. But I don’t feel the urge to leave. All I feel is the urge for this muscular, handsome man to tie me up and fuck me like I’ve never been fucked.

  He ties the rope around my wrists and then to the corners of the bed. It is camping-style rope, elasticated, and holds me tight.

  When I’m spread-eagled, he climbs onto the bed behind me. “How do you feel?” he asks.

  “Powerless,” I whisper, pussy twinging at the word. “I feel like you could do anything you want to me. You could take me for as long as you want and there’s nothing I can do. And I want it. I want it so fucking badly.”

  He leans down, bringing his lips close to my cheek. His giant cock rests against my ass, ready to strike at any moment. “Beg me,” he says. “If you want it that badly, beg me like you’re my own personal whore.”

  I let out a long, shaky sigh. This is new territory for me. But I want to try it, I discover once I look inside myself. I don’t want to be vanilla anymore. And I want that baby. The urge of making a baby drives me just as strongly as the primal urge alone. It’s an intoxicating concoction.

  “I’m your fucking whore, Dante,” I moan. “I’m your horny little slut and I want your cock deep inside of me. I want to feel your hard cock deep in my cunt. I want to feel it so deep it hurts. I want you to fucking pound me and use me. Use me, baby. Use me.”

  His breathing is fast now, the breathing of a man whose blood is up and can’t stop. “I need that fucking pussy.”

  He slides his cock inside of me. At first I feel like my pussy is going to tear apart. He’s so big, by far the biggest cock I’ve ever felt inside of me. It’s an experience I’ve never had. I panic, but then my pussy opens up for him, warmth and a buzzing sensation rushing to my hole. I loosen even more and then the pain is replaced with intense pleasure. His cock is so big, it bulges against the walls of my pussy, every inch of me completely filled, every inch of his cock sending heat all around my body. I feel lightheaded. I curl my toes. Then he goes even deeper and hits my sweet spot, his cock pressing hard against it.

  “You’re going to take it like a good whore,” he growls.

  “I’m going to—”

  I can’t talk anymore. He rams into me so hard that the bed squeaks. He does it again, again, harder and harder until all I can do is shift with what little movement the ropes allow me. I push my ass back as he drives into my pussy. It’s that moment we meet—when his cock slams into me and his abs into my ass cheeks—that pushes us on. We writhe and thrust for that moment, meeting and coming apart to do it all over again. It’s that moment which builds the pressure inside of me, the unstoppable pleasure of an incoming orgasm.

  I close my eyes and let him take me, losing myself in pleasure unlike anything I have ever felt. I think of inferno, but not the safe word. I’ll never say the safe word. I think of an actual inferno and how I’m at the center of it, whirring in a world of heat as my pussy burns hottest of all. The friction of his cock against my pussy is like the friction of fire-making equipment, rubbing together until—a spark—and a spark comes. But not one. Hundreds, thousands, millions of sparks tsking over and over inside of me.

  “I’m going to come—come—come—”

  I’m not sure if I moan aloud or in my head or into the mattress. I’m not sure if my cries of pleasure can be heard for miles around or only under my breath. All I’m sure of is that the orgasm hits me with the force of a speeding train.

  I’m thrown about, twisting in the ropes, my wrists and ankles aching where they dig into me. The orgasm starts at the tip of his cock and then empties out of my pussy, wave after wave of intense pleasure evacuating me. I tremble like a madwoman, fists clenched and toes curled, squirming and giving myself over to the euphoria. I squirm like this for a few seconds or several minutes. I’m not sure. Time bends, and I just ride the pleasure. And then I realize that Dante has almost finished as well. I buck like crazy, grinding up and down his cock, hungry for us to finish at the same time.