Elena was twenty-eight years old, and the underground parking garage beneath her office building was empty at eleven forty at night. Her heels clicked against the concrete as she walked to her car, the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead, her purse strap digging into her shoulder. She was tired. She wanted her bed. She was thinking about nothing at all except the hot shower waiting at home.

Damion was thirty-two, and he was already there.

He stood in the dark seam between two parked SUVs, dressed in black from the boots up, a black ski mask pulled down over his face, black gloves on his hands. He had been waiting twenty minutes. He watched her walk toward him, watched her small frame move under the thin blouse and skirt she wore, watched the way her hips swayed in the heels, and his cock thickened in his jeans.

She didn’t see him until he moved.

The hand clamped over her mouth from behind with shocking speed, an arm like an iron bar locking around her waist, hauling her back against a chest that felt like stone. She tried to scream and the sound died against the leather of his glove, muffled and useless.

— Don’t scream, — he growled in her ear, his voice low and flat and mean. — Scream and I’ll break your jaw.

She fought. Panic flooded her veins like ice water and she fought — she kicked backward, her heel scraping down his shin, she twisted, she clawed at the gloved hand over her mouth with her nails, she threw her weight forward, trying to break his hold. He was too strong. He dragged her easily between the two SUVs, her shoes scuffing the concrete, her muffled screams going nowhere in the empty garage.

He slammed her back against the cold metal side of the SUV. The impact knocked the breath out of her. His hand left her mouth just long enough to tangle in her hair, yanking her head back, and his other hand went to her throat, pressing in just enough to make her eyes go wide with terror.

— You’re going to be quiet, — he said, his face inches from hers, his eyes cold through the mask’s holes. — You’re going to do what I tell you. If you fight me, I’ll hurt you worse. Understand?

She nodded frantically, tears already starting in her eyes.

— Please, — she whispered. — Please don’t —

— Shut up, — he said, and his hand tightened on her throat until she choked.

He spun her around and bent her over the hood of the SUV, her cheek slamming against the cold metal. She felt his weight press down on her back, pinning her, and she thrashed, her legs kicking, but he wedged his knee between her thighs and forced them apart. His hands went to her blouse and ripped it open. Buttons scattered across the hood and pinged onto the concrete. Her bra was black lace, and he stared down at her tits for a second, his breathing going rough.

— Nice, — he said, and tore the bra down, ripping the straps, freeing her breasts.

His gloved hand closed over her breast and squeezed hard, cruelly, and she cried out, the pain sharp and shocking. He kneaded her tits roughly, pinching her nipples through the leather until she was whimpering, her body betraying her — her nipples hardening under his brutal touch, her pussy flooding hot and wet between her legs even as terror screamed through her brain.

— Please, stop, — she sobbed. — Please don’t do this —

— I said shut up, — he growled, and yanked her skirt up around her waist.

She felt the cold garage air on her thighs, and then his hands on her panties, and the sound of them tearing. Cold air hit her bare pussy, and then his bare hand — he had stripped one glove off with his teeth — landing hard on her ass cheek.

— You fight like a little wildcat, — he said, spanking her again, harder. — I like that. Makes it better when I break you.

— Let me go! — she screamed, and he clamped his hand back over her mouth, grinding her cheek into the hood.

— No, — he said simply.

He spread her legs wider with his boot and shoved two thick fingers into her pussy, rough and sudden, driving them deep without any warning. She screamed against his hand, arching, and he curled his fingers inside her, stroking hard, finding the spot that made her body jerk.

— Wet, — he said, and there was dark amusement in his voice. — You’re fucking soaked. Your body wants this even if your mouth says no.

— No! — she cried, twisting. — No, stop, please —

He pulled his fingers out of her dripping pussy and she heard his zipper. Then his cock was there — thick and huge and rock hard, the head dark purple and leaking — pressing against her entrance. She was so wet there was no resistance, and he drove into her in one savage thrust, burying himself to the hilt in her tight pussy.

She screamed into his hand. He was so big, stretching her, splitting her open, filling her completely, and he started fucking her hard immediately, his hips slamming against her ass, his heavy cock driving in and out of her pussy with brutal, punishing force.

— Take it, — he grunted. — Take my cock, bitch. Take all of it.

She fought him even as her traitorous body responded, her pussy clenching around his thick shaft, her moans breaking through her terror. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her head back, and his other hand snaked around her hip to find her clit, rubbing it hard and fast with rough fingers.

— Come for me, — he ordered. — I want to feel you come on my cock while you beg me to stop.

— No — no — I can’t — she cried, but her body was already doing it, the orgasm tearing through her against her will, her pussy convulsing around his thick cock, her scream echoing through the empty garage.

He didn’t slow down. He fucked her straight through it, his cock hammering her sensitized pussy, his fingers still grinding her clit, driving her toward a second one with merciless rhythm.

— Please — please stop — she sobbed.

— No, — he said, and pounded her harder.

He pulled out of her suddenly, his cock leaving her with a wet sound, and spun her around. She slid down the side of the SUV to her knees on the cold concrete, her torn clothes hanging off her in rags. His cock stood in front of her face, huge and glistening with her wetness, throbbing, the head dark and leaking pre-cum.

— Open your mouth, — he said.

She shook her head, tears streaming down her face, and he grabbed her jaw with brutal strength, forcing it open, and shoved his cock deep into her throat. She gagged violently, her eyes watering, and he held her head still with both hands and fucked her mouth, his thick cock sliding in and out of her throat, her saliva dripping down her chin onto the concrete.

— Suck it, — he growled. — Suck my cock like your life depends on it. Because it does.

She sucked him desperately, her tongue working his shaft, her throat massaging his head on every deep thrust, tears streaming down her face. He was so big her jaw ached, her throat burned, and she could feel him throbbing in her mouth, swelling thicker, and she knew he was getting close.

— That’s it, — he groaned. — Take it all. Swallow around it.

Her pussy was throbbing, empty and aching, dripping onto the concrete between her knees. She hated herself for it, hated the heat building in her belly, but her body didn’t care about hate — it only knew the brutal rhythm of his cock in her throat and the way her clit pulsed with every thrust.

He pulled out of her mouth with a wet pop, dragging her to her feet by her hair. She cried out, stumbling, and he bent her over the hood of the SUV again, spread her legs wide with his hands, and drove his cock back into her pussy, deeper than before, bottoming out so hard she screamed.

His hand came down on her ass, hard, over and over, the sharp cracks echoing off the concrete walls, while he pounded into her.

— I’m going to fill you up, — he snarled. — I’m going to pump you so full of my cum you’ll be dripping for days.

— No — please — no — she sobbed, and her pussy clenched around him, another orgasm building, unstoppable, ripping through her.

— Come, — he commanded. — Come on my cock. Now.

She shattered, her whole body convulsing, her pussy gripping his cock in violent waves, and he roared behind his mask and drove deep, his cock pulsing inside her, shooting thick hot ropes of cum deep into her pussy, filling her completely, flooding her.

She collapsed over the hood, shaking, crying, his cum leaking out of her onto the cold metal and dripping to the concrete. He pulled out slowly, tucked himself away, zipped up.

— If you tell anyone, — he said, his voice low and ugly, — I’ll find you. And next time I won’t be this gentle.

Then he was gone, melting back into the shadows between the cars, and she was alone in the buzzing fluorescent light, her clothes in rags, her body shaking, his cum running down her thighs.

She sat in her car for ten minutes before she could make her hands stop shaking enough to turn the key. She drove home with the ruined blouse clutched closed over her bare chest, her skirt twisted, her pussy throbbing and leaking his cum into the seat with every mile. Her mind was blank white noise. Her body hummed with a shameful, undeniable aftershock every time she shifted in the seat and felt the soreness between her legs.

She told no one. She showered for an hour, scrubbing until her skin was red, but she could still feel him — the stretch of him, the weight of him, the brutal grip of his hands. She stood under the scalding water and hated her body for the way it had responded, for the orgasms that had torn through her while she screamed for him to stop.

Two nights later, he was waiting in the garage again.

She saw the shape detach from the shadows and her blood turned to ice. She turned to run and he caught her in three strides, his hand clamping over her mouth, his arm banding around her waist, dragging her back between the cars.

— Miss me? — he breathed in her ear. — I’ve been thinking about your tight little pussy all week.

— No — no, please — she whimpered against his hand, fighting, kicking, but he was ready for it this time, and he slammed her face-down against the trunk of a sedan, knocking the wind out of her.

— You tell anyone? — he growled, yanking her head back by the hair.

She shook her head frantically, tears coming.

— Good girl, — he said, and the praise in that ugly voice made her stomach turn. — Then you learned your lesson. Now spread your legs.

She didn’t move, frozen with terror, and he kicked her feet apart and tore at her clothes. She had worn jeans this time, thinking they would protect her, and he laughed — actually laughed — as he unzipped them and hauled them down over her hips along with her panties, leaving her bent over the trunk with her bare ass in the cold air.

— Jeans, — he said, amused. — Like that was going to stop me.

His hand cracked down on her bare ass, hard, and she yelped. He spanked her again and again, his palm striking her cheeks until they were burning red and she was sobbing, her pussy flooding despite everything, the wet heat of her arousal shameful and undeniable.

— Still wet for me, — he said, his fingers sliding through her folds from behind. — Still fucking dripping. Your body knows who owns it.

— Nobody owns me — she gasped, and he shoved two fingers deep into her pussy, making her cry out.

— I do, — he said simply. — Until I get bored of you, I own this pussy.

He pulled his fingers out and she heard his belt, his zipper. His cock pressed against her entrance and he pushed in slow this time, inch by inch, stretching her open, letting her feel every thick inch of him sliding into her pussy. She moaned despite herself, her walls gripping him, pulsing around his shaft.

— Feel that? — he said, his voice rough. — Feel me filling you up? That’s mine now. This pussy is mine.

He started fucking her with long, deep strokes, his hips grinding against her ass, his cock dragging along her walls on every thrust. His hands gripped her hips hard enough to leave bruises, holding her exactly where he wanted her, and she took it, her breasts bouncing against the cold trunk, her moans turning ragged.

— Please, — she whispered. — Please, it hurts —

— Good, — he said, and slammed into her harder.

He reached around and found her clit, pinching it between his fingers, rolling it roughly, and her body betrayed her again — the orgasm building fast and unstoppable, her pussy clenching around his pounding cock.

— No — no, not again — she cried, but it was already happening, her walls spasming around him, her come gushing out around his shaft, her scream echoing in the empty garage.

— That’s it, — he groaned. — Come on my cock, you little slut. You love it. Admit it.

— I don’t — I don’t — she sobbed, even as her pussy milked him.

He pulled out and flipped her around, and she was on her back on the trunk now, her legs dangling, and he spread her thighs wide and drove back into her, his cock spearing into her pussy, his body covering hers. He bit her neck, hard, sucking a mark into her skin, and she cried out, her nails raking down his back through the black shirt.

— Fight me, — he panted. — Fight me, it makes me harder.

She did — she clawed at him, she bucked, she tried to push him off, and he just laughed into her neck and fucked her harder, his cock pounding her pussy, the trunk rocking under them. His thumb found her clit again, grinding it mercilessly, and she came again, violently, her pussy convulsing around him, her scream raw.

— I’m going to come in your mouth this time, — he said, pulling out of her dripping pussy. — On your knees.

He dragged her off the trunk and shoved her to the concrete. She landed hard on her knees, and his cock was in her face, huge and wet with her juices, throbbing. He grabbed the back of her head and pushed in, filling her mouth, hitting the back of her throat.

She gagged and choked, tears streaming, and he held her there, his cock pulsing in her throat, then started thrusting — face-fucking her, hard and deep, her head bobbing with every stroke, spit and tears running down her face.

— Swallow it, — he growled. — Every drop.

She felt his cock swell, felt the first hot spurt hit the back of her throat, and she swallowed reflexively, and again, thick hot ropes of cum flooding her mouth and throat, and she swallowed and swallowed, her throat working, until he pulled out and the last spurts landed on her lips and chin, dripping down.

He smeared it across her mouth with his thumb.

— Lick it off, — he ordered.

She did, tasting him, hating him, her tongue cleaning her lips while she cried.

— Good, — he said. — Same time next week. Don’t be late.

He walked away into the dark, and she stayed on her knees on the cold concrete, shaking, his taste in her mouth, her pussy throbbing and empty and somehow still aching for more.

She came back the next week. She told herself she came back because she was afraid of what he would do if she didn’t. She told herself a lot of things. But when she walked into that garage and saw him step out of the shadows, her pussy clenched with a hot rush of wet that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the brutal, shameful truth: her body wanted the stranger’s cock, wanted to be taken, wanted to be overpowered and used and filled.

This time he didn’t bother with words. He grabbed her, threw her against the nearest car, and took her standing up, her legs wrapped around his waist, his cock driving into her pussy with savage force. She screamed and fought and came twice before he even had his mouth on her.

He bent her over the hood and ate her pussy from behind, his tongue spearing into her dripping hole, his lips sucking her clit, his fingers pumping into her, and she came on his face, sobbing, her hands clawing at the metal.

— Please — please fuck me — she begged, and hated herself for begging.

— That’s more like it, — he said, and slammed his cock into her from behind, fucking her hard and fast, his hand fisted in her hair, his other hand reaching under to rub her clit.

She came again, her pussy convulsing around him, and he roared and came deep inside her, his cock pulsing, flooding her pussy with thick hot cum.

He pulled her up and turned her around and kissed her — brutal, forced, his tongue shoving into her mouth — and she bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, and he groaned and bit her back, and they stood there in the empty garage, breathing hard, blood and cum and sweat between them.

— You’re mine, — he said against her mouth. — Say it.

— I’m yours, — she whispered, and the words tasted like surrender.

— Louder.

— I’m yours! — she cried, and he smiled behind the mask, and took her again, right there against the car, her legs around his waist, his cock pounding into her already-full pussy, his cum and hers mixing and leaking down her thighs.

When he finally left her, she lay across the back seat of her car, wrecked and shaking and full of him, and she stared up at the garage ceiling and admitted the truth to the buzzing fluorescent lights: she would be back. She would always come back. The stranger owned her now, body and soul, and she had never felt more alive.

A week later, the mask came off.

He had her bent over the hood, his cock buried deep in her pussy, his hand on the back of her neck, and she was moaning, lost in it, when he reached up with his free hand and pulled the ski mask off.

She twisted to look — and froze.

— Damion, — she breathed.

Her husband. Thirty-two years old. The man she slept next to every night. Standing behind her in the parking garage with his cock buried in her pussy, his eyes dark and hungry and completely unrecognizable.

— Surprised? — he said, and drove into her harder, making her cry out.

— You — you were — all this time —

— All this time, — he said, and grabbed her hair, yanking her head back. — Did you really think some stranger just happened to find you? I’ve been watching you for weeks. Planning this. You never knew. You never suspected a thing.

— Damion, please —

— No, — he said, and fucked her harder, his cock pounding her pussy. — You don’t get to say my name like that. In here, I’m the stranger. I’m the man who takes what he wants. And what I want is you. Always you.

She came with his name on her lips, her pussy clenching around his cock, and he came right after, flooding her, his groan raw and real.

He pulled out slowly, and she turned to face him, shaking, tears on her cheeks.

— Why? — she whispered. — Why didn’t you tell me?

— Because you needed to be afraid, — he said simply. — And I needed you to be mine like this. Completely. No pretending. Just taken.

He pulled the mask back on.

— Same time next week, — said the stranger, and walked away into the dark.

Elena drove home in silence, her body humming, her mind reeling. Her husband. It had been her husband all along — the man who made her coffee, who held her hand, who slept beside her — taking her in the garage like an animal, week after week, and she had never known.

She should have been angry. She should have been furious.

Instead, her pussy throbbed with heat, and she pressed her thighs together in the driver’s seat, and she smiled in the dark.

Next week, she would be there. She would always be there. His, completely, in the dark where no one could see — taken, used, filled, and utterly, shamefully alive.