Andrew left us alone all night. No guard to watch over us. No one to stop us. I could have left. I probably should have left.

But something held me back.

I want to tell myself I was too afraid to walk out the door because of Ivan. He was released yesterday and I know he’s out there, somewhere. Waiting.

But it wasn’t only Ivan. Something else is holding me here. Something that sits heavy in my chest. Something that continues to grow, like a cancer.

Instead of leaving or plotting an escape, I stayed up most of the night wondering where Andrew was.

What was he doing? Was he with Lucifer? Was he killing people?

Or was he with another woman?

I shouldn’t care, I shouldn’t, but I do. The mere thought of him with someone else makes me so angry I could cry.

I truly have no control of this situation. He can do whatever he wants, whoever he wants.

It’s not like we’re in a healthy relationship here.

I hated him for not telling me where he was going, or what he was doing. I hated him for making me feel this way. For making feel anything in the first place. It’s fucking insane.

Insane.

But as soon as he walked in the door, soaked to the bone and smelling faintly of blood, I didn’t want to know where he was or what he was doing.

And the sick, fucked-up part of me was glad he was finally home.

I’m in over my head here, and the water is only getting deeper.

Beside me, Abigail squirms in her chair, glancing towards the TV. Knowing she has French toast coming her way she’s no longer interested in the cereal.

“Go watch some TV,” I smile at her. “You’re excused from the table.”

She flashes me a bright smile and darts out of her chair.

I stand up and clean up the bowls of cereal. I take my time dumping them out and washing them by hand, waiting for Andrew to come back downstairs.

When he doesn’t, I decide to go up and check on him.

The smell of minty soap and steamy water greets me as I push open the bedroom door.

“Andrew?” I call out. “Are you okay?”

When he doesn’t answer, I decide I better check. Who knows what kind of shit he got up to last night.

Maybe he smelled like blood because he was bleeding?

I step inside the bedroom and immediately have to step over a big black garbage bag left on the floor. That’s odd, I think.

I nudge the bag open and the coppery smell of blood wafts out. I quickly nudge the bag closed again, deciding I really don’t want to know what’s in there.

“Andrew?” I call out again, walking up to the bathroom door.

Still no answer.

Fearing that he’s hurt, I push the door open.

“Andrew?” I call out, trying to peer through the thick cloud of steam.

Still, he doesn’t answer me.

I step inside the bathroom and walk up to the shower door. Through the foggy glass I can make out his large silhouette. It looks like he’s still standing. Maybe he just didn’t hear me?

“Andr—”

The shower door opens and I’m yanked inside.

I start to squeal as the water hits me but a hand immediately covers my mouth.

“Shush,” he murmurs. “You don’t want to alarm Abigail.”

He pushes me up against the shower wall and stares down into my eyes.

I blink the water from my lashes and peer up at him.

Slowly, he begins to pull his hand away.

“What are you doing?” I whisper up at him. “My clothes are completely soaked now.”

He looks down, his dark gaze warming as it roams over me slowly, almost lazily. His lips begin to curve into a smile. “You’re right, they’re soaked.”

He grabs the bottom of my shirt and tugs it up.

“Wait…” I hiss but he doesn’t stop. Pulling the shirt over my head, he tosses it carelessly to the side where it lands with a wet plop.

“Why did you do that?” I frown.

His mouth comes down on my mouth. His hands pull down my bra straps.

I reach up, trying to stop him but his mouth keeps slanting over my mouth, driving me to distraction.

His kiss deepens, his lips pulling hungrily from my lips as my bra falls away. One warm, slick hand comes down on my right breast, squeezing it, while the other shoves down my pajama pants.

“Andrew,” I moan into his mouth. “We shouldn’t…”

“Shush,” he growls and kisses me harder to keep me quiet.

His knee nudges at my knee and then he reaches down, pulling my leg up, hooking it on his hip.

Groaning into my mouth, he pushes forward, filling me up with his hard cock.

I throw my head back. He’s so deep and I’m so full, I feel like he just pinned me to the damn wall.

He pulls out slowly and immediately thrusts forward.

A little sound escapes my lips.

His hand slaps over my mouth.

“Be quiet,” he hisses.

I try, I really do, but it’s so hard to be quiet as he begins to fuck me like the end of the world is coming.

His wet body slams into my body like he’s trying to slam me through the tile. And he drives himself so hard, so deep, the power behind his thrusts forces me up on my toes.

I claw at his back, at his sides, and at his shoulders, desperately trying to find something to hold on to, but he’s too slick and too wet for me to find purchase.

My hands just end up sliding all over him.

“Come for me,” he growls into my ear, and to my horror I feel my body begin to respond to his command.

My mind protests the submission but my core pulses and the pressure inside me expands.

“Come for me, Amy,” he growls again, and then his teeth latch onto my neck.

He drives into me harder and deeper. Smashing my ass against the wall.

“Andrew,” I groan behind his hand and his grip tightens.

His cock drives extra deep and he smashes my clit.

I jerk against him, crying out his name again.

Teeth releasing my neck, he hisses, “I said be quiet.”

His hand slides up, covering my nose and cutting off my air.

I can’t breathe. Desperately, I try to pull in oxygen but I’m being smothered by the palm of his hand.

I try to fight him, I try to shove him off but he’s too strong, too determined.

His body slams into my body again and again.

Spots flash in front of my eyes.

I’m dying.

Suffocating.

But amazingly my orgasm is still building.

“I said come,” he grunts into my ear and I explode.

My nose burns and my lungs ache, but the orgasm that rocks through my body is extra strong. Colors overtake the spots flashing in front of my eyes, and warm, wet waves roll through my core.

I think the lack of oxygen may be enhancing my release.

The pleasure feels twice as strong as usual and there’s this strange rush flooding through my nerves.

“Yes,” he grunts quietly as I clamp down on him. “That’s a good girl.”

I feel him swell up, growing inside me, then he’s grinding himself slow and deep as he fills me up with his warmth.

Just when I’m about to pass out, he removes his hand and I gasp in a mouthful of much needed air.

He holds me tightly as I twitch and spasm on top of his cock. Catching my breath and still coming at the same time.

As soon as the last tremor fades and I get some of my strength back, I push him away.

Our eyes meet.

Mine are confused and hazy.

His are warm and tender.

“You almost killed me,” I hiss.

He smirks and tucks an errant strand of my hair behind my ear. “If I wanted to kill you—” he starts but he’s cut off as Abigail calls out.

“Mommy? Andrew?”

It sounds like she’s in the bedroom.

“Just a minute, honey!” I call out in a panic. “Mommy’s in the bathroom!”

“Oh, okay!” she responds cheerfully with some relief.

I wonder how long she’s been wondering about me.

“I might be awhile… Wait for me downstairs.”

“Oh… Okay!” she calls back less enthusiastically.

I hold my breath, listening closely to her walk out of the bedroom. A moment later we can hear her skipping down the stairs.

“Good grief,” I groan and slump against the wall. “That was too close.”

“It was,” Andrew agrees, frowning thoughtfully. “I think it’s time she went back to school.”