At first, I completely understand why Noah needs me to stay inside.

It’s obvious to me. The cops are looking for a woman that matches my description, and so it’s best if I stay hidden until they’re not actively searching for me anymore. Anybody can see that it’s the best course of action.

And it’s not like I’m some prisoner on his property. I have free reign of everything, from his gorgeous house to the grounds all around his buildings. I can ride bikes, dirt bikes, go hiking, play videogames, watch movies, whatever I want. Everything he owns is completely at my disposal.

But as a few days pass, I can’t help but feel like I’m still in a prison. It’s a nice prison, one that most people would be pretty happy with, but it’s still a prison. My choices are there, but they’re greatly restricted. I can’t just do whatever I want whenever I want because in the end I can’t leave the confines of his land.

I feel silly, chafing at these relatively minor constraints, but I can’t help it. All my life I’ve lived with constraints, and now for the first time I feel like I’m finally getting close to living the way that I really want to. I know it isn’t his fault, it’s nobody’s fault, but it still stinks.

After I cut my hair that first night, he bought some hair dye. In the end, I went from a rich, deep brown to a lighter shade of brown with subtle blonde highlights. I actually did a decent job of dying my hair, and in the end I could barely recognize myself.

At first it was weird, having totally different hair. But soon I began to like it. I felt like a totally different person, and that was appropriate.

I am a different person. It’s obvious. I killed a man and now I live with my father’s murderer. I’m learning to stalk people, to hurt them, to hunt them and kill them. I’m learning to identify a bad person so that I don’t accidentally hurt someone that doesn’t deserve it.

Noah still wants to teach me, and I still want to learn. Our practice sessions last all morning and then he leaves me to go research the whorehouse. He doesn’t tell me much about it when he gets home, just that he has Ryan and the rest of that group watching it all day and night. He hasn’t been able to find much solid information yet, or at least that’s what he says.

I don’t know if I trust him. He’s still gorgeous, sexual, and intense, and every time we’re together I’m on the tip of my toes waiting for whatever we’re doing to turn into something much more incredible. But as the days pass, we don’t go much beyond kissing, which confuses me.

I don’t know if he’s angry with me or what. He says he isn’t, but there’s no telling with Noah. There are so many layers to him, stories within stories and lies woven within lies that I can’t tell where the real version of him starts and all the fakes end. I want to unravel him so badly, but he keeps me at a distance and backs away as soon as I get close to tugging a thread.

But I get a glimpse of the real him one night about five days after I was confined to his property.

It’s around ten at night and he’s still not home. I’m sitting in his living room, restless and bored, watching some reruns on television. I don’t feel like doing this for what feels like the hundredth time, and so I decide to go for a walk.

It’s dark, so I put on some warmer gear and grab a flashlight. I know his property pretty well, and there’s a stream that runs through the woods to the south of the house. It’s far from the road and nowhere near his closest neighbor, so I know it’s a safe spot. I decide to take a walk out there and explore.

I like his property at night. It’s calm and the wind blows through the tall grass with a gentle ruffle. I move down across the field and toward the trees, letting my mind wander.

He should have been back a half hour ago, but he’s been staying out later and later lately. He says that he’s not finding much interesting information, but I suspect he’s lying to me. Or at least I think he’s holding things back. I’m not sure why, but my guess would be that he doesn’t want me pushing to get involved.

I understand that. This is a big deal to him. Noah seems very motivated to destroy pedophiles and he believes they’re the scum of the earth. I agree with him, but it’s an entirely new level of hatred with Noah. Taking down a whorehouse that carries young girls is a big deal for him, and he can’t risk screwing it up.

Letting me in on that would be a liability. We both know it, and although I’m getting pretty good at his training, I know I have a long way to go. He told me once that he spent years preparing for his first kill, and another year before his second. He has so much practice that it’s hard for me to imagine. Just a few days of practice isn’t going to do much.

I reach the tree line and step into the forest area. It gets darker as the stars are blotted out by the leaves and so I turn on my flashlight. Even just a week or two ago, this would have scared me. I grew up in the city and never walked through the woods, let alone at night. But even by myself, I don’t feel any fear.

It’s like I’ve conquered something inside of me. The moment I plunged that knife into Mark Sheer’s chest, I also killed whatever fear of the night I had left inside of me.

I’m the night now. I’m the killer.

I breathe deeply, smiling, as I find my way to the stream. I hear it before I see it, and soon I’m standing on its bank. I can hear animals crawling in the brush around me, but I just ignore them as I find rocks and skip them along the surface.

After maybe five minutes of skipping stones absently, I suddenly hear something. I pause, straining to listen, and the sound of a dirt bike comes into clear focus. It’s not far away and coming closer, probably coming from the direction of the house.

I walk back toward it, shining my flashlight. I can see the bike in the distance, and so I flash my light a few times. The bike turns and comes toward me, picking up speed.

Noah skids to a stop in front of me and drops the bike on the ground as he jumps off it. He strides over to me and grabs me by the shoulders, scaring the hell out of me.

“Are you okay?” he asks, breathless.

“I’m fine, what’s happening?”

He stares at me for a second then pulls me against him, hugging me tight. “I came back to the house and you were gone.”

“I went for a walk.”

“It’s late. I . . . I didn’t know you went for walks at night.”

“I’m sorry I worried you. I don’t normally.”

“Don’t do that again.” He moves me away, staring me in the eyes. “Don’t scare me like that.”

“I’m allowed to go for a walk whenever I want, aren’t I?”

“What if someone saw you?”

“There’s nobody around for miles.”

He grunts, shaking his head. “This isn’t a game, Amelia.”

“I know that.” I pull away from him and turn my back to him. Anger pulses through me. “I’m not your prisoner anymore.”

“I know,” he says, his tone softening. “But you agreed that you’d stay on my property.”

“I did. I didn’t leave it.”

He sighs, and steps up behind me. He grabs my hips and pulls me against him from behind. “Don’t make this harder for us.”

“I’m not making anything hard.” I whirl around and face him. “You’re being controlling.”

“I’m trying to look out for your best interest.”

“Are you?” I push him, fists balled. “Or are you trying to lock me up again?”

Suddenly, he grabs my wrists and pulls me against him. He kisses me hard, crushing my mouth with his. I struggle for a second then melt into his kiss, moaning into his mouth. He groans and tears my shirt off.

It happens so fast. One second I’m so angry with him, so incredibly angry, and the next he’s teasing my nipples with his teeth and his tongue. He’s rough and firm with me, like he’s punishing me. But it feels good, so damn good, and I don’t want to fight him off.

He licks my nipple and presses a hand down the front of my jeans. He roughly finds my clit and teases it for a second as he kisses my neck. I wrap my arms around him as he presses two fingers deep inside of me, sliding his fingers out and pumping them back inside.

I moan as he stifles my mouth with another kiss. I reach down and fumble with his belt, desperate to feel his cock.

But he pushes me away. “No,” he says. “You’re doing what I say.”

“Noah,” I gasp.

“You want to be free? You’re a fucking liar. You want me to tie you up, hold you down, and fuck you. You want me to bind you and fill your tight cunt with my fat cock. You’re a filthy fucking slut for me, Amelia, and I’m tired of you pretending like you want to get away.”

I stare at him, shocked, but I don’t fight as he takes my hair and shoves his hand back down my jeans. He finds my pussy and shoves his finger deep inside of me, holding onto my hair. I gasp and moan as he fucks me with his fingers.

I can’t believe he talked to me like that. He knows how I feel, but now he’s treating me like his little toy, free to do whatever he wants with me.

And he’s right. He’s absolutely right. I like it, I love it, I want it. I need him to keep pushing me, pressing me further and further, making me wetter and wetter. I want him to hear my moans, to slap my ass, choke me, pull my hair, make me his dirty girl. I want him to use me, make me filthy. God, it’s so incredible when he touches my body, firm and rough.

He practically drags me back toward the tree line then pins me up against a large oak. He grabs my wrists and pins them up above my head with one hand as he tugs my jeans down over my hips with the other.

“That’s right, you filthy girl,” he whispers. “Don’t struggle. We both know what you want.”

“Noah,” I groan. “You asshole. Fuck you.”

He grins. “Good. Go ahead. Talk with that filthy fucking mouth. You’ll have it full of cock soon enough.”

“Asshole,” I moan as he drops to his knees. He tugs my pants down then shoves his mouth between my legs and starts licking my pussy, lapping it up. I drop my hands down from the tree and grab hard onto his hair.

He grunts but keeps going, his hands firm on my ass as his tongue works my clit and pussy. He shoves it inside of me, rolling and rolling and licking before going back to sucking my clit.

Pleasure rocks through me, pleasure and need. He’s being rough and fast, not trying to take his time, not trying at all. He’s just taking me, making me his, and I like it. I love that there’s always a dark edge to him, always a dirty and rough undertone to everything he does with me.

After a few minutes, pleasure mounting and building, he pulls back. I move to kiss him but he pins me back on the tree. He smirks as he slowly unbuckles his belt then drops his pants and underwear, showing off his thick, hard cock.

“Go ahead,” he says. “Suck that cock, Amelia. I want to see you suck it. You think you deserve to be free? Get on your knees and prove it.”

I can’t help myself. I do exactly as he commands.

I take his thick cock in my mouth as far as I can before sliding up and down along his shaft. I take him in both hands as I suck his tip, working him fast. I’m like a starving woman possessed, not caring if I’m being sloppy. I let my spit slide down his shaft as I suck him fast and hard, working him, savoring his taste, loving his moans.

He grunts deep as I let him slide into my throat. I gag and I can feel tears in my eyes, but that only makes my pussy wetter. I slide back and suck him faster, jerking with my hands, working that big fucking cock.

He groans and pulls me back, tearing me to my feet. He grabs my wrists and turns my arms behind my back, spinning me around, pushing me against the tree. I can feel the rough bark against my chest and my face, scratching my sensitive nipples, but he doesn’t care.

His thick cock thrusts deep inside of me with a single push and I gasp, arching my back as pleasure and pain overwhelm me.

“That’s right,” he grunts. “You’re soaking fucking wet, Amelia. Have you been wondering when I’d fuck your tight pussy again?”

He thrusts deep inside of me, holding onto my wrists, pinning me there. I can’t move even if I wanted to. The tree scratches against me as he fucks my tight pussy, stretching me out, taking me deep into my walls. I can’t help but moan his name, losing my mind as pleasure overwhelms the pain and I’m lost in his sex.

He rocks in and out, sliding faster and faster, fucking me rough. I feel like he can break me if he wants, and part of me wants him to. I need him to destroy me, take me exactly the way he wants it.

He releases one wrist and grabs my throat, pulling me back toward him. I moan as his lips find my ear. “I’m going to come in this tight pussy,” he whispers. “I’m going to fuck you and make you scream my name before filling your tight cunt up with my hot cum. Is that what you want, Amelia? My little fucking pet?”

“Yes,” I gasp through his thrusts. I start to buck my ass back against him, working him harder, riding his hard cock. “Make me scream, Noah. Fuck my little pussy. Slap my ass. Make me your dirty slut. I know I’m your dirty slut.”

He groans and releases my throat before slapping my ass hard, spanking my perfect skin. I groan and reach back to grab his hip but he pushes my hand away, slapping my ass hard and pressing me against the tree.

I’m pinned and controlled as he reams into me, riding my ass, fucking me deep. I’ve never felt so completely dominated before in my entirely life, and that thought makes something stir deep inside of me.

The orgasm starts slow up through my core. I’m dominated, destroyed, completely taken. I’m nothing compared to Noah and he can break me so fucking easily with his big, thick cock.

I come hard, head tipped back, moaning his name. He grunts and keeps fucking me, rutting me, thrusting as hard as he can. He pushes me over the edge and forces me to keep going, further and further into my orgasm. My mind feels blank and new and light as pleasure rebuilds me completely.

And as it slowly ends, he comes inside of me. I can feel his hot cum deep inside of my pussy as he shoots himself into me. He groans, grunting my name, and that pushes me to a level I never knew existed.

Slowly, we come down together. Our orgasms end and I realize that I’m sweating, panting, half-dressed in the moonlight. We collapse onto the dirt together and he cradles me in his arms.

“Fuck, girl,” he says softly, chuckling. “That was amazing.”

“Noah,” I say, nuzzling his chest. “I’m sorry. I won’t worry you again.”

“If you keep fucking like that, you can worry me all you want.”

I grin and kiss his lips then let him wrap his arms around me, hugging me tight.

I’m stir crazy. I’m bored. Sometimes I’m alone for too long. But I’m never lonely, not with Noah around. He makes me feel things I never imagined I’d like. He knows what I want, even when I don’t know it.

I need to trust him. In the end, he’s trying to do what’s best for us. I’m stir crazy and don’t know how long I’ll last, but I’ll try. At least I’ll try for him.