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and yank. Puncturing her shield. Stealing her breath. Taking, always taking.
    The kiss broke and his chest panted. “I own you. Say it.”
    Rehearsed and executed endlessly, she delivered. “You own me, Sir.”
    He jumped to his feet, hands tackling his belt buckle. Oh God, she wasn’t ready. The shield. Harden the shield. It wavered around her, clinging, but not thick enough.
    How had Jay survived his pain? If he were hanging in irons, what would he have done to guard his mind from splintering apart? How resilient he must’ve been to carry the weight of so many wounds. She wanted to borrow his strength, imagined it plated over her skin.
    Roy’s pants dropped. Boxers followed. His inflamed erection grazed her lips. Rigid fingers raked over the crown of her head, twisting and yanking the short strands. “I love this length.”
    She would never cut it again.
    The fist in her hair tightened. The metal collar around her neck held her immobile. He punched his hips forward and slammed the head of his penis to the back of her throat.
    Deep breath. No air. She gasped. Shit! No air. Relax the throat. Stretch the tongue. Swallow the thrusts.
Not working.
Her eyes burned and her gagging was loud and sharp.
    His pelvis rotated, burrowing in. Wiry hair scrubbed her face. “Oooh…Hot damn, Charlee. Mother…fuuuuck.” Then the pounding began.
    Tears clogged her nose and spasmodic bursts of air, noisy and wet, escaped her lips between pumps. She swallowed, slackened her throat, and fought for every shallow breath.
Please hurry. Oh Jesus, be done already
.
    “Do you know how long it’s been?” He panted and plunged.
    No, no. Stop talking and finish
. She shook her head, as much as his stabbing allowed. The metal bands around her ankles, wrists, and neck dug in, suffocating. Tears flooded her vision and seared her cheeks.
    His pace intensified. “Four years.” Thrust. “Two months.” Thrust. “Seventeen days.” He drove into her and held fast. His head fell back, and he roared to the ceiling, erupting down her throat. She choked, swallowed the bitterness of his release mixed with the salt of her snot and tears.
    He pulled out, and she felt the relief in the sag of her body. He kicked off his shoes, the clothes at his ankles, and squatted to capture her eyes. “Last time I fucked you was in the backseat of the Expedition outside of Benu. Do you remember it, Charlee? Yeah, of course you do.”
    The restaurant. The night she escaped. Dread crept over her and raised bumps on her skin.
    “I trusted you. I gave you that unsupervised moment. A gift.”
    And she’d seized it. Excused herself to the restroom, slipped through the kitchen, and escaped out the backdoor. She ran to the nearest motorist. She ran for four years.
    “And you used it against me. Never again, Charlee.” His anger was palpable, pelting her face in a mist of spit. “You won’t leave the tower. Every action supervised. Every. Single. Breath.” He twirled a finger above his head, indicating the walls, the ceiling, and the cameras. “Now, you owe me four years’ atonement, but I promise”—his smile was diseased and more painful than what she’d just endured—”I’ll go easy on you tonight.”
    From one rapid heartbeat to the next, he was behind her. He spread her cheeks and attacked her with his mouth, tongue digging and scooping between her labia. He shifted to her rectum and continued the assault. He spat, and the logy landed there, crawled down her crack, and clung to her inner thigh. The only lubrication he’d grant her.
    It wouldn’t be as painful as the first time, the night he took her virginity. She wasn’t that sixteen-year-old girl anymore.
    She put on her magic shield, pushed her arms through the sleeves, and wrapped it around her legs. The self-hypnosis prepared her, but when he impaled her ass, the shock of unbearable pain broke through her armor. She yelped, bit her tongue.
    His teeth landed on her back, gnawing as he pounded into