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Christ," he gasped, then started the long climb back into bed.

    * * * * *

    The 'thump' of Jared flailing his way off the bed inserted itself into Kara's dream as his bedroom door slamming open.
    She sat up on the couch and saw him walking softly toward her, splendidly naked. His shoulders were broad and his chest was lightly furred with crisp black hair, hair that tapered down past his belly button into his lush pubic hair. His sex jutted toward her. He wasn't smiling.
    She saw, with no real surprise, that she was naked, too.

    "Come closer," he said, even as he did so himself, and then he was standing before her, his hand on the back of her neck, urging her forward. "Touch me."
    "I—"
    "With your mouth, Kara. Touch me with your mouth. I want you to, and you want you to."
    "It's a secret." The wanting. The craving.
    "I won't tell." The pressure on the back of her neck increased, and she opened her lips and took him.
    His long, rolling purr of satisfaction kindled her own excitement.
    His palms were on either side of her face as he rocked his hips against her mouth. Then he pulled away and knelt between her legs. He spread her thighs wide and pushed her back, then pulled her legs across his. His hands were busy at the small of her back, pulling her toward him, and she felt him enter her with sweet and delicious slowness.
    She tried to bring her arms around him but, strangely, couldn't move them an inch. She was pushed back so far, her legs were so wide. He crouched and rode her, rode her. It was hard to get a breath. It was hard to even want to.
    "When I'm done," he said, perfectly calm, "I'll leave."
    "Yes, that's—"
    "—what people do, yes. I know. You didn't think you could have a normal life with me, did you?"
    "Why can't I?"
    "Why should you?" He pulled out and, with savage swiftness, flipped her over. Shoved her, hard. She grabbed wildly for the couch, and found herself bent over the armrest. Felt him grip her ass, part her cheeks, and brutally shove himself inside her.. Red agony slashed across her vision as he shoved and withdrew and pushed some more. His fingers dug into her flesh, marking it, and she squirmed to get away. To her extreme humiliation, beneath the pain she could sense something else begin to stir.
    "Say it."
    She said nothing. He shoved , harder than he ever had, so hard she could almost feel his cock in the back of her throat. His fingers were busy between her legs, pinching the tender lips, pulling on them. He withdrew almost all the way and she went limp, thinking he was done, and then he rammed himself into her again. She made a sound between a moan and a scream.
    "Say it or I'll stop."
    Everything was tightening, was getting hotter, and it hurt, God it hurt, but it felt embarrassingly marvelous, too, and he couldn't stop before she found her climax, he couldn't: "Everybody leaves."
    "Good. Yes. Everybody leaves." Although his brutal thrusting didn't stop, his fingers between her thighs became gentle, toyed with her throbbing clit, swept over it, squeezed it, rubbed, rubbed, rubbed...
    Things went dark, very dark around the edges as her orgasm screamed through her. She lay across the arm rest for a moment, gasping, then turned over.
    He was gone.

    * * * * *

    The next morning, Jared and Kara managed to get up, refresh themselves, have a pleasant conversation, and leave together without actually making eye contact.
    Jared crept around the apartment feeling guilty, and nearly screamed when he opened the fridge and saw the jar of pickles on the second shelf.
    For her part, Kara was mortified. She prayed Jared couldn't read her expression. She didn't like pain, she had never liked pain, so what was with that dream? In real life, if Jared ever tried such a thing, she'd break his arm in two places.
    Right?

    * * * * *

    After driving downtown to find a restaurant, they'd parked the car and walked, enjoying the unseasonably warm weather. Indian summer had been going on for more than a month. Chicago