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“Fuck me, Blake,” she gasps. “Please, fuck me.”

My cock is painfully hard, and she doesn’t have to ask me again. My hands go to my jeans, and I flick open my belt and free myself before stripping off my long-sleeved t-shirt. I wrap my hand around my dick, but she knocks it away and replaces it with her own. God, her touch feels good, and she squeezes me, perhaps a little too hard, before running her hand up and down my length.

I crawl up onto the bed with her, covering her with my body, placing myself between her slim thighs. Her hand is still around my dick, and she positions the head at her pussy, but I don’t penetrate her. Instead, she masturbates me with my tip rubbing her clit, smearing me in her wetness.

She speaks against my mouth as we kiss again.

“God, you’re so big and hard. I need you inside me, Blake. Now.”

I yank her sweater over her head, and I inwardly smile at finding her without a bra. I duck my head to her beautiful breasts, cupping one with my hand and laving the hard nipple with my tongue, before switching to the other one.

She releases me just as I start to penetrate her, and I grab her hands, much as I had before, and pin them above the bed.

Without giving her time to stretch or adjust to me, I thrust inside her, hard and fast. She cries out, her back arching. I keep hold of her hands and fuck her hard. She feels incredible, and I know I won’t last for long. I pound my hips, fucking her deep. Her tits bounce beneath me as she whimpers and mewls, and I catch her cries between my lips.

Her body is mine. The decisions we make our mine. Windridge Hall is mine.

Our bodies work together, taking and giving pleasure. We gasp into each other’s mouths, staring into each other’s eyes until it becomes too much and one of us looks away. The air is filled with the musky scent of us fucking and the slapping of our skin together. Our momentum builds, and I reach between us to press my fingers to her clit. I drive deeper, with more deliberation, ensuring I hit that spot that always tips her over the edge.

She unravels beneath me, her pussy milking my cock. With a yell, I let go. I grab her hip, pinning her in place, and I ram myself deeper still, as pleasure races up my spine and spills from my cock. I come inside her, filling her pussy with jerk after jerk.

Aspen goes slack beneath me, her chest rising with each breath, her skin damp. We remain silent for a moment, just letting the final waves of pleasure course through us, catching our breath and allowing our heart rates to slow.

Carefully, I climb off her, but I pull her into my arms, her head resting on my chest.

“What will you do if I get service on my phone and I call for help?” she asks me, lifting her head slightly to look into my face.

“I guess that will be your choice, and we’ll just have to live with the consequences.”

“Consequences?”

“You’re a smart girl, Aspen, no matter how much you argue that fact. You know there will be consequences.”

With a sigh, she settles back down. “Yes, I guess I do.”

50

ASPEN

I don’t wait for service on my phone, and I don’t call anyone for help. Instead, I do the opposite and turn the phone off and throw it back in my bedside drawer. I tell myself that I’m keeping it for emergencies, like if we run out of food and have no other choice, but even then I’m wondering if I’ll ever bring myself to use it.

Inviting any kind of emergency services to Windridge Hall will change everything. Dov could be arrested, Levi and Blake, too, for covering up a murder. Maybe I will be as well, though I’m pretty sure the police would be able to see how I’ve been trapped here. The fact that I’ve also been fucking all three men implicated in Tobias’s murder probably won’t look good for me, but it isn’t illegal.

Not that it matters, because I have no intention of turning them in.

I have used Dov’s connection to get him to read up on where the police are with Tobias’s investigation. His parents have returned from Europe and are appealing for information, which makes me feel terrible. Even though they never seemed to be close, I know exactly how it feels to be missing a loved one, and none of what Tobias did is their fault. I’m warring between wanting to ease their pain with information and needing to protect it with my life.

Is someone out there going through the same kind of anguish about my sister? Does someone care that they’ve left us in limbo all these years when they know exactly what happened to her? A few months ago, I couldn’t get my head around someone wanting to be so cruel, but now I kind of understand it. Not that I believe my sister ever hurt someone in the way Tobias hurt me.

The other news articles claim that the police are following ‘several leads,’ but they don’t mention who or what those leads are. That surprises me—I’d been sure my name would have been linked with Tobias’s.

But then understanding dawns. Maybe I’m not linked with him because he simply never talked about me? He wasn’t there at my father’s funeral. Because my dad had been so ill toward the end, it wasn’t as though Tobias and I really went out anywhere together. If we saw each other, it was because I went over to his place and we stayed in and got Door Dash and had sex. I’d been so exhausted and miserable at the time, I hadn’t cared that we never went anywhere. Is it possible that Tobias’s friends simply didn’t know he was still seeing me? Had his comment about picking girls up at the bar been true, and his friends had given the police names of other girls he’d been with?

I wait for the wave of anger to rise inside me, but none comes. If anything, Tobias did me a favor. If the police aren’t looking for me, they won’t find Dov, and that will be the end of it.

The weather is getting warmer now. It’s still dangerously cold, but I saw snow melt from the roof of the orangery yesterday where the sun was hitting it right. I should be looking forward to spring, and I am, but at the same time I’m filled with trepidation about what will follow. Being here, at Windridge Hall, also scares me. I haven’t noticed how the men’s portions of food at the dinner table are noticeably smaller than before. Are they losing weight? They keep my plate piled high and encourage me to eat, but it fills me with guilt when they’re going hungry. Levi has been out hunting but returns emptyhanded each time, or with something small like a rabbit or squirrel that will barely feed one man, never mind three.

Thinking that the orangery will most likely be warmer than the rest of the house, and wanting to see the sunlight, I head there.