Chapter 88

MADDISON

Asher had slipped into bed a while ago, and I’d been playing possum, pretending to be asleep. I didn’t want to talk about my day, didn’t want to face him and confess that I’d agreed to go back, despite his vehement objections. He was under the illusion that he could outsmart Mr. Fennick and Jonathon.

The reality is simple—few people could penetrate their system and gather the evidence needed to bring them down. Not many have access to their computers and files, but I’m one of the few Jonathon trusts. Maybe I can use that trust to do some good.

Asher’s father was right. His words echoed in my mind. If it’s not me, it’ll be Addison. That girl has already suffered too much. I hate to admit it, but even I can’t match her fiery spirit and fierce charisma.

Some men crave a woman like her, one who isn’t afraid to fight back. But no woman is ever truly matched to a man. We’re always overpowered, at least physically.

I have a deadline—five-thirty a.m. That’s when I have to say goodbye to Asher, but I squander the first few hours with him. I lie still, pretending to sleep, as he settles beside me, making the mattress bounce.

He talks to me, touches me, but soon the room falls silent. He’s asleep by ten p.m., and I roll over to watch him, my heart heavy. The pain isn’t as intense now, just a dull ache.

The bleeding has stopped. The tiny stitches in the three small incisions on my belly and in my belly button, where they went in to remove the baby and my tube, will dissolve on their own in a week. Callum advised me to take it easy, to give myself time to find the evidence he and the officer need.

He wants me to rest, to stop putting my body on the line for the men who pay handsomely for us girls. But how can I stand by while the other girls, especially the younger ones, are used? I’ve always stepped in for them.

Most men don’t mind; they don’t even mention it to Mr. Fennick. And those who refuse find themselves drugged. I slip a small amount of Mr. Fennick’s Special Sanctum drug into their drinks.

Once they’re in a daze, I pretend to be the girl they requested. Most can still function, albeit confused and probably feeling tipsy, but they take me anyway. The drug I use is Mr. Fennick’s own concoction, offered to any man who pays for the privilege of sleeping with the girls in the club.

It’s supposed to enhance the experience. The thought of returning to Sanctum, of shouldering those responsibilities again, sends a shiver down my spine. But something inside me knows this is the final hurdle.

The light at the end of the tunnel is within reach. Callum has given me five days. The next shipment is due in six days, next Friday morning. Some of his workers have appointments on Saturday.

Specific orders, I assume, based on the timing. That’s how Mr. Fennick operates. He keeps the girls in one of his three bases, getting them hooked on his drugs.

They usually stay there for about a month, maybe less, before he sends them to Sanctum for Jonathon and me to prepare them for their…duties. Two shipments a month—one group of girls he thinks will make him money, and the other for specific, long-term placements.

Ebony was one of those, but something happened; something miraculous that allowed Asher to have her. I feel a wall rising within me, as if my body knows it’s about to reenter the danger zone.

I hadn’t realized how much I’d hardened, how accustomed I’d become to being this…version of myself. I’ve always had a plan, a strategy. I’m not a fool, quite the opposite, and I’ve always been ready for a situation like this.

I’ve always dreamed of a knight in shining armor coming to my rescue. Hidden behind the ninth brick from my headboard, I’ve stashed a collection of photos and documents that could potentially incriminate Mr. Fennick and Jonathon.

Documents that Mr. Fennick insisted I destroy. Even though I stored them with a glimmer of hope, I never really expected them to be of any use. I push the thought away as I get on my knees.

I’ve spent hours contemplating how to bid Asher farewell. Maybe the simplest way would have been a sincere goodbye, with a hint of caution to let me do as I wish. But I’ve chosen a more covert approach.

I slip off my underwear before climbing onto his lap. He’s only wearing lounge shorts, and beneath them is his impressive manhood. I’ve never wanted to do this for my own satisfaction.

I’ve never envisioned the pleasure Asher has given me. I think that’s why I want our farewell to be like this—a sleepy lovemaking and a kiss goodbye. His bare chest undulates under my fingers as I straddle him, feeling the outline of his manhood between my legs.

I trace the contours of his muscular body with my fingers, leaning over him until my face is close to his. Inhaling deeply, his unique scent fills my nostrils.

“Asher,” I whisper, starting to move up and down, my wet lips gliding along his now-hardening cock.

He mumbles something unintelligible. His hands reach for me, trying to find a grip on my hips. I probably shouldn’t be doing this. The hospital advised me to wait at least a month to six weeks, but three at the very least, and it hasn’t even been two.

But when will I have another opportunity with a man like him? Will there be another time when I can pursue my own pleasure with a man I’ve grown to trust?

I don’t think there will be, especially not if Jonathon discovers my planned betrayal. I’ve been on the receiving end of his violence before, and I have no doubt that one day…he might go too far before he realizes.

Maybe that day is coming soon, but hopefully not before I’ve saved any other girl from ever encountering Sanctum. Asher rolls fully onto his back, adjusting himself to hold me completely.

He groans as I move again, and this time when I sit up, I pull his shorts down far enough for his cock to spring free. For a moment, I’m unsure of what to do with it, feeling insecure and frightened and at a loss, but then his comforting words, heavy with sleep, reassure me that he’s semi-conscious during our encounter.

“What are you waiting for?” he asks softly, tracing small circles on my hip that are somewhat comforting.

My eyes meet his. His are half-closed but open nonetheless.

“You, Asher. I’m waiting for you,” I murmur.

He grins that boyish grin that turns my stomach into mush.

“Sit up,” he requests gently.

I comply, and I watch as he grips his own cock, positioning it like a rod of impending doom.

“Sit on it,” he instructs me after a long moment of me staring down between my legs. I’m hovering just above the tip; one small slip of my grip on myself and he would penetrate me anyway. Maybe that would be easier—to get it over with and out of the way, but I choose a different path.

I decide, for some inexplicable reason, to lower myself onto his length as slowly as I possibly can. Jesus, why does that feel so good? So right?

It’s never been like this with anyone but him, and I don’t think I’ll ever recover from this—from the butterflies that flutter within me whenever he’s around or the tingling sensation that occurs whenever he touches me.

Or the intense heat when he’s inside me, and I’m on the verge of releasing an incredible pleasure that only he has given me in the many years of being sexually exploited. Not that he’s exploiting me, far from it. If anything, I’m the one taking from him right now.

I’m the one who straddled him, and I’m the one begging for him. I startle as he sits up, his chest pressing against mine.

“What is it?” he asks.

“Nothing,” I reply, blinking rapidly at him.

I had miscalculated his level of exhaustion because, at this moment, he’s wide awake and focused on observing me. His hands guide me from my hips, pressing me down onto his cock so that my clit grazes against his hair.

I let out a sigh, not out of desire, but out of necessity.

“They gave us a month and a half, Maddison,” he whispers into my ear, his lips brushing against my cheek.

“Don’t call me that,” I plead, tossing my hair over my right shoulder.

One of his hands travels up my back, seizing my hair to tilt my head back.

“Why?” he questions, peppering kisses along my throat.

“That’s not my name,” I clarify softly.

“So, what should I call you?” he inquires between kisses.

“Ma—Maddy,” I respond.

“Beautiful,” he comments as I quicken my pace.

His hand remains on my left hip, guiding my thrusts to a rhythm I doubt I could maintain on my own. It feels like he’s pursuing both our dreams, and I’m completely on board.

I crave it, a stark contrast to my usual attitude toward sex. Asher affects me in ways that go beyond the physical—ways that started that first day at Sanctum.

And if I’m being truthful….

Oh shit, my orgasm hits me unexpectedly, the pleasure radiating deep within my stomach, devoid of any pain this time. It surges through me, immersing me in a wave of pleasure.

This is precisely why I chose to bid farewell in this manner. Our bodies are slick with sweat, his hands gliding over my skin to pull me closer, his lips kissing the junction of my neck and shoulder as I gasp for breath.

“Mm-hmm, so good,” he murmurs into my ear as he pulls me down with him. We land on the pillow with a soft thud, and despite myself, I remain on top of him, finding a comfortable spot to rest my head as I feel his heart pounding beneath me.

He doesn’t utter another word, nor does he stir. He’s as motionless as he was when I first climbed onto him, as if he were never awake to begin with.

“I’m sorry, Asher,” I whisper softly before allowing myself to drift off for a few hours of sleep.