I stopped waiting until the notice appeared.

On the twenty-seventh of the following month I texted him before the balance even turned red.

I’ll be short again.

The reply came in under five minutes.

Eight o’clock. Door unlocked. Same position.

At 7:50 I left the chain off, stripped, and lay on the bed with my knees up and my hands holding them open. My body was already tight with anticipation. When the knock came—three short, certain taps—I called for him to come in. Roman stepped inside, locked the door, and looked at me exactly as he had the two previous times: calm, assessing, already hard behind his jeans.

“Good,” he...