Marcus had her upstairs and on the edge of her own bed before Elena’s bag even hit the floor. The clothes he had dressed her in that morning came off in quick, deliberate pulls—cardigan, top, jeans, the plain black panties that were already soaked through. He left her naked in the middle of the afternoon light and stood back for a moment, looking at what he had made of her.

The hickey on her left breast had darkened further, a rich purple-red that stood out against her skin. Faint shiny traces of the dried cum from earlier still clung in places across her collarbones and the upper curves of her...