Morning light filtered through the blinds, casting warm stripes across the wrecked bed. Ethan stirred first, his body sore in the best way from hours of claiming her. He turned his head and there it was: Jane's naked ass, arched slightly as she lay on her stomach, the curve perfect, skin still marked with faint pink from his hands. He reached out without thinking and slapped it—harder than playful this time, the crack sharp in the quiet room.
Jane gasped awake, body jerking, a soft cry escaping her lips. She rolled halfway over, green eyes wide and glassy, one hand flying to the stinging cheek. For a second, raw vulnerability flashed across her face—shock, a flicker of fear, then something darker. Heat.
"Ethan…" Her voice cracked, thick with sleep and leftover tears from the night. She didn't cover herself. She just stared at him, lips trembling.
He didn't apologize. He slid closer, morning wood pressing hot against her thigh, and slapped the other cheek just as hard. She whimpered, but her back arched, pushing into his palm.
"You're awake now," he said low, voice rough. "Good. I want you awake when I remind you who you belong to."
Tears welled instantly. One slipped down her cheek as she nodded, biting her lip hard enough to leave marks. "I know," she whispered. "I know I'm yours. I just… I'm scared."
He pulled her into him, chest to chest, her soft breasts crushed against him. She was shaking. He could feel her heart hammering.
"Scared of what?" he asked, fingers digging into her ass, kneading the sting.
"That this is real," she choked out. "That I threw away fifteen years of marriage for… for an eighteen-year-old who makes me feel like I'm on fire. That I'm a terrible wife. A terrible person. That you'll wake up one day and see how old I am, how used up, and leave me worse than John ever did."
The words hit him like punches. He saw the depth of it now—the guilt eating her alive, the self-loathing mixing with desperate need. It made his chest tight and his cock throb harder at the same time.
He kissed her roughly, swallowing the sob that broke from her throat. "You think I'd leave?" he growled against her mouth. "You think I'd walk away from the woman who screams my name like it's the only word she knows? Who begs to be used like a slut in her own husband's bed?"
Another tear fell. She clutched at him, nails digging into his back. "I don't deserve you," she whispered. "But God help me, I need you. I hate myself for it, but I need you."
He rolled her beneath him, spreading her thighs with his knees. She was soaked already—shame and desire tangled so tight she couldn't tell them apart. He slid into her in one slow, punishing thrust, watching her face crumple with relief and agony.
They fucked like that—slow, deep, brutal in its intimacy. Every time she tried to hide her face, he grabbed her jaw and forced her to look at him. Tears streamed sideways into her hair.
"Say it," he demanded, grinding deep, hitting the spot that made her sob harder. "Tell me what you are."
"I'm yours," she cried, voice breaking. "Your submissive whore. Your harem slut. I betrayed everything for your cock and I'd do it again. I hate that I love it. I hate that I love you."
The confession hung between them like smoke. She froze, eyes wide, realizing what she'd just said.
Ethan's rhythm faltered for the first time. Love. The word was dangerous, too big for what this was supposed to be. But hearing it from her—raw, broken, real—ignited something feral in him.
He slammed into her harder, one hand wrapping around her throat just tight enough to make her gasp. "Again," he snarled.
"I love you," she sobbed, legs locking around him, heels digging into his ass to pull him deeper. "God forgive me, I love you."
They came together like a collision—her body seizing around him, tears flowing freely now, his own release tearing out of him with a guttural groan. He stayed buried inside her, forehead pressed to hers, both of them shaking.
The phone buzzed on the nightstand. John's name.
Jane stared at it like it was a snake. Her hand trembled as she reached for it, put it on speaker.
"Hey, beautiful," John said, oblivious and cheerful. "Just landed in Chicago. Bad news—the project's bigger than we thought. Gonna be at least two, maybe three months before I'm home. But it's huge money, babe. We're talking that house in Tuscany finally."
Jane's face crumpled. The tears that had slowed started again, silent and devastating.
"Three months?" Her voice was small, destroyed. "You're leaving me alone for three more months?"
Ethan felt her clench around his still-hard cock inside her, anger and hurt pulsing through her body.
"I know it sucks," John said, "but it's for us—"
"There is no us!" she suddenly screamed into the phone, making Ethan flinch. "You're never here! You leave me in this fucking house like a goddamn doll on a shelf! I'm done waiting for a husband who doesn't want me!"
Silence on the line. Then, stunned: "Jane, what the hell—"
She hung up. Threw the phone across the room so hard it cracked against the wall.
Then she broke.
Sobs tore out of her—ugly, wrenching, years of loneliness pouring out all at once. She clung to Ethan like he was the only solid thing left in her world, face buried in his neck, body shaking violently.
"I'm sorry," she choked between sobs. "I'm so sorry I'm such a mess. I'm too old for you, too broken—"
"Shut up," he said fiercely, holding her tight, one hand stroking her hair. "You're mine. Broken, messy, crying—all of it. I'm keeping every piece."
She cried harder at that, but slowly the sobs eased into hiccups, then into shaky breaths against his skin. When she finally pulled back, her eyes were red, mascara streaked, but there was steel beneath the ruin.
"I'm really done with him," she whispered. "Divorce papers when he gets back. I don't care about the money or the house. I just want you."
Ethan kissed her slow, tasting salt and surrender.
She tried to get up after, legs wobbling. "Let me make you breakfast. Please. Let me take care of you."
He checked the time and cursed. School. He dressed fast while she watched from the bed, sheet clutched to her chest, looking small and lost and completely his.
At the door he pulled her to him one last time. Both hands gripped her bare ass hard, fingers digging in possessively, molding the flesh until she moaned into his mouth. He kissed her deep—claiming, filthy, pouring everything into it.
"Be good today," he murmured against her swollen lips. "Touch yourself thinking about me. I'll be back tonight to wreck you again."
"Yes," she breathed, eyes shining with fresh tears and devotion. "I'll be waiting. Always."
He left her standing naked in the doorway, watching him go like a woman saying goodbye to the only thing keeping her alive.
The morning air felt electric. The system glowed quietly in his vision:
**Harem Member: Jane Smith – Emotional Bond Maxed. Absolute Submission.**
Ethan walked toward school with the taste of her tears still on his tongue and the weight of her love heavy in his chest.
The game had just gotten a lot more dangerous.