“She could just imagine, all her friends and family mourning around her grave. The tombstone would read Kari Wagner, Died of Sheer Stupidity. It would be almost as bad to have her grave marker read Died of Terminal Bedroom Boredom.”

“Some man would come to her room. Maybe she would hesitate, and he'd grab her, pin her to the mattress, force her to cooperate.”

“Dios, she'd never come so hard in her life. How many people died this way? How would he ever explain to the ambulance crews that he'd chained his girlfriend out on the deck and killed her with too many orgasms?”

“He liked to touch, she realized. In bed, he kept his arms around her or a hand on her like now. The way he played with her breasts, or just touched her, or ran his hands over her body, made her feel so...so beautiful, Desirable.”

“For her, an orgasm felt more like a sneeze, certainly not the earthquake her friends described, and nowhere close to the shrieks of pleasure from the apartment next door. What would that feel like? To be so overwhelmed as to actually scream?”

“She was so light; he could hold her all night without a problem.”

“He'd seen when she began to panic, but he hadn't offered comfort like other Doms or changed his plans. He'd just waited her out. She could hate him a little for that.”