Her Black Bull

He's bigger than anything she's been with. Longer. Thicker. And he knows it — knows exactly what it does to her, knows how to take her apart and put her back together just functional enough to walk back into her hotel room and lie down beside her husband like nothing happened.

But something is happening. Every day. Every night. In his apartment with the shutters open and the city loud below. On a rooftop above the river with the rain coming in. Against a wall with his mouth at her neck and his hands holding her exactly where he wants her.

Renata didn't plan to stray. She had twenty-one days in Kinshasa, one assignment, one local guide who knew every corner of the city. She planned to work: shoot the markets, file the essay, fly home.

Then Solomon Kasongo put his hands on her and everything she thought she knew about her own body stopped being true.

Twenty-one days. Solomon is counting every one.