"Do it again," she moans, pressing her hips back. So I do, this time on the opposite cheek. She seems to cry out in both pain and pleasure and it sends a tick down my spine.

My hand rubs the spot that is now turning red, and she senses me hesitate when I'm sure she's ready for me to make my next move, but I'm frozen. Yesterday, my mind was so clear, but now it feels like a hundred voices all vying for my attention—for control, and I don't know which one to listen to.

"Whatever you're feeling," she says, drawing my eyes to her again. "I want you to take it out on me."

I swallow. Why is she doing this to me? Why does she want me to hurt her?

She's tempting me, that's why. She's trying to turn me into the twisted fuck I've been fighting against for years. And she has no idea what she’s releasing.

Grabbing her hips, I slam my body against hers, grinding my erection along the crevice of backside. She moans, writhing from the friction through my shorts.

With a quick flick of the waistband, my cock bounds free, and I don’t hesitate before burying myself deep into Shelby’s warm folds. She lets out a shocked moan. A shiver ripples up her spine as I freeze. I let her body adjust to the size for a moment, but I’m not trying to be gentle. She wanted me to be rough, so when her hooded gaze falls on mine in the reflection, I start to move again, this time picking up speed and slamming so deep, I know she feels every inch.

Her cries can probably be heard on the top floor.

It doesn’t take me long before I’m unloading inside her, feeling her pussy clench around me just before her knees start to weaken beneath her. Quickly, I scoop her up in one arm and hold her against my body, still buried deep inside.

For a short moment, I feel good. The residual ecstasy has me in its grips until it doesn’t and then I start to feel bad. Very fucking bad.

"Why are you doing this to me?" I mutter, finding her eyes again in the mirror. There's a moment of surprise in her eyes.

"Doing what?" she answers.

I don’t reply. Instead, I let her go and pull out, feeling the cold lonely air on my dick, which is not deflating fast enough. She pulls up her pants, and I see the confusion on her face. Last night, we ended sex with cuddling and pleasantries. And I don’t know what’s gotten into my head tonight, but what we just did has me feeling less like a man and more like an animal.

She reaches for me, and I flinch, turning to pick up our stuff, ready to be in the shower and far away from the new awkwardness in the room.

"Talk to me," she says, reaching for my face, and on reflex, I grab her wrist, squeezing it in my hands so hard she flinches. Immediately I let go.