His fingers were right back between my legs, stroking me, teasing me until I was on fire, a fever moving through every part of me. He stroked me between my thighs, showing me he was in control, and he’d fuck me when he damn well pleased, when he was ready.

I turned my head, needing to see him, to feel every part of my skin pressed against him. The angle was awkward, my neck protesting, but I didn’t care as he slipped his other arm around my body, gripped my chin between his fingers, and kept me in place as he slammed his mouth down on mine and shoved his tongue between my lips.

The kiss was angry, as if he was pissed he wanted me as much as he did.

But I knew Arlo, understood the way his mind worked, that this powerful possessiveness he had toward me made him feel unhinged and emotional in a way he’d never experienced before. It was because of these emotions I’d awoken in a man who’d never experienced them that told me the pain he caused me leading to the most exquisite pleasure was now my life.

And I never wanted it to end.

He didn’t give me any warning, just shoved two fingers into me so hard and fast that my inner muscles clamped down immediately, and I cried out from the agony and ecstasy. He kissed me harder and swallowed the sounds leaving me, taking it into himself until we were one. He finger-fucked me for long seconds, stretching my tight pussy, and scissored the digits within me until I was writhing against him, begging and murmuring incomprehensibly for him to fuck me already.

One minute, his fingers were lodged in my body, and in the next he bent me forward slightly and I felt the thick, bulbous head of his cock notched at my pussy hole. There was no waiting, no preamble. Arlo shoved deep inside me until no sound could escape me because I couldn’t breathe. The pain and pleasure mixed into one sensation that had me soaring.

Even all these months later, even though Arlo fucked me all the time as if he couldn’t bear to be separated from me, as if he needed to be connected in the most primal way, having his huge cock in me felt like that first time he took my virginity. He was a heavy, powerful presence in my body.

He had one hand on my hip, his fingers digging into my flesh so tightly I knew there would be bruises in the morning, black and purple marks along my pale flesh that were physical reminders of what he’d done to me. His mark, and a warning to anyone who thought they could take me from him.