“Apple.”
A half-groan, half-chuckle falls from his lips. “Fine, apple it is. I won’t stop unless you sayapple.”
The word dances at the tip of my tongue, unspoken. I’m incoherent, writhing in his arms, unsure whether I want to run away or crawl under his skin.
He holds me flush to him, the warmth of his chest seeping into my back, his cock prolonging the torturous high.
“Fuck, I need to see you. All of you.” He pulls out, hauling me up, one arm under my butt for support. “Ikeep you safe, Hailey. Me. No one else.” He brushes my wet hair away, out of my face, as he drops me on the bed. “AndIdecide how I do it. Is that clear?”
“Time,” I mutter, swallowing hard. “Five minutes. I need five minutes, please...”
He smirks, shoving a pillow under my hips. Spreading my legs open, he makes room for himself, his lips crushing into mine. He’s still dressed, his tracksuit bottoms halfway down his ass, his t-shirt—damp where my wet hair soaked it when he crowded me in the bathroom—clinging to the sheet of muscles rippling down his abdomen.
I want his skin on mine and his weight pinning me to the mattress. Bowing off the bed, I sit up, dragging the hem of his t-shirt over his head, my eyes drawn to a patch of Saran wrap protecting a fresh tattoo on his pec.
It’s red. Two smeared lines... familiar lines. The exact same ones he drew when he wiped my bloody fingers after taking my virginity.
My breath hitches.
A curious chill shakes me from head to toe, my pulse beating a pounding rhythm.
“That’s... that’s...” My mind’s spinning and I can’t... I can’t think. I don’t understand, but I touch, checking it’s real, that I’m not dreaming. “Why?” The word barely makes it past my lips, past the confusion twisting inside me.
He takes my wrist, guiding my open palm until it covers the tattoo, right over the rhythmic flutter of his heart.
A torrent of opposing emotions fights for the spotlight inside my mind. I don’t know what I feel until my eyes flicker upward, locking with his and I knowexactlywhat I feel.
Love.
Deep, raw, messed up. Beautiful.Empowering. So pure it’s unlike anything I ever felt.
God, the way he watches me, feasting on my face, roving every detail like he never wants to look away. That pathological possessiveness is back. I feel it in how he clutches my hand against his chest. Alarming and enthralling. Sweet and edgy.
The question dangles between us, suspended in the charged air. His thumb brushes the inside of my wrist, inciting shivers across my skin.
“You asked if I’m yours,” he starts in a low tone that vibrates deep into my bones. “Marked...” He presses my hand harder to the ink, “...yours.”
I’m motionless, caught in the gravity of his words. I asked in the heat of the moment, knowing damn well it was a fantasy. A naïve girl’s dream that she could tame, and hold onto, a man like him.
A naïve girl’s dream that’s become a reality.
He’s mine. The tattoo is his way of proving I have a power over him. Power no one else ever had.
I feel like I’ve caged the Devil.
“Mine,” I repeat quietly. The word hangs in the air between us as I scramble to meet his lips.
His hands slide down, full of my hips, and he flips me so I land on my back. He’s on me like a savage, forcing the silk-covered steel of his cock inside me. I’m trapped under his body, loving his weight pinning me down while he rocks back and forth, his kisses deep, demanding, almost brutal.
Almost bruising.
Almost.
I move with him, my body running a fever, my mind in a frenzy. We both fight to touch as much as we can, chasing our orgasms. He’s using me, powering in so deep I yelp, then deeper still.
“I can’t get enough of you,” he growls. “Come, Hailey.”
We’re slick with sweat, hot, and panting.
