Page 56 of Marked

More carving, up, down. Over and then up, down, sideways.

I lose track of the direction of the file, as my chest fills with warmth. My body clenches, no longer in pain, but in want.

When he’s finished, he brings his eyes up to mine. Light shines in the middle of the darkness.

“Do you want to see?” he asks, dropping the file to the countertop.

I nod, too aroused, too needy to open my mouth lest I’ll beg him to fill me with something other than pain. And he’s not finishedplaying.

I won’t steal his joy from him.

He opens the top drawer in the vanity and pulls out a hand mirror. Aiming it at my chest, he angles it so that I can see the beauty he’s created.

Z + H

He’s carved our initials into my chest. Tiny pearls of blood bead up from the cuts in some areas. He catches a drop as it starts to roll down over my breast, and brings it to my mouth. This time he smears it across my lips, painting them as if it were lipstick instead of my own blood.

“You were so pretty with it before, I wanted to see it again,” he admits, putting the mirror back in the drawer and dropping it. “How do you feel?”

I spread my legs more.

“I need you.”

“I need you, too.” He grabs at his belt, yanking at it until it opens and he’s able to shove down his jeans and boxers. “I’m not going to be gentle, little bird. My cock’s never been harder.”

“No. Never gentle.” I inch closer to the edge of the counter.

“I’m going to make it hurt,” he promises, and my pussy weeps with joy.

“Please. Always.” I suck in a breath when his hand sinks into my hair and he yanks my head back.

I can’t see him. Only the ceiling as he thrusts his cock into me.

“Fuck you’re wet.” He bites down on my neck, twisting his hand in my hair until the burn in my scalp makes me whimper.

But he promised not to be gentle.

He vowed to make it hurt.

And he never lies to me.

His teeth drag across my collar bone, then up to my neck, where he bites into my shoulder.

“Zack!” I wrap my arms around him. “Oh, god!” I scream, pulling at him. And he doesn’t disappoint.

He gives me everything I never understood I needed.

Wrapping an arm around my waist, he holds me steady while he plows into me relentlessly.

The edge of the counter digs into my ass, but it only drives me closer to the edge.

“Fuck,” he groans, biting my earlobe.

“Oh! I can’t…oh…” I throw my head back just as the storm crests and my body spirals with pain and pleasure. A dance so erotic, so sweet, it shoves me over the cliff, and I’m left panting and screaming his name as the waves of it all attempt to drown me.

“Fuck, Harley! Fuck!” He lets go of my hair, using both hands on my hips to pull me to him, driving full force into me again and again, until he stills. Unleashing his pleasure into me with a roar worthy of a warrior.

How fitting.

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