Page 71 of Sorrow

She pauses, licking her sinful lips. “Five letters, right? Do it all so they’re even.”

Her strength amazes me sometimes. “You can safeword at any point.”

I know she won’t.

It takes me a few moments to map out her back and pick a spot on her shoulder blade, my fingers tracing my name there so I can gauge her reaction.

She seems... pleased. “Why your last name and not your first? Less letters?”

Because it will be your last name too one day.

“We can go with that, yeah. Less letters. Shh... focus on your breathing.” I wipe down her skin and grab my scalpel, showing it to her briefly as I mentally prepare to carve the S.

I’ve been thinking about doing this for longer than I care to admit, and now that we’re here, I have to take a moment to keep my hands from trembling in anticipation.

I’m finally gonna do it. I’ve marked her before, sure. Covered her with cum inside and out, left little bruises, even cuts that lasted days. But that could’ve been done by anyone. The hickies on her thighs could’ve been any asshole on the face of his planet, the cuts carved by any blade.

But this? My name?Ourname? No one else could ever take credit for it. Even if she leaves me, every guy who ever bends her over will see who owned her first. Sarro. “Say my name, Samara. Say it.”

“Hayes fucking Sarro.”

Hayes. Fucking. Sarro.

I’m so fucking hard when the knife pierces her skin, the whimper she releases only spurs it on. I can’t deny what this woman does for me. No one else has ever made me feel even a fraction of what shedoes. They never could. She’s exactly what I need.

Every little moan she lets out, every whimper, every gasp proves it. These cuts are deeper, meant to scar. Meant to last. Meant tobleed. And with every letter, I come a little closer to understanding that I’ll never allow another man to come anywhere near her as long as she lives. She can try to move on, if she chooses. She can attempt to find someone new. She can deny that she was made for me until her lungs run out of air, but in the end, I’ll never let her go.

S-A-R-R-O.

A past full of pain, a future full of sorrow.

A blanket full of blood.

Nowthisis art.

“Hayes,” she gasps. “Are you done? It... it hurts.”

I have to fight the urge to tell her that I love her. “Yes,” I breathe. “I’m done, Hurricane. My beautiful hurricane.”

Setting the scalpel aside, I move to reach under her and spread her legs, running my fingers through the wetness I find there with a smile. “I know it hurts, baby. But you did amazing. Let me make you feel good now.”

The metallic scent of blood fills my nose as I rub her clit, making her jerk. “Oh- fuck. N-No, I need you. Fuck me.”

I wouldn’t deny her for all the money in the world.

Without hesitation, I grip the base of my cock and shove it inside her, groaning at the tight, wet heat as she clenches around me. “Fuck, Samara.”

She lifts her hips, gripping the blanket and squirming. “Shut up and fuck me, Hayes. Hard.”

Growling, I slap a hand down on her ass and snap my hips. “Who do you belong to?”

“You. Oh god, you!”

The desperation in her voice makes me throb, but also tells me she needs everything I’ve got tonight. I fuck her at a steady, brutal pace, her screams all I hear, her pussy all I feel, and her blood all I see.

Her needy noises settle deep into my chest, finding home there just as she’s found home in me, and somehow I know she feels exactly what I do. “I know, Hurricane. I know.”

I don’t stop until she comes on my cock half a dozen times, and even then, I want to keep going. But I know her, and she needs something else soon. Cleaned up, held,cherished. Worshiped. I focus all my attention on her tight cunt and my name carved into her back, cock pulsing as I near the edge and feel my balls tighten. “I’m gonna come,” I warn her, hips snapping against her flesh. “Tell me where to come.”

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