Page 69 of Beautiful Scar

I push him down, both hands on his chest, and grind. I’m so close I’m whimpering and shaking. I dig down into him, pussy dripping along his shaft, getting him soaked, and not caring one bit. His spit is drying on my nipples, and his blood-red palm prints are marked on my ass. I’m his, entirely his, owned, dominated, and filled to the brim.

“I want to feel it,” he whispers, one hand moving up my body, over my breast, thumb into my mouth. “Bite down. Then fucking come.”

I moan, and that’s it for me. All my triggers finally explode. I break like porcelain, shattering all over his thick cock, filthy and wild, as I bite his finger hard enough to taste blood.

He moans in response and thrusts up inside of me, and I feel his hot cum as he finishes in massive twitching thrusts.

“Fuck,” he says when I release my jaw. “Good fucking girl.” He pops his thumb from my mouth, and I collapse back onto the bed, licking blood from my lips.

He laughs crazily and drags me up against him.

“Too hard?” I ask, grinning like a lazy cat napping in a beam of sunlight.

“Try to bite it fucking off next time,” he snarls, nuzzling into my hair and kissing me.

I smile like an idiot, half from the incredible sex, and half just from the way he always holds me tight when we’re finished.

“Can I ask you something?” I turn to push my face against his chest and breathe his salty, musky smell. Like copper and rose petals.

“Anything. You know that.”

“I want to see your rooms. Will you show them to me?”

He seems surprised and brushes my hair back. I look up at him, nervous excitement tickling my stomach. I like that he’s smiling.

“What made you think of that?”

“I guess I’ve been feeling bolder lately, and I just want to know you better. I figured this is a good way to start.”

“Baby, you are welcome in my suite whenever you damn well please. You never have to knock.”

That surprises me. He seems like a private man. There are guards and staff that work in the house, but none of them have a personal relationship with him. Tigran keeps a tight separation between work and his normal life.

“Are you sure?” I ask, kissing his chest. “I don’t want you to just say that.”

“I’m very sure. I know your boundaries, and I’ll always respect them, but mine are different. My rooms aren’t off-limits to you.”

I shuffle away from him and sit up on an elbow. My butt hurts from the spanking, and I rub it gently as I climb out of bed. “You really went for it tonight,” I mutter, yanking on my underwear.

“If you’re looking for an apology, it’s not going to happen,” he says, stretching with a sigh. “And if you keep digging for one, I’ll show you what a needy girl gets instead.”

“Don’t distract me.” Once I’m dressed, I march over to his door, feeling a strange sense of purpose.

Back home, I stuck to my little nook in the house. I ventured out sometimes, but mostly I stuck to what was comfortable, and never in a million years did I go into anyone else’s space.

Turning the doorknob and stepping across the threshold is a huge deal for me.

This is a strange man’s area. He’s my husband, and we’re sleeping together, but still. This is dangerous. Everything I’ve done in my life has been about avoiding this exact scenario.

In here, I don’t have any power.

I can wrap myself in the illusion of safety when I stick to my own rooms. I can tell myself that I’m in control.

But in Tigran’s suite, he’s the one in charge.

“You’re okay,” he says from behind me. He’s dressed again in loose black joggers and a white t-shirt. “Take your time.”

I force myself deeper down the hall. He stays with me, but at a little distance, like he’s trying to be respectful. I wiggle a hand behind me, reaching for him, and he closes the gap between us.

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