Page 137 of Intense
She will never comprehend the importance of that. The fact I’m going to fuck her while her hands are free. That this is me giving her power over me.
Something I’ve never, ever, given away willingly before.
“You earned this,” I rasp, lining myself up behind her.
She cries out as I slam into her, slick and hot and desperate. I grip her hair in one hand, the blood-slicked blade in the other. My teeth find her shoulder, biting down as I fuck her deep and slow.
She clenches hard around me.
Her body begs as her screams grow louder.
“Come apart for me,” I whisper, pressing the blade flat against her spine. “Bleed and break for your husband.”
And she does.
She shatters around me, crying out my name like it’s salvation.
I follow her, spilling inside her with a roar. The sight before me, the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen—my blood and hers, on her thighs, on my chest.
A fucking masterpiece.
She collapses forward, chest heaving, wrists limp, skin marked and glowing.
I drop the blade and pull her into my arms.
And for a long moment, we just breathe. Entangled. Covered in our blood. I grip her throat again, bringing her face to mine.
“Everything you hoped and dreamed it would be fucking your boss?” I tease.
She scowls at me, so I squeeze harder.
Her fingers trail up my chest, over the scars, and I close my eyes.
“There is a reason I need pain in my life, Stephanie,” I tell her.
The most honest I’ve ever been with anyone since it happened. I know it’s not much. It’s not a revelation.
But for me, it is.
It’s like she understands the weight of it as she continues to trace them.
“I understand.”
My heart stops.
“I really, really fucking hope you don’t,” I tell her.
She gives me a sad smile.
“I guess we will figure that one out.”
If someone has hurt her, I will hunt them down, each and every one, and slit their throats as they sleep.
I stroke her hair away from her face and press my nose against hers, and she smiles.
It’s fucked up. All of this.
But so are we. And I wouldn’t change a damn thing.
