I groan at the sight when I see she's already glistening, still aching for me.Still mine.
 
 My fingers glide over her folds, circling her clit and teasing her dripping entrance. She gasps softly, and I pause, panicked for half a second.
 
 “Don’t stop,” she breathes.
 
 Breathing in relief, I continue, watching as her eyes fall closed and her hips lift, body writhing, needy for more.
 
 Give her more. Fill her greedy holes. Show her why she should be afraid of monsters.
 
 My eyes search the room quickly before landing on the perfect thing. She wants me to lose control, but she doesn’t understand what that means.
 
 Leaning over to the nightstand I grab the police baton I considered beating Myles with earlier.
 
 Myles’s nightstand is filled with weapons, but this one is long and smooth and the kindest thing my depraved head has suggested so far.
 
 This is the safest way I can give her more without breaking her.
 
 I’m certain Myles has cleaned this recently—in fact it looks brand new—but I wipe it over quickly anyway. I don’t want her getting a UTI.
 
 Dipping my fingers into her entrance, I find her soaking wet.Perfect.
 
 When I rub the rounded end of the baton slowly against her slick core she gasps at the cold metal, eyes popping open.
 
 My chest tightens like I’ve been caught red-handed. Her eyes lock on the baton in my hand, and she whimpers, her hips trembling.
 
 A deep growl rumbles through my chest, and I pinch her clit before plunging the tip of the baton into her pussy. She cries out, gripping the sheets as her voice tapers into a moan.
 
 It’s not thick enough to hurt her, but the sight of it slowly disappearing as I work it in and out is intoxicating. Her entrance grips it despite her arousal coating the shaft of the weapon.
 
 “Fuck, Ivy,” I growl. “You’re such a good girl. Look how well you’re taking it.”
 
 Her moans intensify and I push the baton deeper, circling her clit with my thumb.
 
 “Goddamn, your pussy is dripping for me, sweetheart. I wanna try something else inside you.” My mind swirls with ideas now that I’ve seen her reaction to this. The way her slick drips down the baton is enough to tell me she might be as fucked up as I am.
 
 “Maybe I want you inside me instead?” she murmursas she pulls me down again, kissing me until I’m dizzy.
 
 Her hands trail down my chest, muscles flexing involuntarily as her fingers run over my scars.
 
 When she starts unbuckling my belt, I know there’s no chance of holding myself back any longer.
 
 “You’re thinking too much, Zane,” she reprimands.
 
 Standing up, I shed my combat boots and pants, wanting as much skin contact with her as possible.
 
 I don’t miss the way her eyes widen when she sees my size.
 
 I warned her… it’s too late to back out now.
 
 Climbing back onto the bed, I help her take her shirt off. But she winces as she shifts, and I stop immediately. “What? Where?”
 
 “Just my back,” she says through a small breath. “It's okay. I’m fine.”
 
 Taking a shaky breath, I look over her dainty body. She’s gorgeous. But even with the fresh bruises, I’d still be worried about crushing her. I’m more than twice her size.
 
 “I’ll go slow, okay?” I promise, hanging onto the last shred of my control.
 
 Hovering my weight over her, I grip my cock and line myself up. Stroking over her folds a few times, I coat myself in her slick, groaning at the warmth before pressing into her entrance.