DANIEL
Dirty. Pretty. Angel.
Three words that didn’t belong together, but fùck if they didn’t describe her perfectly now.
Ruined by me.
I owned every inch of her—body, mind, the spaces between her thoughts where fear lived. My back bore her nail scratches, perfect crescents dug deep enough to bleed.
My bottom lip was still swollen where she’d bitten me earlier today, hard enough that I’d tasted copper. Just like she’d done the first time I took her.
The sting radiated through my mouth with every breath.
I fùcking loved it.
I didn’t want it to ever fade. I wanted the pain to linger, I wanted to feel her mark on me the way she felt mine on her.
The thought was both thrilling and terrifying, I was always the one who gave pain—breaking bones, splitting skin, making grown men weep.
