ELLA
“I want you to hurt me,” I breathed, pressing my lips against his jaw.
I hated vanilla s*x.
I wanted to be ruined.
And by the way his eyes darkened, I knew he did too.
“Be careful what you ask for, piccolo inferno,” he growled, his hand tangling in my hair before yanking my head back to expose my throat.
Then his mouth was on me, biting, not kissing. Marking, not loving.
He dragged his teeth down my neck, each scrape a threat, each bruise a promise.
“This what you want?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous. “To be manhandled? Used? Broken open until you can’t even remember what day it is?”
I didn’t answer.
I moaned.
He slammed me back against the wall, one hand pinning both wrists above my head while the other trailed down my stomach, slow and cruel.
“You think I don’t
