“No one hurts you, but me,” he says definitively, as if it’s supposed to bring me some sort of comfort. He nuzzles his head against me again like he’s rubbing his scent on me, or my scent on him, before whispering into my ear, “But the pain I’ll bring upon you is the kind you’ll need. The kind your body begs for me to find deep inside that sweet little exterior. The kind your insides scream to release but are muffled with deceptions of sin.”
