“I knew you wouldn’t hurt me,” I tell him, knitting my fingers into his silky-soft hair. “Because I’m yours, aren’t I?” I gaze up into his dead eyes, and the longer he’s silent, fucking into me like a mindless thing, a worry niggles at my chest. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I’m just using him. Maybe I’m the one being driven by something primal and impulsive, the knot in my belly tightening with each thrust of his cock, clit throbbing for the friction of him against me. And then a ragged, slurred sound emerges from his throat. “Mine.”
