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“You’re mine,” Bowen lowers his voice, “my girlfriend, my lover, my partner, whatever iteration of possession you prefer, legal or not. You told me, from your own mouth, that you’re mine,” he reaches up to hold the side of my face, “and I’m telling you now, it doesn’t matter if I’m gone for one minute or one year, I’ll always come back to you. Because I want you, I’ve chosen you, and,” he lowers his voice to a whisper, “I get what I fucking want.”
“If you’re good, I’ll mark you as mine…then I’ll bind your hands, so you won’t run when I start telling scary stories.”
“Oh, Honeybee,” his words drip with condescension, “I’m going to be a lot of things to you, but a friend isn’t one of them.”
“I have to tell you something, Brett,” his eyes darken and suddenly he’s like a predator sizing up its prey, “I care about you more than you’ll ever know,” then he leans closer, his eyes deep blue and sinister, “but for the rest of the night, I’m going to fuck you like I don’t.”
“It never ends because there’s nothing after you. I don’t get bored because I’m consumed by you and I’ll always need to chase you. You are, in the most concrete and unequivocal sense—” he wraps my curls around his fist and gently brings my forehead to his, “my only.”
Because now that I have her, I’ll set this entire world on fire before I ever leave her again.
