“That’s right. But I wasn’t just covered in your blood, was I? I was wearing another of your… perfumes.” Perfumes. He deliberated over the word. Luxuriated over it. The dark, suggestive way he said it left nothing to the imagination. He had no mercy, so there was little point in begging for it, but I had to try. “Don’t. Do not, Fisher. Please. Just…” “When you were grinding yourself all over my lap, you marked me up very efficiently,” he purred. A fire burned in my throat, causing my voice to crack. “I hate you.”
