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almost tell him what happened all those years ago, about Merlin, about the real reason I couldn’t marry him.
She submits because she feels safe that way, because she was born to submit, but I submit because I was born to suffer. Because I like suffering.
Once or twice there had been the insinuation that I wasn’t able to “make up my mind” about who I liked to fuck, but that was ridiculous. I knew exactly who I liked to fuck, and it was everybody.
He’s a sadist who thinks he’s kind, a narcissist who thinks he’s humble.
Colchester, Ash, my captain, staking my body with his cock like a conqueror, like a king.
Embry holds my husband’s heart in his hands and he doesn’t even know it. He’s too busy looking at the details of Ash’s face to see Ash’s expression, too busy being in love to see how loved he is.
I wanted to say yes. I wanted to tell Ash that loving him was like a scar, like a disease; it would always be there, I’d never be cured of it, and I didn’t want to be.
When I was twenty-nine, I met a princess. Her heart was broken, and so was mine. She had a raspberry dress; I had bright blue pants and deck shoes. She had tears and I had a hand to wipe them away. She had something she wanted to give me and I had something I wanted to take.
