My Darling Arrow (St. Mary’s Rebels, #1)

by Saffron A. Kent

It made my heart race that even at the age of fifteen, he was the man of the house.

All I know is that when I was falling in love with Arrow, he was falling in love with someone else. With my sister, Sarah.

OUCH!!

I’ve watched him, craved him, loved him in secret.

Perfection intimidates me. All the rules intimidate me.

Darling says he’s adored and loved.

“Very much. I would’ve loved to see you following the rules, being a good girl. Staying where you belong.”

“You never lose your temper, Arrow. That’s the first rule.

As do her lips. They’re poutier, much poutier. Like her mouth likes to show off, be the star of every fantasy. And her skin.

“Well, consider this your first and only warning. You’re not wearing it anymore.”

It feels like he’s advancing on me and arranging my tiny body as he likes with the metal railing digging into my ass.

He stares at each part of me like it belongs to him. Like he can stare at those favorite little spots of his whenever and for however long he wants.

That’s the thing about love. You can’t hurt the one you love, not deliberately. Not the way Sarah has done.

I’ll be that girl for you. The girl you come to, to fuck all your frustrations out. The girl who spreads her legs for you the moment she sees you’re jacked up and you need it.”

Because his happiness is my happiness.

Those girls don’t love him. I do. They don’t know how to take care of him. But I do.

But still, my whole body is buzzing with his violent reaction. My whole body is ablaze with his possessiveness, his raw domination over me.

His entire body catches fire when he replies, his voice and words bathed in violence. “That absolutely no one, no one at all, gets to touch what’s mine. Because I don’t share, remember? You don’t let anyone put their hands on you. You don’t dance with strange men. You don’t talk to them. You don’t look at them. You don’t think about them. Is that clear?”

Now,” he says, clenching his teeth, “I’m going to destroy your pussy. I’m going to fucking trash it and hurt her so good and in so many ways that you can’t even begin to imagine. So if you want to back out, this is your last chance.”

His eyes flare with possessiveness, with ownership, and his pumping graduates to pounding.

“And you’ll remember that. You’ll remember who this pussy belongs to,” he growls.

“Shh, don’t talk.” He slowly shakes his head. “I’ve had a shitty fucking week, okay? And then I come to you for relief and find you dancing with someone else. It’s a miracle that I haven’t lost my shit yet. So don’t say a word. Just let me fuck that pussy.”

“Because I want to fuck that womb too. I need to fuck that womb. I need everything you have. Every fucking thing, Salem. Everything you have belongs to me. It’s mine. All of it.”

Because your happiness is my happiness. When you smile, I smile. When you hurt, I hurt. So if you love her, then you should be with her.”

And I’m going to fucking crush every single person who stands in my way. And I’m going to do all of that because she’s the girl I’ll do anything for. She’s the girl I’ll be anything for. Do you understand? She’s my girl and I’m going to her.”

I swallow at the possessiveness in his tone, at the possessiveness in his eyes. Actually, it’s more than that. It’s more than possessiveness.