"In my apartment," he admitted after a moment's silence, "after I made you come six times back to back and you passed out cold. You already had bruises and scrapes all over that gorgeous skin; one extra mark went totally unnoticed." A deep shudder ran though me at the dark, possessiveness in his tone. In his eyes. He wasn't sorry at all. And I was weirdly more turned on than furious about it.
