A growl rumbles his chest. His free hand comes up, grabs a handful of my hair, and yanks my head back again. His dark eyes bore down on mine. And for once, I don’t shrink back. I forget about why I’m here and the ripped dress that lies on the marble floor. My heart pounds and my pussy throbs. I’m wet for him. I need to be reminded that I’m his. It’s pathetic and completely wrong, but that’s us. Nothing about our lives has ever been clear. Or morally right.
