Page 217 of Sapphire Scars

Nothing else existed.

Just her scalding, sopping heat.

Her body milked mine as I impaled her, forcing my way in as a vicious orgasm tore through her, making her entire body seize.

God, she was beautiful.

So, so fucking beautiful.

The metallic sharpness of her blood on my tongue. The smell of her need on my skin. The slipperiness of her sweat and welts on her back and the sapphire scars—

Fuck, the scars.

I roared as she fisted me, rhythmical clenches as she came.

Her head tipped back as she surrendered entirely to me. Her body completely mine to use and abuse and worship.

Everything about her burned.

Everything inside me answered.

I fucked her.

Harder, faster, deeper than I’d ever taken anyone.

I willingly tried to hurt her.

I thrust and pumped, forcing her to feel every ridge and rock.

My head clouded with memories of the whip. My past tangled with my present. I felt sick and ecstatic. Lost and found.

My spine rolled as I fed her everything. Stabbing again and again, going out of my fucking mind as she kept coming, her whimpers getting louder, her back arching for more and more and more.

I gave her more.

Fuck, I gave her everything.

I jack-knifed and pounded, and the longer I took her, the deeper my mind fell.

We burned.

Not just our bodies.

But our spirits too.

We writhed together like demonic creatures.

Our hearts smoked and minds melded.

She screamed as I hit a thick, tight part of her.

She shuddered and gasped.

I kept fucking her. Over and over, driving her straight into hell.

Killing her with pleasure. Killing myself with everything I’d tried to forget and everything I didn’t want to be.

I hated that this felt so good.

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