Forbidden Affairs
She was wet, always wet for him now, the betrayal of her body complete.
He fucked her like punishment, hips bruising, one hand fisted in her hair, the other gripping her throat just tight enough to make her gasp. She wrapped her legs around him, met every thrust, bit his shoulder until she tasted blood. The counter rocked; a jar of brushes crashed to the floor, scattering charcoal and graphite like shrapnel.
“Say it,” he growled against her neck. “Say you’re mine.”
“Never,” she hissed, and came anyway, clenching around him so hard he groaned. He followed seconds later, spilling deep, hips jerking as if he could brand her from the inside.