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That’s who she is—somewhere along the way, she’s become the light to my darkness, light I don’t deserve, but I don’t fucking care anymore.

Hauling her up, I grip her thighs and slam her against the door. Fists hit my chest and back as anger and lust roll off her tiny frame in waves. My skin burns, every inch of me on fire, and I kiss her and kiss her, my body taking her punches, her scratches, my mouth swallowing her cries and moans.

“No. You can’t do this to me, you can’t—” she whimpers and I pull away because I might be halfway to deranged, but I won’t force myself on a woman. But she grabs my hair and seals her mouth over mine again.

Lava surges through my veins as we tear at each other. I suck those luscious lips into my mouth, needing to get any part of her inside me.

She cares about me. Too much. That’s why she’s fleeing. She didn’t escape after seeing my scars or glimpsing my monsters.

She sees me and still cares. And she’s mad at herself because of it.

I bite her plump bottom lip and she flinches, then returns the favor with a sharp nip of her teeth. Pain scores through me and I taste it.

The warm, salty metallic liquid on my tongue.

Blood. She’s drawn blood. My Olive’s sharp claws.

I fucking love it.

The thought throws me into a frenzy and I plunder her mouth with my tongue, fighting, dancing, mating with hers as I grind the throbbing shaft between my legs against her pussy.

“Oh my God, yes,” she moans, her head dropping back, hitting the door and baring her neck.

Like a monster, I zero in on the fluttering pulse, needing to chase it, to bite it, to mark it as mine.

We’re violence and chaos, thunder and lightning. Exhilaration and destruction.

I drag my lips over her cheeks, her nose, her jaw, my teeth scoring the slender column of her neck. Then I reach my target—that rapid fluttering in her throat.

Wrapping my lips over it, I suck.Hard.

She cries out, her sensuous body arching back, her curvy tits thrusted at my face.

Our bodies move in unison as I pin her tightly against the door. There are too many clothes between us. Too many layers. It’s too hot. Too wet. Too stifling.

I’m on fire.

I grab her heaving breast and pinch her hard nipple poking through her shirt. She trembles, her hips gyrating in a tormenting rhythm, moving that delectable pussy over my aching shaft. I can feel her heat through my pants.

“Fuck yes, Olive. Fuck my cock. Grind that pussy. Feel how hard I am for you.” I draw her fluttering pulse into my mouth again, laving, sucking, then I bite it.

Olivia screams, her muscles tensing. I’m so hard I’m leaking all over the place.

“Shit. You like your pleasure with pain, huh? Just like me.” I nibble and suck, my wildcat thrashing in my arms. “You need me, don’t you? Desperate for my cock. Well, come get it. It’s all yours.”

She shakes, her hips moving up and down, up and down, each slide hitting my cock perfectly, my leaking tip digging, dipping slightly into her pants-covered, tight, wet notch before dragging up to her clit.

“Yes, oh my God, yes,” she cries, her sweet voice hoarse. So that’s how she sounds like—she’s a screamer, my Olive will be a screamer.

My balls draw up and a scorching burn begins at the base of my spine, ricocheting through my body, the pinpricks of pleasure gathering, sharpening, distilling into a distinct beam. Pleasure moves up my shaft, and blinding light appears behind my eyelids.

“Come on my cock. I want to feel you explode. You’re a good girl, right? Bemy good girl.”

She freezes, her fingernails digging into my back.

Our panting breaths reverberate in the room and suddenly, she goes limp in my arms.

“What am I doing?” she rasps.Horror. That’s what I’m hearing in her voice.