She nods and shivers, pulling the covers up over her naked body. “Will you close the windows, please?”

I do as she asks, moving about her bedroom and closing the windows one by one. I finally crawl into her bed and lie next to her, pulling the comforter down gently. Taking the cloth, I rest it on her belly, making her jump.

“Are you sore?” I ask, moving the cloth lower.

She doesn’t say a word but spreads her legs for me and I wash her there, rubbing her gently with the cloth, wiping away the sticky come that still covers her.

A sigh escapes her. “That feels nice,” she whispers.

My dick twitches in response, though I tell myself to calm down.

I can’t help it, though. I want her. Always.

I refold the washcloth and wipe it across her breasts, trying to pick up any last traces of semen I left on her chest. Her nipples are hard and she flinches when I touch the one that has the bright red mark on it. I lean in, dropping a tender kiss on the distended flesh.

Another sigh escapes her, this one deeper, and I draw her nipple into my mouth, sucking her, circling it with my tongue. Her hands sink into my hair, holding me to her as I lavish my attention on her tender nipple. “What are you doing to me?” she says, her voice distant.

I know the question isn’t directed at me specifically. She’s confused. So am I. I came here tonight to savor her and destroy her all at once.

Instead, I’m the one who’s destroyed.

Pulling away from her, I study her pretty face, her sexy body. There are marks all over her normally unblemished flesh, all of them made by me. Bruises are already forming on her hips, her thighs. I should feel terrible. I did that to her.

But I don’t.

I roll her over so she’s lying on her stomach and I see the bruises on her ass, the red mark where I spanked her. I take the washcloth and wipe it across her cheeks, between her thighs. She spreads her legs, turning her head to the side so our gazes meet, and I stare at her, running my finger along her crack until I dip it in her pussy.

Her lids flutter closed, her lips part, as I continue to touch her there. Tracing her entrance with my index finger, teasing it, teasing her until she’s lifting up on her knees, offering herself to me.

“I shouldn’t,” I say, my voice full of agony even though I don’t mean it. I’m dying to fuck her again. “You’re sore.”

“Please,” she whispers. “I want it.”

“What do you want?” My voice firms and I discard the washcloth, leaving it on the edge of the mattress as I scoot closer to her. “My fingers or my cock?”

She shudders. “Your cock.”

I grab a condom and roll it on, then position myself behind her, my hands at her hips, my cock poised at her entrance. I enter her slowly, keeping my thrusts shallow so I don’t hurt her, but she pushes me by begging for it.

“Harder,” she demands, and I give her what she wants.

“Faster,” she cries, and I increase my pace.

“Deeper,” she whispers, and I can’t take it anymore. I need to look at her and really see her. I need the connection, and fucking Violet from behind feels cold.

Reminds me of how I used to fuck Pilar.

I pull out of her and turn her around so she’s facing me. She’s breathless and shaking, her skin damp. I never gave much cred to the missionary position before. I usually found it boring. But fucking Violet this way is … perfect. I can look into her eyes, see her responsive face, feel her as she wraps herself around me. I can shift down and kiss her tits, press my mouth to her neck, hold her close to me all while pumping my cock deep inside her.

It’s fucking perfect.

She comes quickly and so do I. She falls first, her body tightening around mine, a little “oh” falling from her lips, and I chase after her, pumping my hips until I burst, clinging to her tightly. Probably too tightly. I might be hurting her, but I don’t care.

And she never protests.

I withdraw from her body reluctantly, pulling the condom off and wrapping it in the washcloth before I toss them on the bedside table. She scolds me about warping the wood, asking if I’d throw it on the ground instead because she doesn’t want me to leave this bed yet. Neither do I. So I do what she asks.

It’s all so normal, so regular, so unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before. After fucking Pilar I always felt weird, especially when I still lived with her. Like I could never escape her, which I couldn’t. Fucking other women was so casual, so meaningless, I was running out the door the minute I got the condom off and in the trash.

Not with Violet, though. I want to comfort her and ensure she still needs me. I gather her in my arms and hold her close, noticing how perfectly her head fits in the crook of my shoulder. Her hair brushes against my face and I push it out of the way, dropping a chaste kiss on her forehead that makes her sigh and wiggle against me.

Wiggling doesn’t help my cock whatsoever, but I try to ignore it. I can’t fuck her again. Not after what I just did to her. She’s gotta be sore.

“Tell me about you,” she says quietly. “I want to know.”

I stiffen, my voice cautious when I speak. “It’s not pleasant.”

“I don’t care.”

“It’ll probably shock you.”

She props herself on one elbow and peers up at me. “I don’t think you can shock me after what just happened between us.”

I kiss her because I can’t resist and pull her back into my arms, her head on my chest. I need strength to get through this conversation. “My childhood was … rough. I practically grew up on the streets.”