The door to my room bursts open, and the Spinner who’s been working on my makeup jumps and almost pokes me in the eye with a mascara wand.

“Out!” Adam’s bellow spurs the Spinner into action. She scurries out the door, and he slams it behind her.

“What are you—”

He bowls me over, pressing his mouth to mine with an insistence that scares me. His tongue lashes mine as he scoots me up on the bed, his elbow sending the Spinner’s makeup palette crashing to the floor.

I can smell the outside on him, feel the chill in the fibers of his clothes as they press against my naked body. He settles between my thighs and focuses on the complete domination of my mouth. My shock turns to something more liquid as he destroys me with each wicked stroke of his tongue.

He pulls away and bites my neck, and I gasp in air. Slipping a hand beneath me, he squeezes my ass hard enough to hurt, and pulls me against his thick erection. A shudder courses through me at the rough contact, and I tangle my fingers in his hair.

Working his way to my breasts, he nips at me, then takes my nipple into his mouth, sucking the stiff peak until I’m writhing beneath him. But he doesn’t stop grinding me against his cock, my body open and wanting despite everything. Adam has this power over me, and I’m not sure I mind anymore. I pull his hair, and he groans, switching to my other nipple and biting down.

I should stop him, ask him what’s going on, tell him to fuck off for turning me in to the Rectory. But none of that rises past my lips. Instead, “I need you,” falls out on a heavy breath.

“Fuck.” He kisses down my stomach, his warm breaths sending goosebumps racing across my skin.

He doesn’t wait, doesn’t tease, just dives in, his tongue stroking my entrance, then moving up to my clit. I jerk, but his hands come down on my hips, holding me in place as he feasts on me. I struggle and surge, chasing every ounce of pleasure he offers. He backs off for a moment, and I bite my lip. When he slaps my pussy, I jerk and pull his hair, but he’s already fastened his mouth to the burn caused by his rough palm, his tongue soothing the ache and infusing it with desire.

Another slap has me crying out, then he hits me again and again, my swollen clit throbbing with each pop from his fingers.

I look down and catch his gaze. The lust in his eyes almost shatters me, and when he hits me again, I feel my orgasm racing toward me, seizing every muscle and demanding every bit of energy. I gasp, and he presses his lips to my clit, sucking and biting down. Then he presses two fingers inside me, massaging the place he’s already marked as his.

I come on a silent scream, my breath caught in my throat, my thighs wide, my body frozen and then melting in a surge of heat. Wave after wave crashes down on me, drowning me in a bliss that I’ve only ever felt with Adam. He doesn’t stop licking, his fingers pumping as my walls clamp down around him. His groan vibrates through me, and I arch my back, wringing every last bit of pleasure from his mouth. When the waves lessen, I relax into the bed, my body sated and my mind adrift.

With a rough yank, he pulls me onto my stomach. I can’t protest. I’m boneless, weightless. His palms spread my cheeks, and when his tongue presses against my asshole, awareness races back to me.

“Adam—” I can barely get the word out. He slips his fingers into me again, massaging me with my own wetness. Then he pulls it to my ass, rubbing around my hole, then pressing one finger inside.

I moan, and he yanks my hips up. He keeps rubbing my slick hole, then squeezes his finger deeper. This is nothing like the violation of the butt plugs. His touch sends heat racing through me and pooling in my stomach. My aching muscles begin to tense again, everything drawing tighter and tighter. When I hear his zipper, I turn and look at him. He’s shirtless, every muscle in his body drawn taut.

His eyes are shadowy pools of need. “I hope you’re ready, little lamb.”

I swallow hard. “I don’t know.”

“I do.” He pushes his cock head against me, and I lean forward. Grabbing a handful of my hair, he pulls me back. “Don’t move.”

The pressure grows, and I bite my lip as his head slips inside.

“Ah fuck.” He pushes harder, and I yelp from the pain.

“You have to take it, little lamb. I want you to feel all of me.” He leans over me and presses his forehead to my back. “I own every fucking piece of you, little lamb. Your ass is mine.” He pushes farther in, and I clutch the bedspread.

He reaches around, his fingers brushing my stomach, and starts stroking my clit. I curl my toes as he draws my focus to the swipes and dips of his fingertips. When he’s pushed fully inside me, pain wars with arousal.

“So tight. Fuck.” He bites my back, an animal keeping its mate in place. My body quivers under his possession, each of us slick with sweat.

His fingers don’t stop their dizzying tease of my clit, and he doesn’t let up as he pulls out and sits back on his knees. He spits, and I look back at him, his gaze on my ass as he pushes inside again. “Look at you.” He groans. “Just fucking look at you, taking every inch in your sweet virgin ass.”

I let my head drop onto my pillow, my ass in the air as he starts a slow fuck, each plunge inside verging on pain but hovering on pleasure. He slips his fingers inside me again. “Goddamn.” Pulsing forward, he fills every bit of me with him. His cock, his fingers, his voice in my ear, his dark heart beating with mine.

I push back against him, and he grabs my ass. “That’s it.” With a slap that resounds through the room, he pushes inside me faster. I want the punishment, need to feel him deep. He grips my shoulder and pulls me up to him, his chest to my back.

He tugs my hair until I crane my neck around and he kisses me hard while thrusting inside me. Everything is rough—our kiss, his fucking, and his hands roving my body. He slaps my breast, then grips it hard. I moan into his mouth, my legs still wide as he brings his fingers back to my clit. Tiny explosions burst through my body as he pinches my nipple and strokes me, his cock embedded deep inside me, and touching secret places with each hard thrust.

We are joined, my hands up behind his neck, our bodies moving and grinding as arousal blots out everything except our animal need for each other.

His fingers move faster, pushing me to the brink. I open my mouth as my body seizes again. I moan low and long into his mouth as my orgasm crashes down like a deluge. He shoves me down onto the bed, and with a hard grunt, pulls out. I’m lost in my pleasure as hot jets of come lash across my ass, and his groan rattles to the very core of my soul.

My legs give out, and I ease down to the bed, lying flat on my stomach and trying to catch my breath. He lands on his side next to me, his breath ragged as he brushes the hair away from my face, the strands wet with sweat.

I can’t speak, only meet his gaze. Something passes between us. A silent communion of our souls. I can’t say it’s forgiveness, because I’m not ready for that yet, not so soon after the Rectory. But it’s the acknowledgement of our bond—the one that began the night of the bonfire, and the one that was cast in iron the night he took my virginity.

He strokes my cheek softly with his thumb. The fire is momentarily doused. I smile at his gentle touch. His eyes widen a little. Is he surprised?

“I know I hurt you.” His voice is like shards of stone, and I don’t know if he’s talking about turning me in to the Rectory or what just happened between us.

Either way, the answer is the same. “Yes.”

He strokes a hand down my back. “I like hurting you, little lamb.”

I should be repulsed. Instead, a flicker of heat fires inside me. “I know.”

“I have to go.” He pulls back and, for the first time since he barreled into my room, casts a glance at the camera.

“I’m pretty sure the Spinner is going to lose her shit when she sees—” I gesture toward my face before dropping my too-tired arm back to the bed.

He rises and zips up his pants, then snatches his shirt from the floor. “You don’t need any of that shit.”

I smile, my lips swollen from his rough kisses. “Did you just compliment me?”

He smirks and runs a hand through his hair. “Yes, and I’ll do it a second time. I’m going to take that perfect, tight ass again the first chance I get. So be ready.” He walks into the bathroom, then returns with a warm washcloth. “I hate to do this.” He swipes at my ass, cleaning me, his voice barely a whisper. “You should always have some of me in you, on you, fucking everywhere.” He bites my shoulder, then rises. “Clean the rest of it up yourself,” he says loud enough for any listening device to hear and tosses the wadded washcloth on the floor with a smirk.

Whatever storm raged inside him is quiet now. His easy confidence is back, the usual darkness, the quiet air of control. I did that. Am I the music that can calm the beast?

Without a goodbye, he strides from the room. A few gruff words in the hall sends my Spinner rushing back inside. I sit up, and her gaze travels over the love bites on my neck and my breasts. She tsks and kneels, collecting the bits of the makeup kit.

I stare at the door long after he’s gone, wondering about the tempest that blew him to my bed.

Will I ever know what makes him tick?