I buried my face in the pillow to muffle my moans. “This is…” I could barely speak. “This is…”

“This is your G-spot.” He bit my earlobe from behind. “Nice to meet ya.”

I wanted to scream with both pain and pleasure, and I clenched against his fingers. He picked up the pace even more, screwing me with his fingers while grinding his cock against my ass. I loved it. Loved every filthy moment of it. The pain of his weight and fingers inside me was so much…

I gasped each time he slammed into me. I felt his lips traveling along my upper back, my neck, my hair, leaving bites and kisses.

“Tell me what I’m doing to you, or I’ll stop.”

“You’re driving me mad,” I groaned. This much was true. His hand was between my legs while he jerked off on my body, and I admitted it was hot. So hot I was beginning to feel dizzy. Lightheaded. Drunk. The Catholic guilt I had felt after he performed oral sex on me the other day evaporated. It was technically not a sin. We were married.

“What. Am. I. Doing. To you? Simple English, Red.”

“You’re fingering me,” I said, blushing hard. Damn, why was it so hard to say it out loud?

“That’s not fingering.”

“Okay, okay,” I panted when he momentarily stopped, his fingers still inside me. “You’re f*cking me with your fingers.”

He resumed thrusting, increasing the numbing ache and the crazy desire thrumming in my crotch. My body felt electrified, the bed beneath us pooled with my want for him, and after a few minutes of buildup, of so much pain and pleasure and everything in-between, I came apart for the first time in my life. There was no mistaking the feeling. It was hard. It crashed through me in waves of heat.

The tingling calmed, and my body went limp. His fingers stopped, and after I droopily crashed on the mattress, he pulled his hand from under me, sucked on his two fingers, and flipped me to my back.

I was his rag doll, for him to flip, spin, toss, finger, use, repeat. And that’s exactly what I craved. In bed, anyway.

“I wanted you since that night at Rouge Bis, you know.” His lips dove to my neck and he bit me hard, making my back arch with desire. He licked the spot, moving his finger down my spine and grinding against me. “Such a breath of fresh air. Messing around with me like I can’t break you in two.”

I moaned, returning a favor by pushing my hips in his direction.

He unbuckled his belt, unzipping his dress pants as he spread kisses all over my face and chest. God, I wanted more of him. Not just his body, just more. More feelings. More sex. More everything. I wanted him to be my real husband, and I was lying to him, myself and the world when I said that all I wanted was sex. This was just the tip of the iceberg. I was addicted.

“It’s going to hurt like a motherf*cker,” he warned.

“Of course it will.” I smiled into our kiss, my lips still glued to his. “Everything with you does.”

He yanked my underwear down and guided his cock to my entrance. We both watched through hooded eyes as he moved it up and down my slit. I was so ready for him after falling apart between his strong arms, coming so hard, so wet and in need, I barely had any second thoughts about it.

“I love this,” he whispered wildly, his mouth traveling down my body, his tongue swirling around my nipple. Everything about him was scorching hot, and I threw my head back, my eyes closed. “Love that I’m going to rock your world and ruin you for every other man in the world.”

When he entered me, I held my breath. It wasn’t just painful—it was torture. So bad, in fact, that tears stung my eyes. Troy was equipped with something resembling a semi-automatic weapon, and even though his cock was the first I had ever seen, I had a feeling it wasn’t a modest, fun-sized one. He moved inside me slowly, his eyes holding mine. Interest flickered in his gaze, and I tucked my head into his chest.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” I felt my face heating. He didn’t look turned on anymore. Just…alert. He was searching me, looking for something, making me feel even more naked than I already was.

“Breathe, baby,” he said seriously. “The pain will go away, but the pleasure will stay. I got you, Red.”

He thrust in and out, and I winced every time he did, digging my nails deeper into his back, knowing I’d leave marks. Because I wanted him to stop. Because I wanted him to continue. Because I never wanted to leave.

He kissed away a tear that slid down my cheek, and I wish he hadn’t, because my heart broke a little more when he showed me tenderness. I wanted the ruthless version of him, the one that didn’t offer me hope, that didn’t promise a happily-ever-after ending. Troy was the guy who not only broke your headboard, but also broke your heart. And I didn’t want false hope to occupy any more space in my mind than it already did.

He was pumping in and out of me, faster, stronger, deeper. Soon, I learned his rhythm, and our hips moved together like a sensual dance.

The pain will go away.

No, it wouldn’t.

The pleasure will stay.

“I want you to come in my arms again,” he said, but I knew it wouldn’t happen. Not when all I could feel was him ripping through me. He snaked one of his hands down between us and started rubbing my clit, applying pressure. I gasped a little when he flicked it up and down with his thumb.