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“You’re mine. That’s the beginning and the end of the line that’s drawn. You cross it, you’re gonna know about it.” In one swift maneuver he spins me to face him. One arm still around my waist while the hand that was fisted in my hair, holds my face. “Do you have a problem with that?”

I should. Shouldn’t I?

I should be shoving him off me and screaming for the hills. Possibly getting a restraining order but?—

“Courtn—”

My mouth crashes to his as I yank down on his chains, bringing him to my level. I bite down on his chapped lip and suck it as hard as I can even my teeth, greedily eating up his groan. Relishing the burn of his fingers clawing into my jaw and my hip.

This is the only answer I have. The only answer I can give no matter what the voices in my head are screaming. What my fears are pounding into my bloodstream. All the alarm bells ringing in my ears.

Because I want this.

I want his obsession.

I crave his possession.

I need his fire.

His rage.

Him .

And this brutal, beautiful madness that only he gives me.

Auguste yanks me closer, chest to chest, heartbeat to heartbeat. Hands rough, tongue spearing into my mouth in a punishing kiss.

The best kind of ache quakes through me. A friendly reminder of what it feels like when Auguste is inside me. When he tears me apart from the inside out.

I don’t fight it when he rips away from me. Green stare burnished with promise and intent when he tugs my hair lifting my face to his. Watching me. Unnerving me. He’s going to fuck me up, and I gulp down every sigh of relief that the certainty brings me.

Pressing me forward, back to the kitchen island, his toes tread on the back of my heels, pulling my sneakers off.

The instant my palms hit the countertop, my legs spread before he verbally commands it. It’s all natural compulsion, necessity, and I let it take over me. Let him take over me as his hands fist in my leggings and yank them down my hips.

A heavy hand strokes up my back to my shoulder blades, and with one firm press, he pins me down on the cool granite.

The side of my face squashed to the hard surface as the first tears sting my eyes.

Because I know what’s coming. Already feel it throbbing in all the places that are still marked by him.

My thighs, my tits, my— “Fuck!”

The hard smack knocks all thought from my head. The sound ricochets in the half-lit darkness, locking up my whole body with the frisson of pain and heat and pleasure that sparks through me.

“You didn’t answer me,” he says, voice threadbare. “Do you have a problem with that boundary?”

I shake my head as best as I can with the weight of him holding me down.

“Use your goddamn words right now.”

“No,” I choke around the pounding of my heart in my throat. “No. Problem.”

“Good.” Auguste’s other hand palms my ass. His thumb teasing through my crease. Stopping just short of my pussy. “So you’ll take your punishment like my good little whore?”

Fuck , I don’t know what I’m signing up for anymore. I just know that I want to. I want everything he’ll give me. I want every part of him the way he has stolen every part of me.

“Y-y-yes…”

His reply cracks through the air .

His palm hits my ass so hard, I jolt farther up the counter with a guttural cry.

It’s his breathless whimper that hits the hardest. That sharp gasp that fades to a throaty hum undoes me.

Then he repeats again, and again. Until I’m arching into him, thighs slick, skin stinging with every reminder that I am his .

“Fuck with me however you want. But wear another man’s name and I will tear you apart until you remember who you belong to,” he pants through his ragged breaths. “Who do you belong to?”

“You,” I breathe.

“Whose dirty fucking slut are you?” He tugs at the tail of my thong, threading it through my soaked slit.

“Yours,” is the only reply I mewl back as the cotton rubs my needy clit.

Then his nails rake down my back and my eyes roll to the back of my head with the sensation. Every pore on my skin is crackling like a live wire in the rain as he takes himself out.

A whine drawls from my chest as his blunt, wet tip smears his need all over my skin.

“Whose cum are you hungry for?”

“Yours… please .”

Large hands grip my hips at the same time as his thumb hooks my thong to the side. “Want to feel who you belong to, Princess?”

“Yes…”

“Tell me whose name you wear.” His palms pry my ass cheeks apart as he spits down my crease and strokes his cock over my throbbing flesh.

“Yours. Your name,” I sob into the misted granite beneath me.

“And what’s my name?”

“Augu—fuck!” He slams into me.

No warning.

No mercy.

The sound of his groin slapping my ass echoes in the closed air.

“Say my name,” he demands.

“Aug—Au-Auguste,” it’s a breathless, choked moan.

“Again. All of it. Louder .”

“Auguste—”

“I said louder.”

“Auguste—” I hiss when he pulls out of me brusquely. “—Broussard.”

Fuck , my gut rams up into my ribs when he drives all the way into me, slamming my whole body forward. My teeth snap around my tongue muffling my cry.

“I’m going to fucking destroy you,” he growls, fingers curling deep into my hips “And you’re going to thank me with your goddamn screams.”

One hand wraps around my throat, pulling me upright as he fucks into me with savage abandon.

“Auguste,” I keep crying, louder and louder until it’s one hoarse continuous plea. “Auguste. Auguste. Auguste…”

His hand tightens around my throat, pushing me deeper into his chest. His other hand hitches my knee up onto the counter, opening me up for him at that delicious angle that hits every single perfect spot. Then his fingers slip between my legs.

“You’re going to come. And then I’m going to remind you who you gave yourself to. I’m going to own every single part of you. Every inch of your skin. Every goddamn hole.”

Holy shit. “Yes…”

One of my hands braces on the counter while the other closes around his on my throat, tightening his grip until I can’t breathe. Everything is hazy and I just feel .

His savage assault overwhelming, feeding my reckless need.

The relentless drive of his cock into my drenched pussy. The it hurts like heaven on fucking fire. And I am teetering.

Teetering on my toes. Teetering on the precipice of something I can never come back from.

The pounding in my veins compounds to an endless throb pushing and pulling and God, I can’t hold it off anymore. I can’t teeter.

Not with his voice in my ear. “You know what I want, Snow. Give it to me. Drench my fucking cock.”

Rough fingers work me harder and his dick shallowing, grinding into that one spot that turns me into a shaking, soaking mess.

And I shatter.

“Auguste…” I fall, sobbing his name, coming so hard I blackout against his chest .

His grip on my throat loosens just enough for me to gasp in air as wave after wave of pleasure ripples through me. My legs shake violently, threatening to give out completely, but he holds me through the spasms, his breath hot and harsh against my ear. His cock buried deep in my pussy .

"There she is," he murmurs, voice dropping to that dangerous velvet tone that makes my insides clench. "My good girl."

The praise washes over me like a drug, adrenaline spiking through my scalding bloodstream. My vision clears slowly, awareness returning in waves. I'm still half-sprawled across the counter, one leg hiked up, completely at his mercy when he reaches for the jar of coconut oil on the counter.

His words filter back to the forefront of my mind as he opens it and scoops a very generous mound with his fingers.

Every inch of your skin.

I shiver with the trail of the melting oil on my ass. It’s still pulsing from the spanking he gave me.

Every goddamn hole.

I choke on my ragged breaths when he drips the oil slowly down my crease. Auguste’s other hand hitches my leg higher up on the counter, spreading me wider while he lazily shallows his length in and out of my pussy and his thumb circles my asshole.

A jolt of fear cuts through my body, and I clench so hard he groans, pulling out of me.

“Breathe, Princess,” he says, voice deep and steady like he’s concentrating on every probing circle of his thumb slicking me up for him.

I’ve never done this. Never… but… “Oh my God…”

The tip of his finger presses inside me at the same time as his thumb rubs through my slit.

“Fuck, you’re tight…” Auguste marvels, working me open.

Slowly, he presses deeper with a teasing grind, making me writhe with each knuckle he sinks into me. And just as I’m growing accustomed to his finger, he adds another. Repeating the process. Over and over until I’m chasing each stroke. Pleading for more. For his cock.

“Auguste, please… please, fuck me.”

I’m actively begging him to tear me apart. To punish me. To ruin me. To hurt me.

It doesn’t feel one bit wrong. The scariest part of giving Auguste this physical part of me I’ve never shared with anyone is that it feels safe.

I feel safe. Wanted. Seen. Needed.

“That’s it, fuck my fingers… stretch your tight ass for me, Snow.” His voice is tighter than ever as his cock inches into my pussy. “The best fucking sight. Your pretty cunt taking cock and your ass choking my fingers.”

He keeps thrusting in and out of my holes. Slow. Easy. Working me up to that point where I can't take it anymore. I need him to let loose. To give in and fuck. Fuck me like he hates me. Like this is it. This is all we have. Like I’m going to break his heart when all is said and done.

His thick fingers pull out of my ass, and before I can whine about the emptiness, his blunt tip is there. Pressing, pushing, claiming… hard and sharp and… “Fuuuuuck!”

It hurts. So fucking deep, I feel him everywhere. I feel his possession from my curled toes, rolling up my spine all the way to the crackling roots of my hair.

“Yes, yes… you take me so fucking good,” he groans low.

The edges of his words slurring, like he’s losing his mind with every inch of his cock that grinds into me. Like the feel of owning all of me has him seconds from fully unraveling. I like that thought too much. So much that I jut my ass out, taking more of him—all of him—with a hiss.

“You feel that? You feel me?” Auguste pants against my ear with a hard slap to the side of my ass. “This is mine.” The words are punctuated with hard thrust and his hand twisting in my hair. “Every fucking inch of you is mine.”

He fucks me harder, deeper, pulling me down on his cock by my hair while his other hand palms my pussy. The heel of his palm grinding on my clit while his finger pumps in and out of me.

“You want my cum, Snow?”

“Yes,” I cry, with the tension coiled around my bones snapping tighter.

“Where?” With another hard yank, he brings my back to his chest. “Where do you want my cum?”

I cant my face up to his, licking the sweat beaded on his prickly jaw while his hips roll and grind into me. “I want you to come inside me… in my ass…”

“Such a good little slut.” He rewards me with a sharp bite to my lip and as I open my mouth for him, he spits on my tongue. It’s hot and fuck, it does something to me. To the way he’s fucking me, that I’m instantly there.

“Auguste,” is all that barrels out of my mouth as my entire body convulses, sucking him deeper as I clench around him. My orgasm tearing through every inch of me, eclipsing thought and reason, my whole existence as I dissolve into pure sensation.

"Fuck, yes," Auguste growls, his rhythm faltering as my body grips him. His hand leaves my pussy to wrap around my waist, holding me against him as his hips stutter. "Taking it so fucking good. "

His sweat slicked chest sliding against my back as he bends over me, his teeth biting down on my shoulder, marking me as he comes. Filling me with endless scorching spurts. His entire body shudders against mine, a guttural groan vibrating through his chest and into my bones.

We stay locked together, both trembling, his forehead pressed to my shoulder as our breathing gradually slows. Auguste’s arms bundle around me as he slowly pulls out of me.

When he turns me to face him, his lips tease the tip of my nose. Playful, warm…

“Whats my name, Princess?” he whispers along my cheek.

“Mine,” is the only word that exists.

He nods with a faint smile caressing my lips. “And what’s your name?”

“Yours.”

“Good girl,” is all he says before he licks into my mouth, his tongue swirling with mine in the slowest dance of my life.

It’s now that my heart decides to truly break. To truly accept what it has known from the very beginning—Auguste Broussard is it. He’s my person. And I don’t know how I’m ever meant to walk away from him after this.