[MATURE CONTENT] Have you ever wondered, what happens when a blood thirsty psychopath wants to get a therapy session just for the sanity of a name which leaves a trail wherever he goes. And what happens when that therapist wants nothing more but for him to sink his dick deep inside her to quench that undying lust against the line of her career. ***** "Say my name flower." Hoisting her smooth legs on his waist violently thrusting into her pussy as she bites her lips holding down the huge ball of moans just to taunt the green eyed Russian. Her client. "Never." Saying affirmative, Rosie swears in mockery not understanding the more she dares the psycho, the more hungry he gets for her. With that, a devilish grin crosses his face looking down at her lying on the table squirming hard obviously holding herself back from giving the tattooed man thrusting hard, deep, fast and so fucking good her brains melted, lost in the expertise of him inside of her. But no, she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of her loving every thrust he gives her sopping wet pussy until he accepts he needs her just as much as she needs this psycho. Softly, he whispers sucking her earlobe that has her toe curling and her pussy dripping. "By the end of the day I will have you moaning, begging and screaming my name flower, because you are mine. Fucking mine." **** Mature content Violence Mature romance 18+ IF YOU ARE NOT A FAN OF CONTROLLING MEN AND A SEMI-SUBMISSIVE FEMALE LEAD, PLEASE DO NOT READ. I REPEAT, DO NOT READ WITH INTENTIONS TO BRING HATEFUL COMMENTS BECAUSE YOU DO NOT LIKE IT. THANKS.

"I want to defile you, destroy you, corrupt you in the most sinfully beautiful way. Break you until you're completely mine." "And then?" "Then I'll piece you back together, of course." He took another step in her direction, closing the distance between them. "Love can be holy." He said but the look in his eyes promised anything but. "It can be kind and gentle. It can be the flutter inside your chest when you feel someone touch you, the blush staining your cheeks when someone brushes his knuckles over them." To prove his point further, he took his knuckles and brushed them over her sharp jawline, all the way to her lightly dusted cheeks and sharp cheekbones. "However, love can also be vile. Dark and all-consuming. The kind of love that makes you want to fall to your knees and let it destroy you." He let his palm rest on her soft skin and felt the warmth she provided so carelessly travel to him. "That's all I can offer you." Nathaniel Russ is a man devoid of passion. Cold, stern, a tragedy with skin. A wreckage just seconds before the crash. A writer. He spends countless hours teaching philosophy at the local university, waiting for something to make the words crawl out of him with the same vigorous appetite they once did. And he finds it, at the most unexpected moment. Guinevere Westbrook is a woman haunted by the sins of her past. And she just happens to be the muse he had been waiting for, even though she refuses to accept it. So, he orchestrates a game meant for two. A game. That's all it was. Until it wasn't. Adult themes, proceed with caution. All images belong to their respective owners. Source: Pinterest.