“She will never know that tonight, she was mine.”

“But she was not made for any man, and she will never be all mine.”

“She was mine. For the sake of appearances, she was my wife, but she was mine anyway. She didn’t know it yet, but I did. It was wrong and it made no sense, but she belonged with me. No one else, not anyone else.”

“And she was mine, she was mine, the key was in my fist, my fist was in my pocket, she was mine.”

“SHE is neither pink nor pale, And she never will be all mine; She learned her hands in a fairy-tale, And her mouth on a valentine. She has more hair than she needs; In the sun ’tis a woe to me! And her voice is a string of colored beads, Or steps leading into the sea. She loves me all that she can, And her ways to my ways resign; But she was not made for any man, And she never will be all mine.”

“Sure she would want that again—tenderness compassion slow erotic lovemaking—but not tonight. Tonight she wanted to experience her transformation she wanted to test the limits of her new body to soar to new heights of pleasure. She wanted her Alpha male. And she wanted him now.”