“He let his mouth linger on mine, neither possessively nor sweetly... like his mouth just belonged there on mine. And he was right. It did. It always had.”
“Mine,” he whispered against my mouth. He kissed me again. “You are mine.” In the shadows I stared into the eyes of a vampire, grazed his mouth with my finger. “No, you‟re mine.”
“He rips his mouth from mine as he growls, "Mine. Only mine. Only. Ever. Mine," still slamming into me, pounding me against the wall.”
“But it’s mine,” he whispered against my cheek and then his mouth moved to my ear. “All, fuckin’, mine.”
“he just clamps his lips over mine and sticks his tongue so far into my mouth I feel like I'm being examined by the ENT gynae”
“I opened my mouth to argue with him but he stopped me by pressing his lips to mine and I forgot my own name let alone whatever argument I had.”