He'd almost laughed, delighted, when she yelped the first time, and danced with her a bit, holding on. It was some kind of malice, awakened by her distress. He'd not felt it before, but he liked it. Some of the girls who shared his powder-lined stupors didn't mind if he hurt them. He'd gotten the taste for that in the dens that considered his money enough. He let her see some of that deviant now, but most of it wasn't an act, anymore, it was just real shards sticking up from his facade.<br/><br/>His eye were darker still when she tried her strength at his shoulders. A small smile on the lips that would converse with her all night. Like her fight was there to entice him. He felt pangs of anger and want mix in the chest she assaulted so meekly next. She could have become livid, she might have been able to disturb his balance if she tossed herself. She was still treating him like a person, when he was something else. Roan didn't feel validated by her fear. It wasn't enough.<br/><br/>He rewarded his name off her lips with burying her into the sheets. She looked in awe for a moment, and he was suddenly sure it was because of his scent billowing up from the mattress. How flattering. But it was too late to appeal to his ego. He though her breasts were made to be framed by fabric of her torn clothes. She looked like a gift to marauders. He was already painfully appreciative of her image. The designs on her panties, revealed, was almost too much for him.<br/><br/>He'd sighed when he slapped her, and she took it beautifully with the turn of her face. She was a buffet of enticing reactions, and while part of him tried to reel himself in from enjoying it, most of him was famished to see her unravel from the gathered, ghost like elegance she usually had. It was a dark pastime, but it gave him such satisfaction. Roan watched her cry with her tits out, and it was the epitome of what he wanted.<br/><br/>He thought she'd learned, and there was a conversation between his raging, misunderstood creature, and the man that wanted to protect her. But she hadn't seen him. "You never calmed me, Iris." and in that moment he knew it was true. He'd been a speck on his own sea of impulses before, his whims well fed and his veins well filled. It was her imposed goodness that had divided him like this. Roan didn't know why it felt right to hold his hand over her mouth first, but it gave him some bliss. She couldn't say forgiving words to him, or try to tell him he was better than a beast.<br/><br/>Her panties tore without leaving her hips. What a bad desire, to cup her there while his hand did the same to her upper lips. He didn't want to reduce her to this, but it was beautiful, controlling her body in both ways. His feelings about this were clear in the hill of his pants. He shook his head with his teeth clenched and looked down at her face as the hand stealing her voice slid to her throat instead. "Iris." he said, condolences in his voice as he laid over her to kiss her. But with the affection of his lips came a need. He didn't know what he needed from her, but he couldn't do without it.<br/><br/>The deeper the kiss grew, the heavier the squeeze became, both his hands joining in trying to hold on to her. He kept repeating her name, sometimes a gargle of wrath, and other times a vibrating longing. He stuck his tongue in a mouth he'd rendered breathless. Her teeth were such an alarming, awakening texture. "I... I'm not good, Iris. I just want you." he said to her gasping lips.