“I am going to f*** you. I am going to f*** you very hard, and it is going to hurt,” he says to me. We are lying in my bed staring at each other. Both of us are on edge, annoyed with the other, and it seems that the only reasonable way to work it out now is to f***.

I yank him on top of me and we kiss, hard and messy and passionately. He s**** my tongue into his mouth. I bite his lip a little longer and harder than I usually do. I dig my nails into his back, which I know he likes. They’re sharp, pointed at the tips. “I’m going to f*** you now,” he whispers.

I grab his hand and place it on my c***. He begins to move his fingers in slow circles the way he knows I like, then speeds it up. “Do you feel that?” I ask. “Do you feel how bad I want you?” He groans. “I want you to hurt me,” I say. “I want you to hurt me.”

Then his hands are in my hair and he’s pulling, pulling and yanking so tightly that if I were a girl with thinner, less-resilient hair, I’d be afraid. But I’m not, and I f****** love it. I arch my back underneath him and our mouths meet. He gets hold of my bottom lip and he bites it – hard. Really hard. I drag my nails even deeper up and down his back, trying to leave big red marks for him to wince over in the morning. “Make it hurt,” I say again. He loses control, then, and consumes my whole mouth with his. I can feel how hard he is, and even though we’ve already fucked twice today, I need it again.

By now I’m really wet, wanting him to shove inside me and make it hurt. I want it furiously. “Stand up,” he says. “Get up.” He yanks off my underwear and shoves me facedown on the bed, thrusts inside me, every inch of his big, hard d*** slipping in and out. He takes another yank of my hair and I yelp. He’s thrusting fast, hard, his breath coming in big ragged gasps. I tilt my a** up and bring my legs together so my p**** feels tighter – I know he likes that. “Grab my balls,” he instructs, and I do, reaching under and cupping them firmly in my palm. “Uh huh, baby, just like that.”

I bite at the comforter to keep from making too much noise; I’m sure my neighbors can hear the headboard whacking at the wall as we f***. Then he pushes me up on the bed and onto my stomach, f****** me like that until he flips me over. I wrap my legs around him and dig my nails into his back, pushing him further and deeper into me. He dips his head down and bites my neck, nipping at the tender skin.

“Get on top of me,” he commands, pulling out and laying down on his back. I slide down on his d*** and both of us gasp. He grabs my b****, big handfuls, squeezes them tight. In turn I run my nails up and down his thighs, making deep scratches so tomorrow he’ll feel them and think about me. “F*** me,” he says. “Ride that big d***, baby.” I pull his hair as I move on top of him, bite his lobe as I breathe and moan hotly in his ear the way I know he likes. He guides my hips up and down on his c***, slamming me up and down over and over and over until he can’t take it anymore. “Grab my a**,” I tell him, and he does, hard. I hope there will be marks there in the morning. “Harder, baby.”

“I’m gonna come,” he whispers. “Oh god, I’m gonna come.” I’ve got his balls in my hand again as I ride him.

“Look at me,” I say. “Look at me when you come. I want to watch you.” We lock eyes and as he comes I shove my mouth onto his, muffling his groans of pleasure. I feel his o***** ripple through me from my lips to my toes. We stay like that for a minute, his hands still holding my a**, until our breathing goes back to normal. In the morning, he’ll complain of phantom scratches on his arms and I’ll ache pleasantly all day, admiring the ring of bite marks hidden under my shirt. We’ll both feel a lot calmer.