"White lines, pretty baby, tattoos. Don't know what they mean, they're special just for you."
oOo
It was hard at first, adapting to Bellatrix. I was used to dominating and manipulating, ripping women down before my eyes. But Bellatrix wasn't down for that.
She was ruthless. She was a killer. She pinned me to the bed with a strength no ordinary woman could possess, but Bellatrix was no ordinary woman. She raked her pointed, shiny black nails down my broad chest, hissing as she did so. I groaned, blood rising to the new slices she had opened in my skin. She reached down to my pants, ripped the fly clean open and grabbed me, maybe a little too harshly, down there. I didn't protest. I moaned into the night, throwing my head back. She bit my neck, and rode my dick. She screamed my name into the night.
"Fenrir!"
In the morning she rose, dressed silently in front of me. Her chosen attire was always of the blackest black. She shook her head, her curly black hair cascading down her back, and smirked as she left me, battered and bruised. She disappeared from my hotel room as quickly as she had arrived; leaving me shocked, as always, that a woman could destroy me, Fenrir Greyback so easily.
oOo