There's something so primal about waking up to the scent of my husband still lingering on my skin. The way his hands gripped my hips last night, claiming every inch of me, left me breathless and aching for more. I love how he fucks me like I'm his—because I am. His cock, his cum, his marks on my body—every single thing about him owns me. And I wouldn't have it any other way. Loyalty isn't just a word; it's the fire in my veins when I see the way other women look at him. Touch him, and you'll learn just how sharp my claws can be.