That should deal with Jeremy.

Gemma breaks up with Jeremy. She doesn't tell you the details, and you don't care. All that matters is she's yours now, and yours alone. In hindsight, you should've known that a hot piece of ass like Gemma would be pursued. You were just stupid enough to think that she only had eyes for you. But then again, she was too stupid to realize what you were capable of.

From that day on, Gemma craves the sting of your marks on her skin, each bruise and scratch mapping the path of your hunger for her. Her body trembles in anticipation, not from fear, but from knowing she'll wear your violence like a second skin for days. The deeper the wound, the wetter she gets, the fresh aches in the following days a constant reminder of the raw, primal physicality of your fucking. She wears extra makeup to cover up the imprints on her face and body, which inevitably ends up smeared and ruined with every torrid bedroom encounter.

Weeks pass, and Gemma remains not just loyal to you, but owned by you, the marks on her body symbols of possession. You continue your affair, seeing each other constantly. In public, you act the perfect gentleman. In the bedroom, you are an animal unleashed. One day, you take a trip to the city, and in the midst of your wanderings you decide to pull her into an alleyway to have your way with her the only way you know how. As you drag her into the narrow street, past the dumpsters and fire escapes, you hear footsteps from behind you.

"Gemma?”

The voice is sharp, laced with anger. You turn to see her ex-boyfriend, Jeremy, standing at the mouth of the alley, his fists clenched, his eyes locked on the two of you.