I try to stop the pleasure gathering force inside me, try to hold it back.

But as he angles his hips up and slams into me like he’s trying to fucking break me, my body wins the battle against my will.

White flashes in front of my eyes as a warning, then I’m clamping down on him as everything built up inside me rushes out of me in a gush.

“Shit… shit… shit…” Gabriel grunts, his rhythm jerking out of beat for a second.

Then he begins pound into me with a new brutal determination.

He’s thrusts into me so hard, so fast and furious, it’s not until he lets out a deafening roar that I realize he’s pumping me full of warmth.

So much warmth.

My ears ring as another of explosion of pleasure rips through me, and it’s not until I begin to float back down from the heavens that I realize what he roared.

Until death do us part.

With one last warm pulse of his cock, Gabriel stills.

Panting, I stare at him in disbelief. Did that really just happen? It couldn’t have…

As if he can sense all the shit going on in my head, his voice breaks through the sound of my panting, coming out as a raw growl. “I mean it. Until death do us part, Meghan. The only way you’re going to get rid of me is by killing me.”

His cock suddenly twitches inside me and then he slowly rolls his hips.

I gasp, my oversensitive nerves screaming in protest.

He grins and begins to roll his hips deeper.

I swear he hasn’t gone soft at all. No, he’s just as hard as when he started.

“And if you want to go that route, I suggest skipping the guns and knives…”

“Oh yeah?” I groan back, somehow pushing the words out as I struggle against the fire he’s trying stoke to life inside me. “How do you suggest I kill you then?”

Eyes lighting up, his grin stretches wider. “I suggest trying to fuck me to death…”



Pre-dawn light filters though the curtains directly on my closed eyes. I’ve been lying here awake for the past half hour, trying to determine exactly where my place is right now in the world. I’ve gotten married, tortured and killed men, and been released from prison in less than forty-eight hours.

It’s been one hell of a week so far.

Opening my eyes and looking at Meghan, my body feels that now familiar ache of desire and longing. We fucked in the shower, then again in the bed before we both collapsed well after the clock showed midnight. I’m not tired though, I’m awake and alive. I can feel the tiny cells in my body coming to life for the first time in a decade.

I was dead in prison, I can’t deny that to myself. I was dead and mentally ready for the end. I’ve questioned how much longer I would have been able to hold out before I attacked the guards so badly they would have had no choice but to end my life sentence. I wouldn’t have killed myself directly, nah, that shits for the birds. No, I would have gone down doing what I do best.

Causing destruction.

Now all that shit’s out the fucking window.

Meghan’s curled up next to me in a tiny little ball. She went to sleep with an arm draped across my chest, but when I woke this morning she was turned the opposite way, her ass pressed hard against my hip. I’ve been in those clingy fucking relationships where the girl has to be attached at the hip in bed.

Fuck that noise.

We need to be fucking comfortable. I don’t have a fucking worry in the world about us not being attached. I married her and flat-out claimed her on our wedding night. Ain’t nothing else going to break that apart.

Fuck, even her trying to kill me didn’t stop my ass from claiming her.

My hand slides over the gouge she made in my chest, right above the fucking heart. She definitely broke the skin last night. And I loved the fuck out of that shit. I want a woman who’s got that fucking killer instinct. I’m not into those fucking shrinking violets, or whatever the fuck they’re called.

A small groan comes from Meghan as she slowly rolls to her back. “When did I get into a fucking car wreck?”

Rolling to my side, I look at her delicate facial features scrunched up into a grimace.

“Fuck, you don’t look so good, you alright?” I ask.

“Welcome to the world of morning-after, asshole,” she whines as she rubs the palms of her hands against her eyes. “You should never marry someone if you don’t know what they look like in the morning.”

“I didn’t mean in the looks department,” I say with a chuckle.

My fingers trail lightly over her chin as I lean over to kiss her temple.

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