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And now, here we are.

His hands go to my jeans.

He hesitates, probably waiting for me to change my mind. And maybe after that admission I should change my mind.

But I don’t.

I lift my pelvis, angling my body to better help him remove my pants.

Pestilence does so, reverently looking at each patch of exposed skin as it’s unveiled. He traces a finger along the edge of my ill-fitting panties.

“I wished to be convinced of human depravity …” he says under his breath, “but instead,this.”

His fingers hook around the underwear, and then he’s pulling it off of me. And with that, the last of the clothes between us is gone.

Moving agonizingly slow, Pestilence drapes himself over my skin. I almost sigh at the sensation of his weight and warmth against me. My hands come around his back, gliding over the thick bands of his muscles. I pull him closer to me, feeling the press of his cock trapped between us.

Pestilence the Conqueror hasn’t tasted conquest at its most carnal. Not until now.

He hooks an arm around one of my legs and lifts it up indecently. He glances down between us, and even though I’m certain he simply intended to see how our anatomy lined up, his gaze catches at my core, and there it stays.

Whatever he sees causes his cock to jerk.

I reach between us, and wrap my hand around it, pulling a groan from him.

“Sara, this is … beyond words.”

And we haven’t even gotten to the best part yet.

I guide him to my opening. For several agonizing seconds, he stays there, immobile, soaking up the moment.

“Please,” I finally say. My hands move to the small of his back and urge him on.

“Please,” he repeats, letting out a pained laugh. “I should deny you,but I cannot.”

His breaths are coming faster, his blue eyes piercing me even as his cock begins to push its way in.

I release a breath at the sensation of him filling me up. He feels …sublime.

Pestilence has only partially sheathed himself when he pauses, his forehead dropping to my shoulder.

He releases a shuddering breath, then lifts his head once more to stare at my face as he enters me, his expression one of rapture. His gaze continues to brighten until he’s fully seated inside of me.

“This is suffering,” he says. “Exquisite suffering.”

God is he right. This is that place where pain and pleasure meet.

I reach for him. My fingers brush his crown, which somehow managed to stay on his head this entire time. Gently, I set it aside.

He tracks my every movement but doesn’t protest.

Can’t believe he’s inside me.

If he was breathtaking before, now, this close to me, he’s almost unbearable to look at—like trying to stare down the sun.

Slowly he pulls out of me, then thrusts forward. A groan slips out of him. “Cannot unknow this sensation … surely it will haunt me for all my days.”

He starts out slow, savoring each stroke of his hips like I do good chocolate. But like good chocolate, the savoring gives way to indulgence. His pace picks up, and soon he’s not gently stroking me, but fucking me in a frenzy, his hands finding my hips and pulling me closer, closer.