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He stares at me like he’s never experienced anything so wonderul. “Sara, I am … I am in you. A part of you.”

I swallow thickly.

The idea that Pestilence can reach inside me and touch something deep and intimate—if only in the most physical sense—should bother me, but I am decidedlynotbothered.

In fact, everything about this feels painfullyright, as though this is where he’s always belonged.

I cup his cheek. “You are.”

I bite back a moan as his thick girth slides in and out of me, our bodies making slick sounds as they come together.

He leans his head against mine. “I’ve wanted to be this close to you,” he says. “Close enough to feel your heart beating against my skin.”

I press my hand to his chest, right over his own heart. Beneath my palm I feel it pounding away.

He closes his eyes at the sensation. When he opens them, they glint with so many emotions. “Never want to leave.”

I don’t want you to either.

I give him a soft smile. “You don’t have to yet.”

He marvels at me as I writhe beneath him. I clutch him tight, forcing each one of his strokes to go deeper as my core clenches around him.

Pestilence groans at the sensation, the deep sound heightening my pleasure.

I feel myself building, building …

“Oh my God,” I breathe.Meant to hold out longer. “Oh my God,oh my God.”

The horseman pauses, staring down at me with concern.

“Don’t—stop,” I plead.

He resumes with thrust after powerful thrust and—

Oh—my—God.

I cry out as my orgasm takes me suddenly. My back arches as it lashes through me, blinding me briefly.

Pestilence’s strokes deepen, until he’s slamming himself home. His eyebrows hike up, staring at me in glorious shock as he’s pulled towards his own climax.

I feel his cock thicken, and with a deep groan, he’s coming inside me. My body quakes at the sensation.

He stares down at me, entranced, as his strokes gradually slow. “That was …” He says a word that breathes along my skin, and it’s like God is in the room with us for a brief moment.

Angelic—whatever the word was, it was spoken in Angelic.

“What does that mean?” I ask, aware of how reluctant he’s been to share his native tongue with me.

Pestilence gives me a deep look. “Heavenly. That washeavenly.”

Chapter 39

Note to self: Pestilence doesn’t do casual sex.

Quick flings clearly aren’t a thing for him. Though, to be fair, sex in any of its forms really isn’t a thing for him. At least not until I fucking corrupted him. I can’t decide if that makes me feel particularly proud of myself, or a bit despicable.

I think, if I’m being truthful, I’m feeling a bit of both.