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“I assume it’s obvious,” he says. He nips at me, and oh Jesus, he is so fucking dirty.Wheredid he learn to be this dirty?

His tongue comes out, and he tastes me.

I moan, my back arching off the bed.

“This is how you kill me,” I murmur.

He pulls away instantly. The moment he takes in my flushed cheeks and dazed look, his worried expression morphs into one of male satisfaction.

I’m pretty sure no one has given Pestilence anatomy lessons (aside from me), but he’s figured out pretty quick that my clit is the source of all goodness and wonder in the world.

The horseman returns to his ministrations, and his clever tongue has me bucking and writhing beneath him. His warm breath puffs against me as he laughs. Pestilence might’ve once been a newb at this, but the pupil is definitely surpassing the master in record time.

“Ughn,” I moan. “Ssss—stop. Too much. Stop.”

Fucker doesn’t stop.

He keeps going and going and—

I let out a cry, my hips rising off the bed, as sensation rips through me, blinding in its intensity.

Pestilence doesn’t give me time to fully come down. He moves up my body. “You’ve convinced me.”

“Huh?”

He wraps my legs around his waist. I feel his cock right at my opening, hard and insistent.

“You’re healed.”

And then he drives himself inside.

Another moan slips out of me as his thickness stretches me. It’s been lifetimes since we did this. Pestilence has been so careful not to hurt me or jostle my wounds that it’s a shock that he’s now suddenlyinme.

It’s an even bigger surprise to feel his frenetic energy. His movements are not slow and reverent, or even playful and exploratory. He pistons into me like he can’t drive himself deep enough, and he gathers me up to him like he can’t hold me tight enough. His mouth sears my skin as he kisses my shoulder, one of my bullet wounds, my throat, my lips.

His hands grip my legs, pulling me closer.

Thump—thump—thump!

The headboard smacks into the wall again and again and again until paint and a little bit of plaster have chipped away.

Pestilence’s eyes glint brightly. And it’s not wholly love that I’m seeing. It’s love and anguish and a possessive desperation and—strangest of all—an apology.

I can’t make much of it now, however. Not with his cock filling me up and rubbing me down in all the right places.

For a second time I tip over the edge. I clench around him, pulling him close to me. With a groan, he comes on the wings of my climax, rocking into me like his very life depends on it.

Once he begins to come down, he kisses me everywhere, his lips brushing over every bit of exposed flesh. All that raw, male energy is converting into something painfully sweet and reverent.

He gathers me to him, cradling my body against his own. There’s nothing like being pressed skin to skin with this man to make me feel utterly at ease with the world. My eyelids begin to lower.

Still haven’t figured out the contraception issue, I think lazily.

Pestilence brushes a kiss along my temple.

He’d make a good dad.

Can’t believe I just had that thought …