She knew who he was when she met him, the kind of man he was. She could see the blood on his hands and all the people he killed trailing behind him like some caravan. The moment she lay eyes on him she saw the monster that resided in him. Yet she was enthralled, he whipped up a storm of fury and death and she was swept away. Mesmerized by those sad killer eyes and the long fingers that could break a man's neck.
He's killed many times, more times than he count, she supposes, but none of that really matters. Not when he lays in between warm sheets with her, his hands wrapping around her waist possessively. The thought that he could break her like a twig making her hotter and wetter than she's ever been. And when his hands reach for her wrists, pinning them above her head; his body heavy on top of hers…
"You can't stop me, even if you wanted," he growls lewdly, rolling his hips toward hers, she whimpers as he enters her hard and fast. The bruises on her thighs and wrists a pretty reminder of what he's capable of.
She knows of the darkness that resides in him, the demon just waiting to be let out. But she wants him, all of him. She wants him so much that none of it makes a difference, not when she knows that deep inside her also rests a monster just waiting to be let out.