Now that we got gone for good, writhing under your riding hoodβ¦
Jackson Rippner. Your boyfriend, yes. What else?
A killer. A cruel man. An assassin.
Yet he was addicting. His presence commanding, intoxicating, like how a wolf is drawn to the moon, you were drawn to him. Oh, and he was a bad man. And he made you bad in turn. In the eyes of the people who had once known you, your heart had turned cold and black, and you wouldnβt have it any other way. You now had no time to answer friends or family, your time was reserved for Jackson, and Jackson alone.
The door of the temporary apartment -they were always temporary, as he always moved, pulling you like a magnet with him- swung open, and in the devil walked.
His cold eyes narrowed at the sight of you, standing at the granite kitchen counter, and like a predator, he prowled over, wrapping you in his strong arms, and silencing the greeting on the tip of your tongue with a kiss.
βHello, sweetheart-β He purred, his voice beautifully dangerous. βGood day?β He asked, not like he cared much, but it was wonderful to hear anyways. His hands trailed around the hem of your lacy nightgown, awaiting your response.