A thousand suns light me up. Except their heat, their energy, their power was never this deliciously masculine.

Kissing Marshal freely is an out-of-body experience. Having his hands trawling my curves defies description.

I'm not in Kansas anymore, or heck, not even Port Eagle, Iowa.

I'm in his hands. I'm on his tongue. Undone, piece by piece, reduced to the sharp hum anchored in my thighs, the incessant craving.

“Marshal!” His name is one more slurred moan once he breaks for air. “Jesus.”

“No,” he rumbles, grabbing my chin, touching his forehead to mine. The edge of his stubble grazes my cheek, seductive and rough. I'm scared and excited to find out what it'll feel like between my legs. “Leave him the fuck out of it, Red. We're already balls deep in blasphemy.”

I'm so flushed I'm shaking. This is wrong on so many levels, but he isn't.

My hand slides back in his. Those baby blues cemented in his head pin me down, a hunger more like a wild animal's than a man's lapping to get out. “You. Bed. Right the fuck now.”

I remember not to squeal at the last second. My feet are off the ground and I'm thrown over his shoulder. His footsteps race the furious tempo of my own heart as he carries me down the hall.

It's a nice distance, comfortably several walls away from Mia's room, but I hope like nothing else we won't wake her.

Marshal's subtle, rough scent amplifies in the bedroom. I can't take a breath without smelling him in the sheets draped over his spartan bed, in the work clothes hanging in his closet, and yes, all over me.

My nostrils bristle. His scent is just like his taste: pain dipped in passion, a little bit of motor oil, and so overwhelmingly real.

“Marshal, please!” I hiss, falling against the bed, bucking against his hand. He's grabbing at the hem of my gown. He's already torn one of the straps, leaving my right boob nearly exposed.

I thought he'd suck it, flick it with his thumb, but there's no stopping the animalistic need to be inside me. He has me bent over, pressing his hard-on against my wetness, edge of my gown tossed over my ass.

It's suddenly paper thin. Like I've been wrapped up and served, and his rough, marauding hands are going everywhere.

“You really want to fuck me, Red? You want a dick inside you attached to a mouth that can't kiss without teeth?” He's snarling in my ear.

His hand reaches for my neck, gives it a firm squeeze. Then a brusque shake, demanding answers.

“Would I be here if I didn't?” I whimper.

No sooner than the words are out, something hot stings my ass. A delectable crack explodes in my ears.

Holy hell. He didn't just do that...did he?

I haven't even lost my virginity, and I'm being spanked.

“Wrong fucking answer, Red. If you want this, if you want me to give you every inch, then say it. Say it.” Every word rips out of him sharper.

I'm tense and hot. Squirming underneath him. His bulge presses into my panties, separated only by our clothes. My ache becomes insane.

And, God, he's still holding me down.

“Yes, Marshal. Please. Please be my first.” My moan crescendos and softens, wondering why his pressure is suddenly so much less.

Those rough hands catch my shoulders, flip me around, and put us face-to-face. His huge chest rises and falls. I think we both know I just screwed up. I never should've said the word first.

“Too honest?” I whisper, hoping it cuts the tension.

“What the fuck did you mean by first?” Raging blue eyes shift, searching mine. “You can't be serious, Red, telling me you've never fucked a man before?”

Who knew hot, cold, and awkward could merge like a melting sundae? Okay, so when I'm half-naked, sopping wet, and begging to have my brains screwed out by a beast-man like Marshal Howard, announcing my virginity probably isn't the smartest move.

“It's true, but so what? I'm ready. I want you, Marshal. I want to give myself to –“

“Fuck.” He eases backward, hand over his face, snarling as he riffles his thick hair. “Fuck!”

My cheeks blaze like twin suns. I sit up, hands on my knees, pulling down my gown. I'm holding my breath, waiting for him to turn around, and look me in the eye. If I'm destined to shuffle back to my room tonight, humiliated and alone, then let's just get this over with.

But he doesn't say a word. Just stops, hand against the wall, staring like a wolf.

“What?” It comes out sharply. I can't take the suspense. “Seriously?!”

“You.” He lifts a hand and points. “This is crazy, Red. Wrong. All kinds of fucked up in ways I didn't know existed.”

My teeth prod my bottom lip. I don't like how he's staring. There's a hundred reasons to get up, walk over, and send my hand flying across his cheek like lightning. But there's another reason I'm paralyzed, questioning how it's still possible to want him as bad as I do when he's dressing me down like a dumb kid.

Marshal is a freaking enigma.

His pose, just a little too stern. His eyes, too bright. His voice, too much like thunder to leave me certain about anything.

I can't figure him out. Even when he's being a jackass, I can't, and it makes me a moth to flame.

I jump when he starts moving. It's such a deliberate, quick motion, so fast he's next to me again, fingers in my hair, teasing new goosebumps on my skin.

“Real talk: as bad as I want to rip that thing to shreds, push your face into the pillow, and fuck you hoarse, I shouldn't. You deserve better for your first. Some skinny, smiley little prick who didn't get hollowed out in a war zone, who didn't knock up a one-night bar stand.” His breath is so heavy on my throat, skipping up my neck as it travels to my ear. “But fuck, Red. Fuck. There's that need. Desire makes a man crazy. Here's your last chance: tell me to fuck you, and I will.”

My hands tense in my lap, a hard ball pressed together. Those eyes of his aren't just undressing me. They're blue oceans with a terrible undertow and zero apologies. They catch me, drown me, draw me into a deep trench with no escape written all over it.

“Marshal...please.” My cheeks are overheating before I even say it, the crude, nasty thing he's demanding. “I want this. I want you. I want us to enjoy one night. Fuck me.”

I'm expecting a second of hesitation, one last oh-Jesus-is-this-really-happening moment.

I'm flat out wrong.

Marshal curls one hand around my head, seizing a few locks of my hair. He pulls until my lips are primed for his. Our kiss is a collision, and it's happening while his other hand takes the left strap of my gown that's still intact.

One quick jerk destroys it. Oh, hell.

I'm moaning, he's growling, and our tongues are two sucking fuses lit on fire. He pushes me against the bed, the better to drink me in, grinding his cock into my panties. My clit throbs against his friction, harder by the second through my panties, soaked and tight and so damn ready.

My breath hitches when he leans back, stripping me down to new naked levels with his eyes. It's just a prelude to actually being naked, in the flesh. Marshal's hands go to the loose fabric hanging on my breasts. He takes it in both hands and rips.

My gown screams. The entire thing parts in his ruthless hands, falls around me like a torn sheath, revealing my bare breasts for his animal tongue.

Holy hell, it's on.

His hands, his mouth, his teeth surround my nipples. They're pebbled, pleading, begging to be sucked and stroked sane again. Lucky me this brute is a master.

His stubble rakes new friction on my skin, igniting fresh moans.

His hand cups my left breast and squeezes while his mouth attacks the right. My nipple disappears in his mouth. Pleasure comes in waves that make me ripple.

His eyes – holy hell, those eyes – never release me for more than a second. They're forged to mine, studying every tick in my face, and there are so many it's embarrassing. There's something shameful, becoming undone like this for him, but my body doesn't care.

My heart regrets nothing.

Good thing, too, because his kisses zip down the softness of my belly. He lifts my leg, holds it at an angle, opening the path for his frantic hunger. Then his mouth races up my thighs again, trading kisses on each, and then the faintest nip of teeth.

Oh, God. Oh, God!

I'm afraid I'll come before he's even touched my fuse.

My panties ball up in his hands. There's less than two seconds from the time I lift my ass and they swing off my ankles, baring all.

I'm naked. Exposed. Brutally wet.

He stops with his face in front of my swollen pussy lips. There's a growl in his throat. Hot, sweet breath greets my wetness.

Then the warmth stops. He's inhaling me. Slowly and maddeningly in control.

“Please,” I whisper again, voice shaking. “Please, Marshal.”

Oh, but this beast has his own schedule, and apparently it's not the same as mine. He looks up a second later, new blue fire in his eyes, just as his hand finds its way between my legs and spreads me open. “No. Fuck my fingers first.”

His thumb drifts over my clit. His pressure mounts just out of reach, making me work for it. And I do.

Legs splayed over his huge shoulders, I'm grinding into him. I need this. Rocking my pussy on his hand, searching for the delicious friction again, begging for release.

Marshal's thumb pushes in, covering my clit, vibrating. My breath stalls out in my lungs.

So. Damn. Close.

His free hand reaches up, pinches my chin, aiming his gaze into me. “Come for me, darling. Come like a good girl before you get to do it a whole lot harder on my tongue.”

His hand starts moving again, quickening its hypnotic rhythm. There's a tense, sticky heat in my belly, an explosion, and I'm gone.

My first O shears me in two.

Thighs shaking, sheets balled in both hands, rendered breathless. I'm coming harder than anything I've ever had with my own fingers or the tiny silver vibrator I keep in my drawer at home.

His fingers press my opening apart, but stop just short of entering. He's making me wait for his mouth, his cock, his fury.

He's drenched every nerve in whiskey with his don't you fucking stop look, and his thumb won't let me dream of it.

Who the hell is this? Surely, not Sadie anymore. The girl on his hand is a humping, heated, sweat soaked mess – everything feels hotter than it should on a cold winter's night – and nothing, nothing, stops the onslaught.

Not until it's over.

Not until he's given me my fill.

Not until his hand drifts away from the vice of my thighs, he pinches my face harder, and his kiss eases me back from heaven.

My eyes flutter, still trying to process what just happened. You came like you didn't know you could, stupid, I tell myself.

There's no denying it. The satisfied smirk on his lips won't let me tell any lies.

“Always knew you'd come fucking beautiful, Red,” he whispers, running his fingers briskly through my hair again. He waits until my eyes are his before the next words come. “Touch me.”

I don't know what he means. I sit up and the room is spinning. There's a new sight to take in as he grips his shirt, rolls it up his body, and exposes every miraculous inch of his skin.

He's even more of a mountain than I thought.

Smooth in his peaks and valleys. Rugged where it counts. Shadows everywhere, branded on his skin in tangled, messy ink. Blazing warm to my touch.

I gnaw my lip, extending a hand. My fingers connect with his side and move cautiously across his warrior abs. My hand saunters over his feral tattoos like I'm afraid they'll burn.

So hot. So wild. So hard.

So damn hard.

My eyes flit to the bulge in his jeans. My hand starts moving down, but he's faster than me. I gasp when his fist catches my wrist, stopping my hand in mid-air. “No. Let me guide you.”

His other hand flicks his jeans open, roughs down the zipper, and he shuffles out of his pants. His boxers are a flick from coming off. There's a new heat in my blood before his exposed cock pops out just from seeing the outline.

It's...nothing like I expect. Except for guessing he'd be massive, I mean.

“Holy...” I stop mid-sentence, fingers trembling. Marshal wears a ghostly smile as he moves my hand to his cock, pushes my fingers around his full length, and we glide down it together.

Of course, he's augmented. Unnatural. The small metal nub in his swollen head tickles my skin.

“Welcome home, Sadie. It's pierced, it's rock, and it's down to fuck you senseless, darling. You ever used your mouth on a man?” He stares through me while I shake my head. “Good. Plenty of chances to learn. Put your virgin tongue to work, Red. Wow me.”

Great. It's totally no pressure when he sounds like he's expecting miracles.

I've never given a blowjob in my life, but I'm an eager student. I sink down on my knees, leaning into him, gripping his cock by the base while I lower my mouth.

His head snaps back. Thunder quakes in his throat, a satisfied rumble. “Yeah, yeah. So fucking tight.”

I try not to smile when he groans. Then I just focus on moving up and down, taking his fullness, tasting his masculine essence. That stud in his cock is a nice marker. It gives me something to drag my tongue up to again and again, before I dive back down, taking more of him every time, whatever I can handle.

I'm not even halfway down his length. My pussy, quietly afraid of his size, melts anyway in a hot, wet need.

He groans again. Louder. I suck faster.

There's a strange, wicked pride building the more this beast rumbles, the more he tenses along my tongue, the harder he stares out through narrowed, violent blues.

He's like a sexual volcano, release building, but his expression is the most relaxed I've ever seen.

Marshal is vulnerable. Enjoying himself, for once. And it's all thanks to me.

I moan the next time I drag my tongue down. His fist pulls my hair tighter, guiding me up, glaring at the hand I put between my legs. It's instinct, and it's impossible to resist touching myself while I've got a mouthful of his cock.

“Enough,” he says softly.

Confused, I try to suck harder, moving my mouth as quickly as I can. The fierce tension in my hair sharpens, but it's also reluctant when he pulls.

“I said, 'enough.'” His eyes are darker than the dim room, expecting obedience.

He tips his face up, motioning me to stand. I do, running my tongue over my lip. “Sorry. Was it...you know?”

“Good? One more minute and I'd have busted in your mouth. Not because you're some virtuoso in sucking dick like a whore, but because it's you. You on this dick, and only fucking you, Red.”

Touching. In a weird, shameful, heart-wrenching way.

I try not to read too much in his words. He certainly wouldn't want me to. But it's like I've just received a gold star on my first cock sucking test from a bear of a teacher I shouldn't even be with.

Just because it's wrong doesn't mean I'm not proud of it.

“On your hands and knees, on the bed. Now.” His hands circle my ass, pinching my cheeks, bringing me home.

I turn, giving my butt a defiant shake. His low growl brings a smile to my lips, and then I'm on the bed, shamefully naked and open and loving it.

Is this it? I'm waiting for his raging fullness to fill me any second. The bed sinks beneath his weight. But it's too heavy, too concentrated in one place to warrant an imminent fuck.

His stubble tickles my thighs. There's just enough time to gasp before he buries his face in my pussy.

I try to take it, just like he wants, but it's overwhelming.

Marshal's hands on my thighs, holding me open. Frantic licks dive-bombing my aching cunt, pulling me open a little more each time. He's sucking, tasting, owning me from the inside-out.

Mercy.

I don't even try to last.

My hands grip the pillows above my head for dear life as I collapse on the bed, ass up and at his mercy. Snarling, he pulls on my legs again, making me the world's most pampered prisoner to his tongue.

My clit burns, swells, and ignites.

Then it's all just fire. So much more than the first time.

My blood becomes a cocktail bent on vicious ecstasy. Chemicals churn in my veins, hit my lower belly, join the heat and give themselves over to the expert chemist's tongue. With just the right pressure, Marshal pulls my tiny, pulsing nub into his teeth and strokes like it's his last time.

Because hell, maybe it will be. And if tonight is the only night I'm destined to enjoy the Castoff's fuck-genius, I want to come harder than I ever thought possible.

My appetite hasn't softened a bit for his cock. The latest O he laps into my body, leaving me breathless, offers relief.

It's fleeting. By the time I'm able to tilt my face on the pillow to replenish my spent lungs, the need surges in my pussy again.

It's madness, but it's real. Probably medically unhealthy, too, and there's only one cure.

His hand slides into mine from behind. “Turn, Sadie. Spread those legs and get the fuck ready.”

Helping me, pushing his massive body between my legs, reaching across the side of the bed. The drawer to his homemade nightstand rips open so hard it slams against wood.

My eyes focus through the darkness, just in time to see him tearing open foil with his teeth. The condom hangs in his fingers like a portal to another world. He grabs my hand, guiding it to the rubbery sheath, and then to his cock, fuller than ever and leaking pre-come.

It slides on with a pleasant tightness. Then I'm falling gently, legs open and under him. Finally ready.

“Breathe for me, darling,” he growls, placing his hand gently on my throat. The head of his cock presses closer to my entrance. “Look here. Give me your eyes when I take your cherry.”

Oh, God.

He's taking so much more than my virginity. I'm delirious.

My hands go flush to his big, powerful arms. Then he's moving in, hips pushing hard, the head of his cock forcefully taking, filling, staking its claim.

My pussy burns. Something soft and faint gives way. There's a second of pain, and then a little more as my walls fight to take him in all his pierced wonder. But it works because I was made for it.

In this weird, sensual I-can't-believe-I'm-actually-fucking-Marshal moment, I think I was custom made for him.

Marshal grunts when his cock pushes in to the hilt. His balls rest against my ass, warm and full, God only knows how many pumps away from giving up their fire. Holding his position, his hand takes my breast, and my nipple throbs in his fingers as he smothers me in a kiss.

“Fuck me, Red. Throw your little hips into mine. Yeah, darling, just like that.” A satisfied groan melts into another kiss.

I listen, and we're off.

Losing our minds. Fusing our bodies. Matching pulses.

My senses shut down. I lift my legs higher, fighting through the early discomfort, the burn. Pleasure rewards me a little more with every thrust. And then a lot when I'm able to push my hips into his.

My whimpers get more shrill by the second, drowning out the soft creak of the bed. His thrusts are coming harder, faster. They lift me up and punch me down again, masculine power slamming into me.

Marshal's eyes burn like never before. It's so intense I want to look away, if only he weren't holding my chin, keeping my lips ready every time he wants to stamp another rough kiss into me.

There's a new side of him in bed. It's wounded, frantic, and dangerously greedy. He owns me harder in every thrust, and that's where I sense him letting go, wishing our bodies were the entire universe.

My fingers pinch his arms harder. I move my hips into his, bite into our next kiss, as rough as I can stand because I want him to be okay, damn it. I don't want him to think. I want him to be here, with me, sharing this reckless, beautiful heat.

Harder, Marshal. Fuck me and forget the rest.

Just you, and me, and fire.

Whatever I'm doing, it works. He can't control the roughness entering his rhythm.

His hips slam mine so hard I might bruise. Delicate friction from his pubic bone becomes a fierce rubbing, rocketing my clit into ecstasy.

My mouth falls open, seeking desperate breath. “Marshal, I can't...I can't!”

The words I can't form tell him surrender is just a heartbeat away.

Those blue fires in his eyes intensify, and he grabs my hands. He pins me to the bed. His hips go rabid, thrusting like they're fully possessed. They finish me.

The fireball he's lit in my belly explodes, careening through the rest of me. My body hitches to his and I'm a convulsing mess, entirely undone by the unstoppable O ripping through me.

It's an eternity before it stops. Marshal sees to that, shoving my wrists deep into the mattress, grunting every time I bite the pillow to stop the screams, fucking like a piston. He wants my O harder, faster, deeper.

He thrusts through my pussy clenching his cock. Undaunted, feral, fueled by animal want.

My body is fried on so many levels, and we're nowhere near done. It's incredible how I still want – no, need – him to finish.

I don't understand it, but I do.

Marshal's next kiss is heavy. His tongue chases mine, says we're not done until he's given me some of that fire torching his veins.

His next few thrusts are electric, more deliberate than before. Growling, he lets my hands up. Seizing my legs, he throws them over his shoulders, lending better leverage.

His huge inked body becomes a hammer. He crashes into me, his huge chest rising and falling faster.

He rocks me to my very core.

Nerves I didn't know I had dance. Pulse quickens. Every bone in my body sings. My fingernails push into the soft sheets, seeking coolness, relief from Marshal's firestorm.

It's the contrast, two delicious sensations colliding, that rips open the sky and showers us in ecstasy.

My legs tremble, tuned to the thunder welling in his throat. “Come for me, Red. We come together. Right the fuck now!”

Vicious words. They're dirty, roughness in my ears, and also irresistible.

“Marshal!” His name is a hoarse whisper. It's the last thing I recognize before everything turns blinding white.

Release comes, fierce and incandescent.

Shaking, sweating, clutching at each other, we give in. We give all.

My legs pinch his waist and he bows up inside me, pouring his heat into the condom. It's hotter than anything.

His cock sinks into me, throbbing, and I look up. Marshal's jaw pinches tight as his body shudders. His seed flows like madness itself leaving him.

Then there's a tense peace on his face. A relief. Like all the burdens corroding him from the inside-out are vapor. It's unexpected, beautiful, and it makes me come harder.

Relief is infectious, too. There's an afterglow waiting once my spasms wane; happy, soft, and freeing.

His grip is looser, but his eyes are still glued to mine. I reach up, stroking his big arms. Then I find his hand, push my fingers through his, holding on and waiting for him to leave a new empty ache in my body.

His hips roll back, untangling us slowly.

“Shit,” he whispers.

Oh, no. It can't be that bad pulling out, right? But the second my eyes hit the space between us, noticing the soft smear on the tip of his cock, it's my turn to echo his soft curse.

“Shit!”

Fingers trembling, I reach between my legs. There's something thick and hot spilling out of me, far too much to be natural.

“Fucking condom broke,” he growls. “Hang on.”

I watch all six feet of his hard, gorgeous body rise. He carries the mess in his hand to the bathroom. I hear it hit the trash and then the running water.

It's a strange background track to contemplate the myriad ways my life could change after tonight. Unintended consequences never seemed so real.

Of course, I can't just let it happen.

I'm sitting on the bed when he comes out, fingers combing his dark hair with his fingers. “Darling, I'm sorry. That's never happened before. Haven't even boned for the better part of a year. What are the odds?”

“Nothing we need to worry about,” I say, smiling as I pat the bed. I wait for him to calm down and sit next to me. “Remember June at the clinic? Front desk? We're still on friendly terms. I'm sure she'll help me get some Plan B. It pays to have a direct line to the pharmacy.”

He stares for a second, then reaches over, takes my hands, and lifts them to his lips. The kiss he plants on my wrists, one at a time, is exactly what I need to calm down. “Whatever happens, we'll deal. It's nothing I can't handle, Red.”

Is he talking about the possibility – even with the drug – that I could wind up pregnant? No way.

That's not happening. Still, it's sweet, in its own weird, wonderful, panicky way.

Apparently, I didn't just sleep with a beast who made my first time memorable because he's so damn good at it.

I slept with a good heart. It's there somewhere, buried behind the body sculpted by war, torment, and dark black ink coiled across his skin like serpents.

“You need a ride now, or what?” he asks, baby blues interrogating me softly.

“We're fine. The night's young, Marshal. And it's not like the next few hours will change anything after we've had one broken condom. Why don't we pick up where we left off before sleeping? I'll do it first thing tomorrow.” I raise an eyebrow, tightening my fingers in his, tempting him.

He looks me up and down. That hunger I love returns. Reaching for my hand, he guides it to his cock, wraps my fingers snug, and squeezes. “Guy I knew in the army always told me to watch out for redheads. Devils, all of them, he said. Never thought I'd ever want to break a fuck record in one night with one.”

Oh, but we do.

The night blurs on in a sex crazed haze. My virgin pussy isn't just broken into womanhood by morning. It's taken, filled, stretched, completed in the best ways.

The last time Marshal bends me over, sinking his bare cock to the hilt in long, deep strokes, I can't stop smiling.

It's different now. This isn't wrong anymore.

It's natural. Comfortable. Right.

We fit together in mysterious ways beyond how well his thrusts light me on fire.

My toes curl, dipped in pleasure, right before he crashes into me again. His cock plunges deep, swells deliciously, and erupts.

I come with no apologies, drawing in his thick, naked heat. Losing myself in Marshal's very essence. He empties into me with a roar, draining his balls, snug against my clit as they pulse out their contents.

The mess he leaves behind when we crash, tangled in each other's arms, is oddly satisfying.

There was always something we couldn't quite work out with words. It's nice to let our bodies do the talking for a change in the primal, secret language only the flesh understands.

I woke up his nanny, and nothing more.

Tonight, we're lovers.

Whatever we become tomorrow, just like he told me, we'll deal.