My husband strips me naked before his hands are even on my dress. It's his eyes.

Never has he looked so hungry.

Never have I felt so bare.

Never, ever have I wanted him in me so bad while feeling like a total virgin. Not even our first time together, when he actually claimed my V-card.

This is better. This is more.

Holy hell. Marshal cups my face, bringing his lips to mine for what seems like the hundredth time today. It's incredible how his kiss grows sweeter.

It's slower, harder, dirtier. It lights new fires under my skin, makes me fall into him.

Maybe it's because we finally have all the time in the world for each other. I'm ready to relish every second.

I kiss him back harder, urging him on. It doesn't take much.

Marshal's hands grip mine, rough and thick and delicious as always. They travel my body like an explorer marking territory, taking what's his, and always seeking more. His shoulders go on forever. His huge inked chest rumbles against mine when he speaks, raising my blood a few more degrees.

“You ready for your husband's cock?” he growls, a raw spark in his eye that says, you'd better be, beautiful.

“Hell yeah.” I throw my hips into his, tracing his bulge, even through our clothes.

It's almost a shame to lose his suit and tie. I love his rough everyday charm, the jeans and flannel, but the change of pace is even hotter. He's a class act, more like a distinguished prince than a former soldier and bootstrapping mechanic, dressed to dazzle.

Oh, but I know how wrong I am for missing the suit once our clothes fall in hurried fistfuls. If it wasn't obvious with just one look, his stubble would tell me. It races against my skin, prickly as ever, fanning my lust.

There's nothing delicate in his full naked glory. He's my beast, furious and filthy mouthed, inked and hard and always in control.

A rough push is all it takes to put me on the edge of the bed. He growls into my skin, lips marauding downward, fingers perched between my legs, teasing my pussy. The tingle that's been there since this evening becomes an itch, and then a roar.

“Fuck my fingers, Red. Fuck them till I decide you're done.” He pushes two stiff fingers into me. Holding his thumb just away from my clit, I buck into him, madness descending a little more every second I'm missing his cock.

His tongue helps distract me for a few minutes. His face dives between my legs. Licks come tense, quick, unrelenting. They sweep up as my legs buckle, and the crushing fire inside me explodes.

“Marshal, yes!”

Yes.

Oh, hell, I'm coming. Just like he wants me to: hot, forced, and totally his.

Marshal's tongue takes my pussy apart with every lick. He turns me inside out, teases my inner heat, makes every whimper spilling out meld into one long beg.

Please, please fuck me.

It seems like I'm coming forever before my body lets my senses work again.

We've changed positions. He's put me on all fours, pushed my ass up prone, gripping each cheek in his rebel hands.

“You get how much I love you, darling?” he growls, pushing the swollen head of his cock past my aching lips. I whimper, bury my face in the sheet. “No? How about now?”

Damn, another inch. His cock piercing hits the spot on my inner wall that makes me clench. So close, so hot, so full, but not the fullness I need.

“Why the silence, Red? What the fuck's got your tongue?” His hand rubs my ass, soft and kneading. Then his voice drops an octave. My breath stops. “Answer me.”

Such a simple command. Accented by the brisk, fiery slap across my ass, which makes me jerk up, breathing again. “Answer,” he says.

“All of you, Marshal. I want it, please. Fuck me.” I barely recognize my own strained voice. I want this so bad it hurts, a thousand times worse than any delicious spanking.

Will I come on the first stroke of my husband's dick? Is that the magic of our wedding night? I'm afraid I'm about to find out.

“Just like that? Fuck my sweet, adorable, ass-like-perfection wife? Is it really that easy?” Marshal's fingers lace through my hair, tugging a fistful.

Oh, God. I'm nodding hard.

Then it happens. He pushes in to the hilt and I think my brain leaves this planet.

It's dark out tonight, but I see everything from that silly poem. The maiden's kiss, the light, the sun, the moon, the stars. I see our loving reflection lit up every day in the future, in our children's eyes, and in Mia's.

I see myself hunkered over him while he rocks our new born baby, so gently I'm crying. I see four kids and a French bulldog. A little boy and two twin girls, plus Mia. All ours. Equal parts miracle and beautiful. I even see my dying breath, him at my side, eyes locked on me so intense they pierce the veil and say, I will fucking find you again.

Not even the end could stop this man. His love bends the very laws of the universe.

He's mine, I'm his, and that's just the end of it.

Simple. Just like the rough heat splitting me in two.

Release is an explosion. One hard whimpering, sheet clawing, cock pinching O.

Then there are many. And I can't tell where they begin or end.

He's striking nerves I didn't know existed, thrusting through my climax. His distant breath gets closer, heavier, more feral every time. My ass slams into him, rippling like never before.

It's vicious, hot, and beautiful. Fitting. It's how loving him has always been: hard, glorious, and a little scary.

But it always works out, doesn't it?

Something sure does while he's power slamming into me, grunting a little louder every time, finding his release. His cock plunges deep, holds, and swells, setting me off all over again.

I reach behind me, gripping his hands. I pinch his fingers so hard I think I do damage.

I don't know. I don't care. The boundaries between our bodies are completely gone, no more divide between his pleasure and mine.

There's just our heat, coming in waves. Burning like a howling napalm fire.

His seed erupts, hurling into me in thick lava ropes, and I'm left pushing my face into the mattress, stifling my screams.

He doesn't pull out for a long time. Marshal roots himself in me, kissing my neck, bringing me back from – hell, what was that? I can't find the words to explain it.

Just know I can't wait for it to happen again.

Eventually, he rolls me over, and pushes into me again, never going soft. He cradles my cheek. I look him in the eye while we're still, his fingers sliding through my hair, eyes driving spikes through my soul.

It should be unpleasant, a love this intense. But Marshal Howard doesn't do weakness.

“We're doing this a thousand more times, Red,” he growls. It ends in a kiss and his forehead pressed to mine.

“Huh? Tonight?!” I look up, more than a little worried. I'm wondering if he's crazy enough to try.

There's the grin I've fallen in love with, shining on his face like an early morning sun. “We'll put a dent in it by dawn, sure. But that isn't what I mean.”

“No?” I study his starry blue eyes. Apparently, our sex is so good it's either made me miss words, or unable to understand them.

Then his hand slides into mine and he kisses me again. “I'm talking about us, darling Red. You and me. Every day. It'll be a thousand fucking lifetimes before I even dream of asking for a breather. And that'll only be because I want a minute to step back, take you, and realize – fuck – you're still mine.”

I smile like a crazy woman into our next kiss. That's how it hits me.

When you've found the man who takes your light, who spins it into something beautiful, a thousand lifetimes isn't nearly enough. The heat death of the universe will happen before our love goes cold.

We're destined to last until forever loses its meaning and just is.

There's no beginning or end when there's just us. There can't be.

Because Marshal Howard is fate, and now he's part of who I am, who I was, and who I'll always be.