by Tillie Cole
“Styx!” she cried and clawed at my hair. Her clit was already swollen and full, and I knew it wouldn’t take her much to come.
I flicked my tongue over her clit until her hips started bucking. I kept her spread open as I drank her down. Then Mae tensed and screamed as she came. I lapped at her pussy until she jerked and tried to push my head away.
I kissed her inner thighs then moved over her hips, over her bump, until I reached her tits. I licked the flesh and sucked her hard nipples into my mouth. When I glanced up, Mae’s eyes were closed and her lips were parted. Strands of her hair had fallen from their clips. And she looked fucking perfect.
I kissed up her neck, then her mouth. I pushed my tongue inside, knowing she’d be able to taste herself on my tongue. But Mae took it, bringing me closer. Breaking from her mouth, I pushed the fallen hair from her face. “F-fuckin’ wife,” I whispered out and saw her eyes close like they were best fucking words she’d ever heard.
“My husband,” she said when her eyes reopened and she ran her fingers down my face.
“Mae,” I growled, needing to be inside her. Moving further between her legs, I braced my cock at her hole then pushed forward. I braced her head with my hands, holding my stomach off hers. Mae’s hands wrapped around my neck, and I never once broke eye contact. Those fucking eyes that had me under her goddamn spell. Mae’s eyes, Persephone’s eyes . . . fucking ice-blue wolf eyes.
I gritted my teeth when I filled her, bottomed the fuck out. “River,” Mae whispered, her eyes fucking shining with tears. She’d called me River. Even now, after all this time, when she called me by my real name in her weird accent, I fucking lost it.
“B-Babe,” I hissed as I pulled out then pushed back inside. “F-fuckin’ perfect,” I added, rolling my hips as I took her harder and faster. Mae moaned, her lips parting as she lost her breath. I moved faster still, harder, deeper, then reached for one of her hands behind my neck. I pushed my fingers through hers and laid her hand flat on the bed. I did the same with the other hand and stared at the rings on our fingers. Those fucking rings. Those fucking pieces of damn metal and gold stealing my motherfucking breath.
“My husband,” Mae murmured again and I felt her pussy clamping down on my cock. “Styx . . . I am . . . I am . . .” she moaned, cutting off her words, before her eyes locked with mine and she came. Her pussy gripped my cock, and the sight of her, head tipped back, mouth open, had me slamming inside her one more time as I came too, filling her with my cum, her pussy draining all I had.
I pushed inside her over and over until I slipped to the side, bringing her with me. We were coated in sweat, but I fucking loved how she looked, well-fucked and all fucking mine. I still held her hand, the one with the ring. Nothing was said as we caught our breath, until Mae moved her head closer to mine. “It is strange, is it not, how such a small piece of jewelry can make your heart feel so complete?”
“Yeah,” I said, my voice dry and raw.
“Yet it feels as though it has always been there. Always destined for this simple ring to grace it. I think when God designed me, he already had you in mind. Look.” Mae held up her hands, her fucking small fingers against mine: pale against tanned, clean against tattooed. “A perfect fit.”
“F-fucking k-k-killin’ me, b-bitch,” I said and watched her smile up at me. Christ, I was sure no fucking other bitch on the damn planet was as beautiful as her.
“I was so proud of you today,” she said her eyes shining again.
I shrugged. “W-wanted to say those v-vows.”
“You floored me, and everyone else there.” She guided my hand to her stomach, and I laughed when I felt our son kick. Mae giggled. “I think that Charon is telling you he was proud of his daddy too.” I didn’t know why, but that was the comment that fucking hit me hard.
“D-don’t think I ever made my old m-man p-proud,” I confessed and watched Mae’s expression fall. I ran my hand over her pale stomach, smirking when my kid kicked again. “W-Wanna be a g-good dad, M-Mae. Want ou-our son to be pr-proud of m-me.”
“He will be,” she whispered, and I watched the tears roll down her face. “How could he not? You stood up at the altar today and spoke. I watched you fight back your demons and win. I watched you fight your throat for the words you so badly wanted to say. In front of a crowd—your worst fear—yet you spoke. You took my hands, although they shook, and committed yourself to me . . . and our son, out loud.” She paused. “He will be nothing but proud of you. And I will watch him adore you, want to be just like you. His daddy, who struggles yet rises, victorious, every time.”
I swallowed at her words, and she moved closer to me. Her head was on my pillow. “What?” I asked.
“I wrote vows for you, River.” I nodded, knowing that she had. I’d seen some of them on her notepad. “I wrote them before we decided on the traditional vows.” She glanced away then, coming back to me, said, “I would like to say them to you now.”
I nodded. There was no fucking way I could speak. Mae cleared her throat and held onto my hand. Then she spoke. “River. I did not know what life was until I found you. The boy who came into my life as a child. The boy with no voice who miraculously found words in my presence. The boy who kissed me on my lips, blessing me with the foreign, unreachable concept of hope. The boy I was always destined to love. The boy who held the sweetest music in his heart, who saved me, and showed me what it was to be home.” Mae laughed when her voice cracked with emotion.
But I kept listening. I didn’t want to miss a damn word. “You accepted me, a girl who had known nothing but pain and sorrow in her life. And from the moment I saw you again, years after you comforted me by the fence as a broken, bruised child . . .” She smiled. “And kissed my lips as an eight-year-old girl, I was yours. We fought. We had to fight hard to be together, through too many obstacles to count. But in the end, our love was triumphant. A love that was impossible to forge in such a harsh world, but one that rose from the ashes regardless, to be pure and real and true.” Mae placed her hand on my cheek. “Because you are my Hades, my misunderstood, tortured dark lord. And I am your queen, your Persephone, the blue-eyed woman who saw through your shield and won the trophy of your heart. Forever to keep. Forever mine. And mine, forever yours.”
Mae exhaled when she finished, and I had no fucking words. I never did, but this time it was worse.
“Y-You’re it for m-me, b-babe,” I said and watched Mae’s face melt into fucking pure happiness. “Y-You know that, y-yeah? I ain’t g-got words, b-but I got that p-promise.”
“Thank you,” she whispered like I’d just written her a damn poem or some shit. “Love you, babe,” I said and kissed her fucking lips once more.
“I love you too,” she said then beamed a fucking smile my way. “And you did not stutter, not even once.”
So I took her fucking mouth again.
When Mae pulled back, she said, “Play. Play for me, River.” Her hand went to her stomach. “For us.” Slipping from the bed, I took hold of my Fender and sat beside her. Mae lay against my shoulder and put her arm around my waist.
And I played. I played and sang until I took her again, face to face, staring into those fucking wolf eyes I loved so much.
The ones I was never letting go.
Not even for a fucking second.
Epilogue
Styx
The coast, Texas
One day later . . .
I watched as she ran over the sand toward the beach. The sun was setting and night was closing in. She glanced over her shoulder, smiling; then she looked back toward the sea. I inhaled drag after drag of my smoke and felt the fucking sand beneath my feet. I leaned against the porch post of the cabin we’d got for the week.
No club shit.
No people here but us.
Just me and Mae and the fucking sand and sea.
“What is the ocean like?” she’d asked months and months ago
. “What does the sand feel like on your feet? What does it feel like when the tide rushes over your bare legs?”
“It’s the ocean,” I’d said and shrugged.
“It is my dream to see it,” she’d said, lying on my chest. “I have read about it in books. It would be a dream come true to smell the salty air and walk on the golden sand.”
I knew I had to bring her here when Beauty started giving me shit about a honeymoon. A fucking honeymoon. I was the prez of a motherfucking outlaw MC. There were no fucking honeymoons to tropical islands. We had enemies sniffing the fuck around twenty-four-seven, waiting for a chance to strike. I had runs to make and guns to trade. But I could do this. Texas. Beach. Mae acting like I’d just given her the fucking sun.
“G-Get in the tr-truck,” I’d said to her this morning. “Got s-somewhere I wanna t-to show you.”
Mae came. Lilah had packed her bag and shit for the week. I just needed my cut, my shirt, and my jeans.
“Where are we going?” she’d asked.
“Just s-somewhere,” I’d replied, and I’d driven us the four hours it took to get here.
When I’d opened the door five minutes ago, the windscreen showing us nothing but a cabin and a private beach, Mae had gasped and stayed stock still in her seat. “Styx,” she’d whispered then opened the door of the truck and stepped outside. Her hands had covered her face, then dropped as she tipped her head back and closed her eyes as the breeze ran over her skin.
And then she was off. Running onto the sand, kicking her sandals to the side. She’d laughed aloud feeling the sand beneath her feet. And then she was running toward the rolling tide.
I’d followed and lit up a smoke, and here I was now.
A happy fucking scream came from Mae when the water ran over her feet. She was dressed in a long white dress, her black hair down. The wind kicked up the jet-black strands, and when she looked back at me, laughing and smiling with those pink lips I loved so much, her blue eyes shone brighter than I’d ever seen them before.
She stopped and held out her hand. Like a fucking moth to a motherfucking flame, I walked over the sand until I was beside her at the water’s edge. I wrapped my arms around her waist, and she fell back against me, covering my hands with her own.
“I cannot believe that you have given me this,” she whispered, her voice trembling as she watched the sun dip in the horizon.
“Yeah,” I rasped.
“You always give me my dreams, River. Everything. Every day is a blessing with you.” She turned in my arms. “Every day with you is a dream come true. I can scarcely believe this is my life.”
“Yeah,” I said again and kissed her lips.
When I broke away, Mae took my hand. “Shall we go into the cabin? I very much want to show you how much I love you. I want to show you how much I cherish you. And I want to make love to my husband, the one who gives me the world in ways I never believed were possible.”
Mae smiled, the wind blew her hair across those wolf-fucking-eyes I adored, and I simply answered, “Yeah.”
With her, it would always be motherfucking yeah.
The End
Pronunciation of Charon — (Care-RON), (Keir-RON) or (Kare-RON). Inspired by the Greek mythological boatman of the River Styx, not the moon of Pluto which is pronounced differently.
Up next . . . Crux Untamed (Hades Hangmen #6).
This is Elysia’s story (Ky’s sister).
As for her love interest . . . that’s a secret for now!
Hades Hangmen Series
It Ain’t Me, Babe (Hades Hangmen #1)
Heart Recaptured (Hades Hangmen #2)
Souls Unfractured (Hades Hangmen #3)
Deep Redemption (Hades Hangmen #4)
Damnable Grace (Hades Hangmen #5)
I Do, Babe: A Novella (Hades Hangmen #5.5)
Upcoming Hades Hangmen Novels
Crux Untamed (Hades Hangmen #6)
Darkness Embraced (Hades Hangmen #7)
And many more…
Playlist
It Ain’t Me, Babe — Jonny Cash
I Hope That I Don’t Fall In Love With You — 10,000 Maniacs
Lemon Drop — Pistol Annies
On That Day — Asgeir
I Shall Cross This River — The Black Atlantic
Boys From The South — Pistol Annies
Time After Time — Iron & Wine
Dream In Blue — The Stray Birds
Sweetly — The Show Ponies
Dreams — Caroline Glaser
You and Me — You+Me
Can I Be Him — James Arthur
Falling — Joshua Radin
Tomorrow Never Comes (Acoustic Version) — Zac Brown Band
Home Is In Your Arms — The White Buffalo
Bride — San Fermin
Dance With Me — Jaye Bartell
First Time Ever I Saw Your Face — Jonny Cash
I Won’t Back Down — Jonny Cash
Last But Not Least — Zac Brown Band
To listen to this playlist click here
Acknowledgements
Mam and Dad, thank you for all the support. Thank you to my husband, Stephen, for keeping me sane. Samantha, Marc, Taylor, Isaac, Archie, and Elias, love you all.
Thessa, thank you for being the best assistant in the world. You make the best edits, keep me organized and are one kick ass friend to boot!
Liz, thank you for being my super-agent and friend.
To my fabulous editor, Stephanie. I couldn’t have done it without you.
To my trusted beta readers, you did it again. Thank you!
Neda and Ardent PRose, I am so happy that I jumped on board with you guys. You’ve made my life infinitely more organized. You kick PR ass!
To my Hangmen Harem, I couldn’t ask for better book friends, thank you for all for everything you do for me.
My Flame Whores, you make each day that little bit more special. Thank you.
Jenny and Gitte—you know how I feel about you two ladies. Love you to bits! I truly value everything you’ve done for me over the years, and continue to do!
Thank you to all the AMAZING bloggers that have supported my career from the start and the ones who help share my work and shout about it from the rooftops.
Thank you to all my wonderful author friends. It would be a scary world without you to lean on. And lastly, thank you to the readers. Without you none of this would be possible.
Live Free. Ride Free. Die Free!
Author Biography
Tillie Cole hails from a small town in the North-East of England. She grew up on a farm with her English mother, Scottish father and older sister and a multitude of rescue animals. As soon as she could, Tillie left her rural roots for the bright lights of the big city.
After graduating from Newcastle University with a BA Hons in Religious Studies, Tillie followed her Professional Rugby player husband around the world for a decade, becoming a teacher in between and thoroughly enjoyed teaching High School students Social Studies before putting pen to paper, and finishing her first novel.
Tillie has now settled in Austin, Texas, where she is finally able to sit down and write, throwing herself into fantasy worlds and the fabulous minds of her characters.
Tillie is both an independent and traditionally published author, and writes many genres including: Contemporary Romance, Dark Romance, Young Adult and New Adult novels.
When she is not writing, Tillie enjoys nothing more than curling up on her couch watching movies, drinking far too much coffee, while convincing herself that she really doesn’t need that extra square of chocolate.
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