S.T. Gibson

Magdalena sighed into my kiss and I knew I would kill for her, die for her, do it all over again and then some.

Laying with her made me feel so vibrantly alive. It was almost enough to make me forget that I was already dead

tender and brutal in equal measure,

“So determined to live,” you breathed, as though you were witnessing something holy, as though I was a miracle.

You ran your hands over my slick skin and made a sound like a man agonized. I knew then I would chase your tiny moments of weakness all the way into hell and back.

“I am firm, my lady, and I understand leverage. The people only call me cruel because it is easier to think of a woman as cruel than competent. Surely, you can understand that.”

“You must never overthink any good and pleasurable thing,”

“We should never deny ourselves any pleasure in this life.”

I wanted the moment to last forever: just her and I trapped in a small, perfect eternity of pleasure.
Laying with her made me feel so vibrantly alive. It was almost enough to make me forget that I was already dead.

It was never my intention to murder you.
Not in the beginning, anyway.