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“You realize she’s going to bite your dick off the first chance she gets, right?”
watch in a daze as my future wife turns a shit situation into solid gold. And for the first time, I realize two things.
One, Neve is a fucking force to be reckoned with. She’s bold. She’s tough. And she’s ballsy. And two, all of that is a serious turn on. I’m so fucked.
“You know, in ancient Greece, men would often get their wives through the spoils of war—conquering them and fucking them for the first time on the very battlefield where their kin had just been slain.”
“And in old Celtic culture, women would geld the men who tried to lay hands on them without their permission.” I flash him a winning smile. “Just food for thought.”
“You know hangovers are like women, right?”
“Best way to get over one is to get under a new one.”
“Like any good true Irishman, I’m a fuckin’ poet when I’m in my cups.”
“This isn’t real between us, Ares!”
“Relax. She’s not my type, anyway.”
I march over and pour myself a small glass of whiskey, neat. It’s not like I’m an alcoholic and I “need” a drink. But, I mean…right now…
“This may have started as a political alignment. But make no fucking mistake,” he rasps.
“You’re fucking mine, Neve,”
“And you can go ahead and warn any man you see not to even fucking look at you. They’d damn well better fucking listen. Because if they don’t?”
“If they don’t,” he snarls, I’ll put a hole through their chests and fuck you in front of them while they bleed out, so their last goddamn thoughts on this earth are knowing how fucking MINE you are.”
“Come for me,” he rasps into my ear. “Come for me knowing I’ll burn the goddamn world down just to have you in the ashes.”
“Come for me knowing I’ll fucking kill for you. But most of all, Neve,” he snarls, ramming his cock so fucking deep that I crash over the edge.
“Come for me because you’re fucking mine.”
“Woah! WOAH, man! Chill! I’m not gay or any—”