Riding The Headless Horseman (Sexy Sleepy Hollow, #1)

by Molly Likovich

Because most people don’t want real magic. They don’t want the grit and grime that comes along with such an arcane practice. Their hearts can’t handle the darkness that even the brightest magic can cause.

Thank god I wasn’t alive in the 17th century. Hell, even if I was alive in the 80s the Satanic Panic would’ve for sure landed my ass in jail.

She runs from me, but now that I’ve got her scent, she will never be able to hide.

Stop moving, little mortal. I do not wish to punish you. Just obey me.

He may not be endowed with a head but he clearly makes up for it in…other departments. Out of all the things I would’ve guessed this malevolent presence (that evidently has been plaguing our town for centuries) would want to do with me, getting it on would’ve been very low on the list.

An eight-foot-tall man clad all in black, muscles so big that his clothes stretch taut across his body, and nothing but that goddamn pumpkin on his shoulders.

“What do I call you?” I whisper, growing breathless, my eyes still closed. “Master.”

I remain seated, tits out, before The Headless Horseman. Weirdest Halloween yet, that’s for sure.

I’m aroused by a monster from legend. Figures. “Yes,” Arletta,” he growls. “I have every intention of fucking you relentlessly tonight.”

“Your soul is vibrant, startlingly so. I want you with or without your magic. I want you because I can see all of you and I can feel that you are meant to be my companion. My mate. I’ve isolated myself for a long time. That ends tonight.”

“Please,” I moan. “Please make me come.” He slows his movements and I practically growl from frustration. He laughs. Cocky bastard. “Try that again, my sweet thing.” “Please make me come, Master.” “Good girl.”

Let it hereby be known that I, Arletta Harrington, may not have believed in Death, or soul mates, or destiny, but I have always believed in love. True, pure, passionate love.