33. CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Dahlia

W hen Tyler and I plotted against Johnathan, both of us had our own set of ideas. Fun ideas. Creative ones.

There were a few things we agreed on right from the start. Johnathan to hurt. Badly.

He wanted to kill us.

And no one touches what's ours.

Eventually, we reached something better than a compromise. We came up with an epic punishment for our stalker. Something fitting. Something that'd make him cry for his mommy.

"Fuck," he mumbles. Tries to break through the restraints that bind him to the chair. Winces. Groans. "Everything hurts."

"Of course, it would, John-John." I grab him by the hair.

"What?"

Tyler's at his other side, his arms crossed over his chest. He tilts his head, my man in the black mask. Tells me to go on without a single word passing through his gorgeous, hidden lips.

"You have a rope tied around you. Tight around the burn mark from Tyler." I return my attention to the loser at hand, pushing his head low. "Here, look."

As if the gruesome sight of the blisters on his stomach and the rope glued to them isn't enough, Tyler joins the party. He slides his hand around the rope from the back.

And pulls.

"Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Johnathan's head tries to fling back, forgetting he's in my grip. His body rattles. His breath stutters. "Fuck, let me go."

"Baby, he's being obnoxiously loud." My pout can be heard from behind the mask. "We have to do something or someone will hear him."

"Heeeeel—" Johnathan starts.

Tyler doesn't let him finish, pressing duct tape to Johnathan's mouth.

We could have done it earlier, but why miss out on the fun of giving him hope just to have it ripped away?

"No one's coming for you." I lower my head, tilting it to the side. Through my rabbit's mask, I watch Johnathan's eyes widen. Gaping at me in horror. "No one."

"Would anyone even care?" Tyler strokes my hair. His voice is rough, his touch comforting and possessive. "Would your coworkers notice you gone? Your family? Any of your fake friends? "

At the mention of his previous life—because that's what it is, and he's never getting it back—a sense of entitlement fills Johnathan's eyes.

"Privileged rich boy here is delusional." I've lost interest in Johnathan's hair. I release my grip, wiping my hands on my apron with the spider pattern. Tyler dons an identical one. A gift from me. "Your money won't help you. No one will. We aren't helpless like your other helpless."

"See, this isn't our first rodeo." Tyler's done wasting time. He stomps on Johnathan's barefoot, and the contact with my baby's boot creates a yummy crack sound, followed by a muted scream. "Meaning you're fucked."

Johnathan squeals. Shakes. Moves his leg in his feeble attempt to get from under Tyler.

Doesn't puke yet, though. What a disappointment.

The shaking starts. No big surprise there. It's cold and we stripped him down to his briefs. I hope the humiliation will enhance his experience with us.

"Little savage." Tyler twists his foot on top of Johnathan's. The tip of his boot goes left, right, left, right. Crack, crunch, crack, crunch. "Want to start working on the ice cream scoop?"

The way he says it. So Tyler-like. Demanding yet not ordering. Dominating without being a controlling dick.

Fuck, I love this man. Would do anything for him.

Anything other than give him permission to touch another woman. Not like he'd ask. Ty would never.

"Coming right up, lover. "

As I whip around to the table, a fresh sound of cracking starts. I glance over my shoulder, giggling as I watch Tyler crushing Johnathan's other foot.

My man hums "The Final Zepp" by Charlie Clouser, as in the theme music for Saw . From him, it sounds as if it were a Christmas carol. Jolly. Creepy.

The chills it gives me reach to the hot spot between my thighs. I shiver.

Then I join him, humming along to the tune as I grab the metal ice cream scoop. The stove in this room is already on. Red, yellow, and blue flames flicker ominously. Expecting me.

"Ladies, do your thing."

The flames do indeed listen. They turn the metal round edge of the scoop a shade darker. Tyler sharpened it this week while I was serving the last of my customers.

He had to. Otherwise, how would we be able to slice through Johnathan's skin? Or dig the scoop into his flesh?

Exactly. We'd have failed.

"Dahlia." Tyler's hands are at my waist. His mask grazes mine where our cheeks touch. His body heat bleeds into mine. "You ready?"

His hard cock makes me wonder what kind of ready he's talking about.

"Ready to hurt him," he answers my unspoken question.

Although his words mean one thing, Tyler's hand on my breast suggests another. That's as far as his sexy suggestion goes, though. Tyler spins us both to face Johnathan, guiding me forward until we hover over our target .

Johnathan doesn't stop quivering and shaking. Tears brim in his eyes. Snot leaks from his nose. When I look down at his feet, I marvel at Tyler's handiwork.

Each broken toe rests on the black tarp beneath it at a different angle. They've gone limp, crooked. The tops of his feet aren't any better. On the left one, a bone sticks out.

"You've been busy, boyfriend." I can't stop myself. Can't help but push my ass back and grind myself on Tyler's groin. "My turn."

"It is." Tyler nudges me forward. "Do your worst, beautiful."

I do.

Johnathan's skin bends when I dip the scoop into his bicep.

Then it breaks.

Blood drips from his arm. There's a tiny bit of resistance, but I'm not a quitter. Not me. I keep going, ignoring the flex of Johnathan's biceps. Dig deeper. Giggle louder.

"Good girl." Tyler pinches my nipple over my apron. "I'm getting so hard watching you. So fucking hard, baby."

Another surge of white, gooey snot runs down Johnathan's nose and over the duct tape. His useless pleas, nothing but incoherent mumbles, will forever remain lodged down his throat.

Mimicking the movement of scooping ice cream, I spin my wrist to the right. Apply pressure on Johnathan's arm that won't stop shaking.

One.

Two .

Three.

A crescent-shaped cut appears on Johnathan's bicep.

"Holy shit," I yelp. "I'm doing this."

"Yes, you are, little savage." Tyler isn't just standing there. His arms don't just hug me. He's this dark, supportive entity. Enveloping me. Loving me. "I could fuck you, if you'd like. Could shove my cock in your ass and fuck you so hard while you hurt him. I'll make you feel so good."

I believe him. I also remember how much he wanted this. How furious he'd been on my behalf, that someone would even dream of touching a hair on my head.

He deserves this revenge.

That's why I don't tell Tyler to fuck me. Instead, I dig deeper into Johnathan's flesh, ignoring the resistance his body puts up.

I have to go faster. It's easier to carve through flesh when the metal is at a scalding temperature. So I spin and spin and spin my wrist until I create a full circle.

Until the only thing I have left to do is bend my elbow and scoop up Johnathan's flesh.

Ta da!

His scream almost rips through the duct tape. I ignore him, tuning into Tyler's feral groans that reverberate in his chest. My eyes are on the contents of the ice cream scoop. The red flesh and muscles that used to be inside Johnathan's body.

Used to. In the past tense.

Blob is the sound my gory ice cream makes as it lands on the tarp .

"You're not done, Dahl." Tyler's fingers roam across my belly. Then he lets me go, his arm gesturing for the table. "Be my good little girl and let me do what we planned."

Excitement and arousal flare through me as I pick up a chip from the table. A chip that once belonged inside Tyler's gaming console.

"You wanted a piece of us." A chuckle erupts in my chest. "You're about to get it, John-John."

Tyler's hand is on my arm, rubbing my elbow. I know it's his way of staying put, of not mauling me.

With so much adrenaline pumping through us, it's a wonder we're not fucking already. That he doesn't take without asking.

"Mmmm! Mmmmm!" Same muted begging sounds the rest of them make.

"Here." I push the chip into the hollow part I left in Johnathan's bicep.

Mercilessly so.

"You don't get to kill my Tyler."

Johnathan's muscles put up quite the fight. I'm equally relentless. Squish. Squash. There, it's in, the black sticking out in the sea of red.

"You never fucking will. You do get a consolation prize. How'd you like that?"

Johnathan's gurgling. Sobbing. His muscles flex, fighting the shock. Fighting his restraints as they thrust his body forward and back. Trying to free their owner, to release him from this hell he's in .

"You're making it worse for yourself." Tyler's voice booms, despite how quiet he's being. He has this quality about him. This commanding aura. It's intoxicating. It's mine.

"Not like we give a damn." I giggle.

"Let me have the scoop." His hand covers the top of mine, and my fingers open for him. Allowing him to take our murder weapon for the night. "Good girl, Dahlia."

We stand there, watching the chip poking out of Johnathan's arm a while longer.

"Such a good girl." He nods and sets for the stove.

I miss his warmth at my side, miss his hands on me. I don't go to him, though. Don't rub myself all over his back or climb him like I want to.

"Mmmm!"

This. The screaming, tortured man is what's important. The knowledge that Tyler will soon be back to avenge me—that's also important.

Moreover, the sooner we're done, the sooner he'll fuck me.

Can't wait.

"The burn mark on your stomach was only the appetizer." Tyler spanks my ass as he crosses the room to Johnathan.

I burst out laughing, and he turns his head to me. One of Tyler's brown eyes disappears for a fleeting moment. The moment he winks at me.

"A decent appetizer. For me, that is." He whirls the ice cream scoop in front of Johnathan's face. "Since the wound in your body will make this hurt so much more."

It looks almost as though Johnathan's eyes are going to bulge out and hop, hop, hop to the floor. A lot of people get that. I have no idea why some slam them shut or some open them so huge. Neither option is going to save them.

It never saved me. Only Ian had. And Tyler. And me. I saved myself.

Anyhow, the eye thing? Never helps.

Especially not to Johnathan. Tyler aims the scoop at one of the blisters on his abdomen. To a space the rope doesn't cover.

My love doesn't hesitate. He doesn't linger.

The ice cream scoop dives as deep as it'll go. Tyler puts everything into it. Even a part of the handle disappears in Johnathan's stomach. That's how forceful Tyler push is.

"You could've threatened me ." Tyler's whispers are loud in our small torture chamber.

Johnathan's screams behind the tape aren't.

"That would've been fine. I've had other dipshits threaten me over the years." Tyler's attention on Johnathan's bulging eyes is fleeting. He gazes at me. Sends a message to me . "My woman, though?"

Left, right. Left, right. Left, right. Johnathan's head shakes furiously, a feeble attempt to convince us that Tyler has it all wrong.

"Stalking her bakery while I'd been home, working?"

Johnathan stares directly at me when Tyler starts with the circular motion. Begging for mercy.

Lame .

"Don't you dare look at her." Tyler's voice cracks at the last word. He grips Johnathan's chin. "You look at me when I'm talking to you."

While I enjoy toying with my targets, Tyler isn't as playful.

After our encounter in the baking room, nothing about Johnathan amuses Tyler.

"You bragged about raping her." A touch of crazy slips into Ty's voice.

No, that's not the correct description.

A touch is way too subtle. There's a whole fucking lot of crazy there. His neck muscles bulge as well, meaning he's really angry. Meaning the circle he's carving inside Johnathan's stomach will have an impressive circumference.

What Tyler has set on the other stove will hurt Johnathan far more than anything we've already put him through.

"You deserve worse." I'm used to abuse, cruelty, and other scary things. None of them are half as intimidating as Tyler's vibrant, deranged energy. "You deserve us spending days"—Tyler flips his wrist, scoops a small chunk of Johnathan's intestines, and flings it behind his back—" months even, of us torturing you. You don't touch what's mine. Don't threaten what's mine."

Johnathan's conscious one moment, gone the next.

"Rude, John-John." I slap one cheek. The other. "You don't get to sleep. Tyler's talking to you."

The coward doesn't stir. While Tyler's tossing another red, bleeding piece of flesh to the tarp, I saunter over to a shelf above the table. I lean forward and rise on my toes until I have what I need.

My butane torch.

Johnathan might not wake up from Tyler's continuous torture of his intestines. This sharp pain should do the trick.

I aim it at his temple, press my thumb to the button at the back, and—

"Mmmm!"

"That's more like it." I click the button a second time, for no reason but for my own entertainment. He cries. I smile. "You brought this on yourself. Where are your manners? My boyfriend has a lot of things to say to you and you fall asleep like that?"

"Fiancé," Tyler corrects me.

My heart stutters. Hops in its cage. Stops abruptly. Despite what I have to tell Tyler later, this seems bigger. Heavier. But not better. Just as great.

"You haven't asked, Ty."

He tilts his face up. The brown in his eyes is once more these dangerously seductive swamps. There's so much hiding inside them. Creepy.

Delightful.

"I didn't realize I had to."

Johnathan's body rattles. Tyler carves through his flesh, tossing it in Johnathan's face while his eyes are glued to mine. "I love you. You're mine. I decided you'll be my wife, so that's what's going to happen. End of story. "

This isn't a Hallmark moment we're having. Tyler in his black, terrifying mask. His need for revenge and slaughter and sex bleeds through his pores.

And me, in my freaky rabbit mask. Enjoying the fuck out of myself for abusing the man who threatened Tyler.

No, this moment isn't anything remotely sweet and fuzzy. Other people would be traumatized for life just from hearing about what Ty and I are doing here.

Fuck other people.

I've just been forced into this engagement, into a promise for eternity with my soulmate.

This is the second happiest moment of my life.

"The first one was today when I noticed my period was two days late." I finish the thought in my head out loud. "I waited to tell you that after tonight, except now I—"

A feral, barely human growl. It makes my toes curl and my knees weak. With another final movement, Tyler finishes up the circular shape in Johnathan's stomach. He discards the bleeding flesh and ice cream scoop.

"You could be pregnant." Both his hands lift my mask, shoving it to the top of my head. He raises his hand soon after and cups my cheeks. His hands are bloody. I don't care. "You could be pregnant."

"Mmmm! Mmmm!"

" We could be." Stupid tears burn the corners of my eyes. I blink them away. "Are you happy?"

Tyler holds his breath. His fingers bruise my flesh. They dive lower, to my throat. His hand on my scars and snake tattoo squeezes tight. He doesn't hate the tattoo anymore, that's what his grip says. He owns it. Owns my past, my present, my future.

Other than that, I can't read him.

I don't have to.

He attacks my mouth. He's never kissed me like this before. Hunger and need are there, sure. But this, it's something else.

Desperation. Adoration. Boundless love that stretches for miles and miles on end. Crosses oceans, leaps into the depths of hell, and climbs back stronger than ever.

This is how much Tyler loves me. This is how happy he is.

"Over the goddamn moon, little savage." Sweet pain shoots through me from the harsh tug of his teeth on my lip. "Even if you're not, I'm still happy. Just by having you in my life. Now this. God. Fuck. I've never been happier in my life."

I gulp. Blink. No words come out. They're all lodged in my throat.

I'm choking.

"You want to help me wrap this up?" Tyler jerks his head back, gesturing to Johnathan. "So I can eat your pretty pussy out, then fuck a sibling into that womb?"

"Then we'll do it all over at home?"

"I'll spoil you rotten, that's what we'll do at home."

"Mmm!"

"Want to sit this one out, love?" His gaze slides to my stomach. "Get some rest? "

I want to help him. I do. We're such a great team. The best. Except, there's something else. "Can I do this one thing while you dunk him in hot chocolate?"

Tyler pauses. Silence overtakes the room. Well, we're silent. Johnathan makes these gross, unattractive noises.

"You sure you're up for it?"

"Absolutely." I open my palm, facing up.

Tyler doesn't have to look down to know I'm asking for the ice cream scoop.

He just does.

He places it in my hand, adjusts the mask back on my face, and lowers his. "Go crazy, little one."

The words Thank you are too small. Too silly. They're unnecessary between us.

I don't say them. I fold my arms around Ty. Hold him tight. Purr when he strokes my hair. He waits for me while I heat the ice cream scoop, then grabs the silver bowl and carries the chocolate to Johnathan. I follow close behind.

"Sorry to have kept you waiting." Tyler isn't sorry in the slightest. He adjusts the bowl over the bleeding circle he carved into Johnathan's stomach. "My future wife could be pregnant. I had to kiss her. Speaking of Dahlia."

Tyler gazes at me. The look in his eyes heats up every inch of me. From the tips of my toes up to my eyeballs.

"Here's a piece of her . Not the piece you've been meaning to steal—you can't get her pussy or her life." Hot, liquid chocolate pours out of the bowl and into Johnathan's body. "But she did make this hot chocolate. Enjoy, fucker. "

Johnathan's agony is evident. I give him less than a minute to seize, faint, then die.

"Time's running out," I sing-song in a cheery voice as I dig the ice cream scoop into Johnathan's cheek. "You'll be dead soon. Still, I have to try this. You understand, don't you?"

Understanding seems to be beyond Johnathan at the moment. Tyler's still pouring hot chocolate onto the man's open wound. I'm carving out his cheek to see how fast I can get to his teeth. And he's in the middle, taking and taking and taking until he's gone.

Johnathan's chin dips, his head lulling down. Lifeless.

"At least I got to see his teeth." I rip off my mask, smiling brilliantly at Tyler. I don't mind the puke that's leaking from Johnathan's hollowed cheek. Of course, I don't. I've been expecting it.

"I'm into seeing something else." The empty silver bowl drops in a clatter on the floor. "Oh, and Dahlia?"

"Yes?" I breathe. Barely.

"Not a peep out of you about skinning the warm body." Tyler rounds the chair dead Johnathan occupies. "Not. A. Peep. You hear me?"

"Y-yes."

Body? What body? I only have eyes for Tyler. For my fiancé in his most feral form. My man reminds me of a dangerous predator. His shoulders are squared, hands balled into fists.

He's coming for me .

Instinct dictates my moves. I step back, back, back while Tyler prowls forward. He pushes his mask up his face, shrugging his coat off.

My nipples pull tight. The constant need for him rises in my belly, catching at my throat. The fear of him makes the room hotter. My desire for Tyler is greater.

When he's close, he lowers my mask back in its place. Doesn't say a word for five full breaths.

"Ty?"

"Lean against the wall." He drops to his knees before me. "I need to lick you more than I need air, little savage. I can't fucking think straight."

I do as he says. Breathless. Limbless. In love.

The button and zipper of my jeans pose no obstacle to him. The fact that my jeans are skin-tight is no issue, either. He yanks them down to my knees in less than a second.

"No panties." His gaze darts up to meet my eyes. "You like being filthy, Mrs. Price?"

Oh, fuck. I used to have a brain. I used to have clever retorts. None of it is left. Nothing when he calls me this.

"I do." I'm breathless. Terribly happy too. "Husband."

Tyler groans when he hears the title husband . His fingers part my lips and his mouth and tongue are on me.

Technically, he's not my husband yet. Neither of us minds the minor oversight. Just like we don't care that I might get my cycle any second with his mouth on my pussy.

He's eating me like he's been starved for decades. Like he's never done this before .

His tongue is hot and his lips are demanding, and in a few short minutes, I'm pulsing and shaking and screaming his name.

"Please, Tyler. Please."

The room is dark. It's filled with light. Maybe both. I can't be sure. I see flashes and hearts. I see Tyler removing my sneakers and tugging on my jeans and socks until they're gone.

"Tell me you're hungry for my cum." Tyler pushes a knee to my pussy, holding my spent body up that way. He covers one of my hands with his, yanking it to the button of his jeans. No belt today, thank fuck. "Take me out and tell me you're hungry for my cum, Dahlia."

Adrenaline, fear, and lust flow through my veins, drowning me in them. Tremors break through my body. My hands shake.

But nothing—and I mean nothing —will stop me from taking what's mine. From being Tyler's.

"I'm hungry, Tyler." I snap his button open, lowering his zipper. My knuckles graze his jeans, feeling his hard cock as I go. "So hungry."

"Hungry for what?" His fingers squeeze my chin. Tyler holds my mask up and brings his face closer so that his lips brush mine when he talks. "Tell me, pretty girl, what are you hungry for?"

"I'm hungry for your cock." I pull it out, stroking the long, thick, and silky dick with my hand. "Hungry for this."

"Close." Tyler's teeth are clenched. He's hanging by a thread. I want him to snap. "I don't remember—Fuck," he curses when I rub his precum down his length. Slams his free hand on the wall beside my head. My mask drops into place out of nowhere, and he squeezes my chin tighter. "Fuck, Dahlia. Be a good fucking girl and say it already."

"Your cum."

He kicks my legs wider.

"I want your cum, Tyler."

He bats my hand away, spins me to face the wall. One hand on my face, pushing me against the wall. Crumpling my mask. The other grabs his cock so he can nudge the thick head into me.

"So wet." We stare at each other, breathing hard. "Beautiful girl with a tight, wet cunt. Tell me you want my cum again."

Tyler tortures me. Slipping the tip in and out. In and out. The pressure he has on my face turns me on even more. He's fierce and feral and the pain he inflicts makes me heady.

Makes me painfully desperate.

"Tyler."

He shifts his hand lower. Lets me have a better look at his mask. "Say it."

"I want your cum, Tyler." I'm not really breathing. I'm inhaling Tyler into my soul. Into my bloodstream. Embedding each shadow, each spark in his eyes—each breath he takes—into memory. "I want it in me so bad, I'll go crazy without it."

"That's my good girl." There's no warning before he slams into me. No warning at all. "My"— thrust —"little"— spank, spank, spank —"cum slut."

Being degraded by Tyler equals to being loved, adored and worshipped by him. It's being the center of his attention. It's knowing nothing exists other than us. That nothing can hurt us or separate us.

I can be his cum slut. I'll be his—

"My depraved girl." The pressure on my face intensifies. I welcome it. Welcome every piece of Tyler. "My whore. Mine. I fucking love you."

"I love you." I smile. I cry. I'm about to come again.

"You're dripping all over my cock. Making such a mess, D." Tyler's cock pounds into me. Hits my G-spot. On a mission to reach my womb while he spanks me raw. "Even your pussy is being such a good girl for me. Begging for me."

No words come to me. None. Instead, darkness overtakes me. I'm trembling and quivering and entirely Tyler's. I'm so his that I don't want to be mine ever again.

"I'm going to come." Both his hands have moved to my hips. His fingers sink in a punishing grip. "I'm going to come inside you, and you'll take every drop."

"Plea—" I don't make it to the end. I come. This is unlike any other I've ever had before and I'm drowning in it. Blissfully. Willingly. I let it whisk me under.

Tyler doesn't let me disappear into the darkness.

He's there, holding me tighter while I lose myself to him. Wakes me up with brutal thrusts while he chases his own orgasm and shoots his cum deep inside me. He bucks his hips, emptying himself inside me.

This is happiness. This is what living means.

"My wife." One arm around my stomach, a hand around my neck. That's how he pulls me up to him .

Tyler twists me to face him, grabbing me by the neck. He tears my mask away, his lips delivering kiss after kiss.

And between those, he doesn't stop saying, "My wife. My wife. My wife. My wife."

Three hours later, we're out in the street. Turns out that even if a body is cold, two people can still make it work without it taking forever.

Two people who really want to get home. To sleep in each other's arms and not leave the bed for the next twenty-four hours.

That's us. We're these people.

"You're lost in your head, little one."

We're nearing our apartment building, wearing our masks. Tyler has his arm draped possessively around my shoulders. Kids and adults in costumes are still everywhere. It's safe.

"Thinking about carrots." I twist to Tyler, looking up at him through my creepy rabbit eyes. Even creepy rabbits have to be fed, I think. "Always carrots."

His black mask hides Tyler's face. He's smiling, though. I feel it. "Is carrots a code word for cock?"

Before I have a chance to tell him that yes, yes, it is, and also, yes, I'd very much like him to feed it to me every minute of every hour of the day, we're being stopped by two people.

Teenagers in Gomez and Morticia Addams costumes. Their makeup is on point, the outfits too. They've been walking in our direction, holding hands, and now they just stand in front of us.

Tyler's grip on me tightens. He bristles, primed to murder them if either of them so much as makes the wrong move.

"Hi, excuse me, I was wondering—" the girl starts.

Tyler growls. I'm pretty sure he hasn't even heard what she said. He just growls. Possessive, over the top, and hot. That's my man.

"Hey, no need to get defensive." The Gomez guy takes a step forward, protecting his Morticia. "We wanted to say your masks are cool. We were supposed to go as serial killers this year, except we didn't find anything good enough."

"Ty." I nudge his side. "They're asking where we got the masks."

Tyler's violent energy doesn't diminish at Gomez's explanation or mine. It's hot. It's also not the kids' fault that Tyler's still wired from murdering Johnathan and fucking me like crazy.

The teenagers stay in place. I guess they're really curious about the masks. I don't tell them getting them won't do them any good. Tyler and I are the ones that bring them to life. The serial killer inside us, that's what does it.

"Hey." I pinch his waist. Then I giggle, thinking how awesome it is to wear these masks and show the world our true faces.

My laugh brings Tyler back from his fight-or-fight-harder mode. He tilts his head, his dark eyes gazing at me through the thin slits of his black mask. "You were saying? "

"Where'd you get the masks? They want to dress up as serial killers next year."

"That." He huffs a laugh. The things that run in my head most probably run in his too.

He squeezes my arm and tells them where they can find our masks.

Then we keep walking home, where my man loves, protects me, and cherishes me forever.

For fucking ever.