Ryder knew she was a demon. Once Ax possessed her body, mind and soul she felt darker. More mature. As she stared at her reflection in the mirror she knew that she was no longer the young girl she once was. She was now a woman. Controlled by a demon. Possessed by him.

In life, Ax was everything she could have hoped for in a man. Before he turned demon, went to hell and came back to possess her.

He was tall. With wavy, dark hair and the brightest blue eyes. He was a man who knew what a woman wanted. And he was a man that every woman desired. Strong, muscular forearms, a lean waistline and tight, sculpted abs.

It’s what drew her to him in the first place. When she spotted him atop that mounted steed, charging toward her as if he wanted to own her even then, long before he turned demon. Long before he controlled her from within.

As he rode up to her, his tight abs glistening under the fine layer of sweat that covered his shirtless chest, she could barely find her breath. His eyes were penetrating. She knew what he wanted. She knew what she wanted to give him. And that was herself. Completely. Right there. Right then. With the whole world as their audience.

But it wasn’t because of his piercing blue eyes. It wasn’t because of those strong hands that could rein that horse in, the fiery beast that held him aloft. It was his abs.

As she cautiously approached him, mounted so high above her, she could barely contain the trembling in her body. She knew he saw this. This weakness in her knees, the lust in her gaze.

When he reached down and with one swift motion pulled her onto the horse behind him, and began to ride off, she had no questions. She just knew she was right where she wanted to be. Pressed tightly against his back. With her arms wrapped around his hairless chest, her fingers playing lightly across his tight, tight abs.

She wanted him like she wanted no other man. She removed her arms from around his waist, mindful of the fact that she could easily tumble off the speeding horse beneath her. But she didn’t care. She would rather risk death than wrap her arms around his slick waist and touch the rippling and dancing abs as he pressed the horse onward.

Because she knew that if she were to grip him for even one second longer she couldn’t restrain herself. She would lose complete control. Her hands would act of their own accord. Pressing and kneading and testing the hard muscles just beneath the skin. Tracing each indentation between each bulging muscle of those flexing abs.

With each stride of the horse, his abs would flex. She knew it without even touching him. She could see them even with her eyes closed. She was lost. Captivated. Forever bound to him because of his abs.

He quickly noticed the absence of her hands and he reached back with one arm and pulled her heaving bosom against his back, wrapping first one, then the other arm back around him. He used his large strong fist to capture both of her hands in his, and he pressed them tightly against his six pack.

He flattened her fingers and moved her hands up and down his slippery skin, forcing her to feel his rippling muscles. And soon her hands moved of their own desire, wanting to memorize each line, each muscle, each movement.

He turned his head and whispered quietly, a whisper that almost disappeared in the wind with the speed at which they rode – “My abs are yours. Forever. I want you to feel them. Touch them.”