There comes a day when everyone has to face what's inside of them. Every evil, every trespass, every last damn sin.

Today, for you, is not that day. Today, darling, is the day to face who's inside of you, as the sweat cools off your body in the hot Virginia sun.

Everyone meets their angel, or their devil, depending on just how shot through with vice they are, and for you, your reckoning had come on the side of a road, dust billowing behind a bike and the roar of an engine purring to a halt beside you. And me, eyes black as night, a leather jacket thrown open to the world and the smell of something burning not far behind.

Now, some guardian angels are pretty shit. And some devils ain't quite so vicious, but always worse. But me... Me. Well, I was bad. As dark as your wildest dreams, with a smoky-voiced Southern twang hinting around my words, and what words those were. Enough to make you blush, as I led you behind the shade tree and kissed you, until the thoughts bled from your mind in the heat of me and the feel of fire on your skin, until you could just feel how bad you wanted it.

And Lord, did I give it to you. Fingers buried in your hair, a hand around your throat, my hips slamming like an iron pile into the sweet, soft cushion of your ass. You could almost smell the sulfur, but it tasted so sweet, salt on your lips and strong hands on your hips. Again and again, until that hot seed had poured inside you. Once, twice; it didn't matter. Your thoughts had slipped your mind, until at last I had grunted and forced you to the grass, falling atop you and taking you in my arms with nary a stop along the way.

You fell, you know. Fell to sin and sweet-talk. I know what you're thinking, thoughts of damnation and hellfire swirling. Angels might be bad, sometimes, but devils, well... they're always worse, and you've sinned good and hard. My whispers to come with me, I know, fall on fallen ears.

Just to tell you, honey... I am your guardian angel.

And there's a storm coming for your soul.

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