Page 57 of A Dance Macabre

If this is what it tastes like to die, then there is a reason why I worship the god of death.

Pulling away, Wolfgang sits on his knees, concealing a flinch from what is still a bleeding wound on his thigh. I move to touch it, compelled by some uncontrollable tenderness, but he slaps my hand away.

“Don’t,” he growls while he tugs his suit jacket off, revealing a tattered white shirt underneath. “Not now.”

Out of spite, I push a thumb into the gash and Wolfgang hisses loudly before his hand wraps around my throat, slamming me back down onto the cold marble, the rings from my chainmail corset digging into my skin. “Hateful little thing,” he seethes, ripping my thong off with his other hand, his face inches from mine. “You deserve nothing but misery.”

“You make me sick,” I spit, my nails digging into his hand. But the more he squeezes the air out of my lungs, his fingers wrapped tightly around my neck, the more my legs open for his forceful touch, my thighs wet with arousal. Keeping me pinned down, his arm fully extended, he unbuttons his pants and shoves them down just enough to free his cock.

“If I am your sickness, my ruin,” he groans through clenched teeth, looming darkly over me, his disheveled hair falling overhis wild eyes while the head of his cock notches against my slick entrance, “Then you are mine.”

He slams into me in one powerful thrust, my head hitting the floor beneath me as a long keening moan escapes my lips.

“Fuck,” Wolfgang says under his breath, his head falling into the crook of my neck as he stills inside of me for a few shaky exhales. “Fuck,” he repeats, this time much more harshly. When he begins to piston into me with hard, punishing strokes, I feel myself drench around him, soaking his cock with the gut-wrenching pleasure of finally having him inside of me.

He releases my neck and pushes himself up on one elbow, his dark gaze now scorching before he captures my mouth with his again. Bending one of my legs upward, he opens me wider, deepening the angle of his thrusts while the heel of my stiletto digs into his ass. My whimper is brimming with need as I bite his bottom lip until the taste of his blood is back on my tongue where it belongs. We both seem to have lost all manner of speaking, victims of the one thing we swore we’d never desire.

Each other.

With every mind-melting glide of his cock, I turn more desperate, ripping open his buttoned shirt just so my fingertips can find purchase over his heated skin. Just so I can feel the bite of my nails into his flesh.

Somewhere between life, death, and Wolfgang’s undeniable effect on me, I begin to bargain with whichever god dares to listen. I plead and beg, and implore.

Let us have this without any consequences.

Let us indulge in the forbidden until we’ve had our fill.

The gods have their own laws. Why can’t we?

Breaking our embrace, Wolfgang peers into my eyes, his thumb stroking my burning cheek and I can suddenly see all the same desperate demands reflected back at me.

“May the gods have mercy on me,” he says quietly.

The squeeze in my chest threatens to become the one thing that actually kills me, so I shove Wolfgang off, making him flip onto his back so I can straddle him, now desperate for some semblance of control. My hands land flat on his chest while his fingers clutch onto my hips. My head falls backward, and I close my eyes, effectively shutting out Wolfgang and his maddening, seeking gaze. I grind myself on him, his grunts long and deep as I fuck his cock until I begin to feel myself unravel.

“Wolfgang,” I moan almost in shock, my eyes snapping open to find his dumbfounded gaze locked on mine, mouth slightly parted. I’m unable to find any other words to utter before my orgasm rips through me with uncontrollable desire. But Wolfgang doesn’t give me the time to experience it all the way through before flipping me back onto the floor and fucking me with renewed passion.

“My terrible demise,” Wolfgang says into the shell of my ear. “My ruinous mistake.” He kisses me one last time, his hot, searching tongue just as intoxicating as before, and my orgasm crests once more, my pussy squeezing again and again around his cock.

I feel Wolfgang shudder, groaning into my mouth as he comes deep inside of me.

And it takes me every last bit of my sanity not to cry out for this moment to last forever.

Because now that it has ended, we’ve certainly condemned our fate.

33

WOLFGANG

The silence hanging over us like a thunderous black cloud heralds an insufferable sense of rationality. It squeezes my lungs with an unfamiliar sense of regret. Surely, we’ve just co-signed our death—or at the very least our mutual downfall. But the selfish part of my nature would do it again if it meant reliving the same bliss I just experienced.

I’ve known pleasure before but this was … euphoric.

I expect Mercy to push me off immediately but she does nothing of the sort, letting me slowly pull out and roll onto my back beside her. I catch my breath as she does hers, the closeness of her body next to mine radiating an undeniable heat that dares me to find her hand and lace my fingers with hers.

Instead, I push myself off the floor and gingerly stand on my two feet. When my thigh throbs with renewed vehemence, I lose my balance but right myself quickly. Mercy, still on the floor and now resting on her elbows, fixes her intense gaze on mine but says nothing.

I offer my hand. “Our wounds need to be tended to.”

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