Page 148 of Famine

I feel his cock pressed hard against my thigh, and I think he’s going to slip it in, now that I’m as wet as the Atlantic, but instead he chooses to just stare down at me, drinking in my expression.

He brushes back my hair. “Are you going to behave?”

“What are you even talking about?” I say, my voice still breathless.

Tilting his head, he studies my expression some more. “Hmmm,” he taps the side of my cheek as he thinks, “perhaps I should torment you more. I do solovetormenting you …” He begins to move back down me.

“Wait—wait!” Good God.

He pauses, his gaze sliding back to me.

“I want to touch you too.”

Famine wasn’t moving before, but now he seems to go utterly still. I can see him hesitate, and I have no clue what would cause a fully aroused man to mull over a woman begging to touch him.

Then, wordlessly, he lets those vined monstrosities relinquish their hold on me.

I sit up, rolling my wrists as Famine seems to retreat. He doesn’t lounge back the way he usually does, expecting people to serve him. If anything, he seems a bit remote, as though he can’t quite bring himself to ask this of me.

The horseman’s not used to this. He’s used to taking what he wants, and he’s used to being taken from, but allowing someone to give him something without any underlying motive?Thatappears to take some effort.

I prowl forward, moving over to where he’s kneeling. Gently, I rest my hands on his shoulders.

“Lay down,” I say softly.

The man who bends to no one now follows my orders without complaint, though his eyes stare at me a bit distrustfully.

I slide my hands over his thighs, smiling a little when his muscles tense beneath my touch.

“Loosen up, this is going to be fun,” I say, massaging his legs a bit.

I move between his legs, kneeling before his cock. I can feel the dirt slipping off my hair and down my neck. This feels a whole lot more primal than what I’m used to. But in this case, different is good.

Famine’s dick is tantalizingly close, and for a moment I let the tension stretch out.

My gaze meets the Reaper’s, and the air is practically crackling with his nerves.

I lean in, my hot breath fanning over his erection. In reaction, it jerks.

I smile.

“Little flower, based on the look you’re giving me, I feel like I should be worrie—”

Before he can finish the thought, I wrap my mouth around him, my hand moving to the base of his cock.

Famine hisses out a breath.

I don’t give him a moment to recover. My mouth begins to work him, up and down, up and down.

He lets out a moan that is sexy as hell.

Famine was right of course. Heshouldbe worried. I’m going to make him reconsider sex. Wholly and completely.

He’s going to be mine once I’m finished with him.

I use every trick I have on him, from swirling my tongue around the sensitive head of his cock, to cupping his balls, to even pressing a finger into his ass—the last one of which causes him to jerk against me.

“Jesus Fucking Christ,” he swears, “what sort of witchcraft is this?”

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