Page 169 of Famine

He tilts his hips as he gazes down at me, and his cock slowly begins to push in.

I suck in a breath at the sensation of being stretched and filled, and—aww, shit—I think I’m about to have another moment.

My throat tightens, and my eyes prick.

Am I seriously going to cry right when my pussy is getting its first real taste of heaven? Is this who I’ve become?

Famine is looking down at me like I’m some sort of miracle he’s stumbled upon and I have to bite back a sob.

Yep, apparently thisiswho I’ve become.

My hands move to my face again.

Don’t want him to see me like this.

Famine takes my hands and moves them away from my face.

“Don’t hide from me,” he says. “All I want is to see you right now.”

His words are unbearably kind, which is the last thing my sensitive heart needs right now.

A tear slips out.

He frowns at the sight of it. “Why are you crying?” There’s a note of alarm in his voice. His hips have stilled, and it’s the worst sort of agony.

I close my eyes for a moment. “It’s nothing.”

“Open your eyes.” The alarm is still in the Reaper’s voice.

Reluctantly, I do. Whatever he sees on my face causes his brows to draw together. “What’s wrong?”

“Everything. Nothing.”

This is unlike any experience I’ve ever had, and already he’s ruined me, completely ruined me, for sex. My career as a prostitute is finished.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asks.

“No.”

He looks unconvinced.

Damnit, I’m going to have to tell him something.

I take a deep breath. “I just … I’ve had so many letdowns in my life, and this … this feels too good to be true. And I feel like you can see everything on my face.” Which is ironic, considering how little light there is in this room.

The Famine I met weeks ago would’ve openly mocked me for this. A part of me is certain he’s going to mock me now.

Only … there’s no judgment in his expression. But his eyes hold a heavy sort of understanding. It makes me think that his own pain runs deep enough to recognize mine.

I see his throat work as he searches my face. “Ana …”

I think he’s about to say something big.

His lips part, but then he shakes his head, and the moment is gone.

Famine leans in and kisses me, and I feel some bittersweet mixture of relief and regret. He isn’t freaked out by my words, but he’s also not about to reassure me that I have nothing to worry about. He’s Famine, he crushes things for fun—humans and their simpering emotions most of all.

The horseman begins to move again, and I focus on that. His cock is still stretching me in the most pleasurable way.

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