Page 33 of Morena
“I saw you in a dream,” she said, taking a step closer. “You just stood and watched her drown. You could have saved her, but you chose your life over hers.”
Her steps echoed as she closed the distance. “You betrayed her. Why?”
“I was just a kid then,” I said, shaking my head. “Now, as an adult, I pay the price.”
“No,” she whispered, so close I felt the cold radiating from her skin though she hadn’t touched me yet. “You don’t get to decide who lives and who dies.”
“And you?” I asked. “What are you then? You’re no different than me.”
She laughed and turned away.1“Puede ser.” When she spun back, her reflection stared at me from the mirror as if there were two of her.
“When I was dying, I was given a choice,” she said. “Bring dark souls to judgment day, or burn in hell.”
Her hand pressed against my chest and slid slowly down. “I was just as selfish as you, except I never got to choose who lives and who dies. That choice is still yours.”
She lifted one leg against my hip, her hand circling my throat as she climbed onto me. Her weight dragged at the hooks in my shoulders, pulling harder, the pain shooting down my arms until my teeth clenched and I hissed.
“Do you want to die,ojos tristes,or do you want to live?“ she whispered, her fingers tightening around my jaw and turning my face toward hers before she licked my cheek.
“Kill me already,” I said, staring at her, the last of my strength drained.
“Not yet.” She pressed her fingers against the wounds in my shoulders, brought the blood to my mouth, and smeared it across my lips.
“Want some?”
She pressed her fingers to her lips and smeared blood over her mouth and cheeks. She was so goddamn beautiful. Maybe in another life we would have had a happy ending, but this was not that story.
I nodded, feeling my cock twitch.
She noticed and leaned harder until the tip brushed her lower lips.
“You are mine now,” she breathed.
“Then take me,” I growled.
She laughed and kissed me like she meant to claim whatever was left of me, our tongues twisting together, urgent and slow at once. She lowered herself to the floor, and I watched her, hungry.
She stripped herself bare, palming her breasts, then slid a hand down, and slowly rubbing her clit before she slid two fingers inside. She stopped, came to me, and pressed those fingers to my mouth so I could taste her.
“How do I taste?” she whispered, smiling.
“Like death,” I said, looking at her.
She cupped my balls, then sank to her knees and took my cock into her mouth. In the mirror, I watched her ass cheeks part and her hips work, grinding down until she gagged a little around me.
I groaned, my head falling back. The chains tugged, and the pain flared, but when pain and pleasure are braided together, you stop caring. She was pushing me to the edge.
She rose and turned with her back to me, watching herself in the mirror. She spread her cheeks, and in one clean, single thrust, she lowered herself on me. She moaned and smiled.
In the mirror, I saw her eyes roll as she leaned back over me and began to ride, steady, then harder, then even harder, plunging her body onto mine again and again.
She arched her back, one hand clutching her left breast while the other slid down to touch herself, tracing slow circles while I took the lead, even chained. She gripped the chain in front of me and held it tight as she moved, her body trembling with pleasure.
“Make me regret what I will do,” she whispered between moans. “Make me forget I was dead.”
She spun around, her legs locking at my hips as she slammed herself down onto me. Her hands gripped the chain above, holding herself steady as she rode me. The room filled with the slap of skin and the rattle of chains, her moans tangled with my groans of pain.
“I will make you forget death if you make me forget life,” I said, letting her ruin me.
