Page 52 of Morena
“Qué pasa?” I asked. “Scared?”
She shook her head.
“Then show me what you did to him,” I said.
“But...” Her voice crumpled. “He is dead.”
I laughed. “Show me.”
She came closer, chains clinking like distant bones, and lowered herself onto my cold, pale cock. She took my dead body in, then sank until the whole of me filled her. A low, satisfied sound escaped her.
“Too cold?” I asked, watching the little shivers run across her skin.
She shook her head and rode me, slow then faster, the chains hung at her wrists like a thread tethering her to some fragile life. I slid the black robe free; it fell away and pooled on the floor,revealing the pale, impossible line of my body. My hand found the crease of her ass and parted her cheeks, and I pushed in until she gasped.
I held her by the chains, felt the weight of them through her palms as if they were the last thing keeping her tethered, and she leaned her head against my shoulder, eyes closed.
“No,” I said, low. “I want you to watch.”
My claws bit into her shoulders, and I thrust, feeling her close around me. Her eyes opened; they mirrored the twin holes of my mask, and beneath that hollow reflection, she began to fracture from moans to gasps.
I moved her along my length until the wall steadied her back. I lifted a leg and drove myself into the soft flesh of her thigh, deeper, until she tightened. Her hands scraped the stones, the rasp clung to my ears. I spun her, pulled the mask up just enough for my mouth to reach her wet pussy, then dropped to my knees.
Her legs were mine to hold; I tilted her hips and let the edge of my mask press against her, probing as my tongue drew slow circles around her clit.
“Death,” she whispered, voice cracking. “I will come.”
“You won’t,” I said. “Not until I say so.”
I held her steadier, worked harder, my tongue slickening her until the tremor began at the base of her spine. The tip of my mask nudged and withdrew, making her thighs shake.
I whispered against her clit. “Tell me, is it worse to be taken by the Death who remembers, or the man who forgot?”
She swallowed, eyes fluttering shut as I pushed into her. Then I let go of my mask, and it fell, clattering to the floor.
“Matteo,” she breathed, and my name hung between us.
I turned her, muffled her cry with my hand, and thrust harder until her scream echoed through my fingers. The pressure built through me, so I lowered her until she knelt. My fingers tangledin her hair, and I guided her head forward, pressing my cock into her mouth. She choked and swallowed, and I came into her, filling her throat, until she gagged.
When it was done, I straightened, letting her slump back, chest rising and falling. I stepped away, the shadows pooling at my heels, and my voice cut through the dark.
“Bring me every single one who did you harm,” I said to her. “I will avenge you, Morena. I know you remember.”
1. Oh my God, what happened?
II.
MORENA
July1984.
I woke up naked in a room that reeked of rot and damp plaster. Four walls closed me in. No windows, only peeling paper curling off in strips. Shards of glass clung to my skin, biting deeper when I moved. Blood bubbled in my throat, spilling past my lips.
Why was I still alive?
I could hear slow footsteps approaching. I shut my eyes, body slack against the floor, trying to become a corpse.
“Perdóname, hermana,”1she whispered, her voice trembling. “Pero no puedo dejar que Paco ni yo terminemos en la cárcel. Nuestro hijo nos necesita.”2
