Like I’m nothing and everything all at once.
I don’t know what’s gotten into him. I don’t understand what’s happening, not really. But maybe I don’t have to. Because there’s a new force in my chest, one that feels just like the Grim Reaper’s pull to reap souls, to take lives from this plane—except it’s my own. It has nothing to do with the afterlife. It’s raw and electrifying and fierce.
I want to be alive so damn bad.
It’s like a switch flips inside me.
One moment I’m lost in his eyes, and the next I’m fumbling with his zipper—inconveniently positioned right where my bare pussy presses into him.
Chaos erupts.
He holds me still as I try to get us both ready, both aligned. The zipper finally gives, his pants sliding to his thighs, and my hands go everywhere. Spanning the heat of his stomach, the taut lines of his chest, the breadth of his shoulders.
His cock springs free, sliding between my ass cheeks.
“Oh, shit,” I breathe.
He rolls his hips once, rubbing there. My nails dig into his shoulders.
“You feel that?” he asks, his forehead pressing to mine. “I’m about to fuck you well, Little Grim.”
I swallow, but the lump in my throat won’t move.
“Stop teasing me.”
“I can’t.” His grin is a knife’s edge. “You’re the one holding me hostage here.”
He’s right. My legs are locked around him so tightly he’d have to pry them apart. I shift my hips, feel the blunt head of him catch right at my opening. The sound he makes is pure sin.
He thrusts up, hard, and I gasp so sharply it slices through my lungs. Then again. And again. Until the world narrows to the slam of his hips and the brutal rhythm of my pulse.
Alive. Alive. Alive. Alive. Alive.
That’s all I can think about.
The rough brick scrapes my back, but it’s nothing compared to the burn blooming low in my belly. Each thrust lands harder than the last, heat, ache, and an unspoken demand in every motion.
His grip tightens under my thighs until I feel his fingerprints in my bones.
“I could fuck you like this forever,” he says.
I bet he could.
He makes me believe it.
My fingers twist in the back of his hair, pulling, needing. I don’t know if I’m trying to keep him here or keep myself from coming apart.
“You said once…” I breathe. “You’d ruin me.”
His mouth curves.
“Yeah. I will.”
The words land like a promise, like a threat. My pulse ricochets through every vein.
“But you’ll ruin what I hate more?”
His eyes catch mine. They’re molten.
