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Even as unease wound through me, my belly fluttered. I shouldn’t have liked hearing that as much as I did. My wife.
“If I tell you who did it, you’ll kill him.”
“So it’s a man,” he breathed.
“And I’ll be as bad as Nightmare.” I shook my head, trying to move away from him and failing completely. “I won’t kill someone.”
His fingers slid along my cheek and into my hair, cradling the back of my head as he brought his face down, peering intently into my eyes. For a moment I thought he’d force me to tell him with magic, compel me into speaking, but he only read the fear in my eyes.
“Alright, little bride, you don’t have to tell me. I’ll find his name another way.” Death pulled me back into his arms like that wasn’t an alarming statement, and I meant to argue, but… why? If he killed Alastor, he wouldn’t be able to threaten me anymore. He couldn’t hurt Honey, either.
Instead of speaking, I squeezed his waist and rested my forehead on the swell of his pec, stepping closer—and jolting when his erection pressed against my hip through his wet jeans. Oh. I thought he’d been completely unaffected by the sight of him naked but nope. Definitely nope. And he was huge. The girth on what I felt was insane.
“Ignore that, my bride,” he said, kissing the crown of my head. “I didn’t get into the shower for sex. I’m here because you need me to hold you.”
But now I’d felt it—and was still feeling it—I couldn’t think about anything else. All my awareness had gone to that point of contact, where his thick cock pressed against my belly. This morning with Tor made me bold, and instead of stammering and blushing I looked up at Death and asked, “What if I need more than you holding me?”
His hand at my back travelled slowly up my spine, waking up my whole body. “Do you?”
I nodded, not taking my eyes off him. Now I wasn’t crying, I could see him clearly and fuck, he was attractive. His hair flowed over his shoulders in thick black braids, his shirt clinging to the curves of his chest, and his smoke-grey eyes were sharp with a hunger he’d done such a good job of masking, I hadn’t seen it before. His wide mouth curved into a slow smile at whatever he read on my face.
“I should tell you,” he murmured, pulling my hands from his back and resting them on the button of his jeans, “I came to see you yesterday and I overheard a conversation you had with your friend.”
I wracked my brain for anything we’d said and came up blank.
He tucked the fingers of one of my hands into his waistband, the command obvious, and when I dared to unfasten his jeans, his warm hand cupped my cheek and lifted my face.
“You were telling her a list of your interests.”
A list of my— “Oh god,” I gasped.
His small smile curved deeper into his cheeks, his voice rich and sweet like caramel when he said, “I should tell you, a great many of them overlap with my own interests.”
Mortification quickly burned to surprise—and thrill. “They do?”
“Mm.” His voice deepened, gruffer when I tugged down the zip of his jeans for me. “Dirty talk is a favourite of mine. So is giving praise. And you already know you’re my little one.”
I flushed, but I was smiling, my stomach fluttering madly.
“Dominance and submission, too,” he went on, flicking his tongue over his bottom lip when I had his pants unfastened. Water cascaded down his rugged face and muscular chest, enticing me. “Tor’s the one you want for primal play and chasing.”
A shudder went down my whole body. Tor would chase me, catch me, and fuck me? Holy fuck. Holy, holy fuck.
“You love that,” Death observed, smiling with a wickedness that was new to me. “Do you want Torment to hunt you like prey, then fuck you like a good little slut?”
My entire body electrified. A gasp caught in my throat.
“Yes, you do,” he breathed, pressing closer. He groaned when I slid my hand into his pants and squeezed his cock, needier with every word out of his mouth. “I bet that pretty pussy is soaked at just the thought.”
“It’s wet because of you,” I said, and didn’t know where I found the courage. My heart hammered against my chest, but the warmth and presence of him here against me freed me from the usual cage of my anxieties. I didn’t hesitate to slide my fingers under his underwear and wrap my hand around the silken warmth of his cock.
His hips jerked, a sexy little groan in his throat. “Cat,” he breathed, “my bride, my wife.” He surged forward in a desperate rush, kissing me hard, and the hint of roughness clashed with the kindness and care I knew of him. The perfect combination. My ultimate weakness.
The taste of him burned out everything else, spicy and sweet like aniseed, and I kissed him like I was possessed by need. The kiss was instantly hot and greedy, my tongue in his mouth, his devouring mine with deep groans of satisfaction, teeth sinking in my bottom lip, my fingers twisting in his hair, grabbing fistfuls of braids even as I squeezed his cock.
“Does my perfect little wife need my cock?” Death asked, sending lightning to my clit. He was breathing hard, his chest rising and falling, the shirt clinging to every rise and fall of muscle.
“Yes,” I breathed, pleaded. I released his hair to push his jeans over his hips, my heart beating faster when he flicked his wrist and all his clothes vanished in a rush of dark smoke.
