Page 158 of The Cannibal

He peered at me through his lashes, taking one slow drag of the tongue before kissing up the pelvic bone, then up the middle of my abdomen.

I pulled him up by the hair, pushing him down on his back to take my place.

While straddling his hips I pulled at his trousers. I tipped forward to kiss him, his hands placed on my hips.

When I finished undoing his pants, he bucked his hips up to jolt me forward.

“He’s going to kill you,” I whispered.

“Let him.”

“Silas.”

“A single moment with you is worth it,” he panted, his forehead touching mine. It was like he marveled in every touch, no matter how gentle, “even if it may be the last.”

“Don’t forget me,” I cupped his face as I captured his lips, “if it comes to it.”

“That’s like asking my lungs to forget to breathe,” he laughed at me.

“I love you, Silas,” I cried. “It hurts to let go.”

“Then never release me from your claws.” He smirked. “I will wait as long as I need to.”

“If it fails, swear to me we will make good on that promise to jump,” I whispered. “We could go back to the cliffs.”

He took both my hands and held them to his chest. Our heads did not part, our lips so close only God could hear our promise. “Until death,” he said again.

“Let him never find us apart,” I repeated.

My palms balled in his shirt, pulling it open as I lifted myself up. He helped position me, his lips never leaving my skin. He kissed my shoulder as I lowered myself onto his cock. There was a twitch as I settled on it, and my thighs were already shaking.

The deranged part of me hoped someone would see and we would both be executed right there. Defiling property, the contract said, is punishable by death.

The nightgown was pulled over my head and he tossed it away. Once done, he lay back into the pillows. His eyes followed his hands as they smoothed up my hips then down the middle, tracing the scar.

I rocked my hips, the girth of his cock pressing into me, unable to push the rest of it farther in my tense state. I leaned back, hands resting on his thighs as I lifted my hips.

Silas gasped, his grip on my thighs helping to push and pull.

My movements became rough, desperate—and then I sat up.

I couldn’t do it.

My hands covered my face as I shook my head.

Silas sat up, taking my wrists gently and removing them.

“Look at me,” he whispered, “speak to me.”

I couldn’t slow my breathing. It was spiking up faster and deeper until it was so disordered, I wasn’t properly breathing at all.

“Alina, shh.” He pulled me in, resting my head on his shoulder as he breathed deep, then a prolonged exhale. His chest against mine served as a mirror. His breathing guided mine, his pulse drumming against my ear.

I slipped my arms over his shoulders, my face buried in his neck.

He moved my hips on his lap, rolling his own and letting me go limp. One by one, my muscles let go, melting into his warmth as our bodies clung together.

There were more lubricated conditions now that came with the soothing rocking of the hips. I let him move me freely, just happy to feel him and not have to do anything but be comforted.