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“Morgan Nichols?” he grunts, slowly pushing back in and then pulling out again just as slowly.
“Yes?”
“You’ve been claimed.”
And then he slams back into me so hard, I think my skull just moved.
“Fuck!” I cry out.
Every nerve ending on my body tightens, especially the ones between my legs. I reach down to play with myself, my clit aching to be touched.
Grimm crushes his lips to mine, one hand on my throat, the other exploring me wherever his mind decides, which changes on a whim. He never lingers in one place too long before he’s off chasing another spot that calls to his attention.
He ravages me like he’s still hungry. Preys on me like a monster.
And I love every minute of it.
His grunts and growls are animalistic. Monstrous. They do things to me, just like his appearance and voice do. And soon my Grim Reaper has me on the brink of exploding.
“Come for me, Morgan. Squeeze me with that tight cunt of yours. Reap me and my cock.”
Laughing and moaning, I grip his arm and let him fuck me until everything feels light and tingly, until the only thing left is Grimm and the way he makes me soar.
“I’m coming!” I scream, my voice smothered by his devilish tongue that he delves into my mouth to silence me. Or perhaps he just can’t get enough of me, like I can’t get enough of him.
“Good,” he growls between little nips. “So am I.”
With one final push, something hot is released inside me. My eyes roll into the back of my head and sounds I’ve never made before come crashing out of my mouth and into his, because Grimm is still kissing me.
Everything in my body shakes, and I shudder as his release fills me to the brim.
I’ve done many, many things before, but getting nailed by a Grim Reaper isn’t one of them.
Panting, he rolls us to the side, our sweat-slicked bodies sticking together. I didn’t think he had sweat glands, but maybe he does?
“You’re pretty good in bed, for a Grim Reaper. Six out of ten, maybe I’ll bone you again,” I tease, laughing.
I can’t see his face, but I can almost feel the scowl he makes. “Your rating wounds me, human. And I fail to see what is so funny.”
“You know, bone. Because you’re bony.”
“Bony,” he hums. “As I recall, you loved it.”
I like this side of Grimm. He teases me. I tease him. He’s more relaxed. More down to earth, so to speak. He’s like the version of himself that he could be if he weren’t weighed down by death all day.
A pang of sadness hits me. Not for me, but for him. I couldn’t imagine the horrors he must witness day after day, year after year. Or how lonely that kind of life is. I may not have lived as long as he has, but I still know what lonely feels like.
I wiggle back, letting him hold me tighter.
Grimm grabs onto my hips and whispers into my ear. “How am I supposed to collect your soul when you give me such a dull rating? Should I try again?”
His dick presses against my backside, harder than ever.
“Not before I take a shower,” I squeal, tearing myself out of his arms. “I was lying in a pool of soda, remember?”
“I remember,” he grumbles, a scowl on his face.
“I’m going to go grab a shower upstairs. Want to join me?” I ask, arching my brows. If he wants to go another round, I’m down, but I’d like to get a little clean first. My hair is sticky, and I smell like cola.
