Famine by Laura Thalassa

Chapter 41

He doesn’t lead, but he doesn’t wait for me to lead either. Rather, every touch is met with another touch.

I stare at him in wonder as he removes my boots and the last of my dress before shucking off his own shoes and pants.

How Famine is acting right now goes against everything he’s led me to believe. He shouldn’t be sentimental—there’s no room for sentimentality in that dark heart of his—and yet he’s handling me like I’m precious to him.

Naked, he kneels at my feet. He takes one of my ankles and presses a kiss to it, running his lips over my skin.

Jesus, he’s going to drag this out. It’s probably not the best night to drag this out; the rain didn’t wash away all the mud and blood on my skin …

I reach for him, ready to speed things up.

Famine catches my hands and, twining his fingers between mine, he pins my arms above my head, draping himself over me. I can feel his hard cock pinned between us.

He kisses me softly. “No tricks,” he murmurs against my lips. He pulls away long enough for our eyes to meet.

After a moment, I nod.

At my response, he releases my hands. His mouth returns to kissing my skin, moving down from my lips to my chin to my clavicles, sternum, and breasts.

I close my eyes against his kisses, drinking them in. Each press of his lips is unspeakably tender. This is a side of him that I didn’t know existed—that I hadn’t imagined could exist—and it’s doing strange things to me.

I slide my palms over Famine’s shoulders, marveling at his smooth flesh. This body of his has seen and felt so much pain, and unlike me, he has nothing to show for it. No scars, no disfigurement, just an alarming amount of nightmarish memories.

I twine my legs around his, the pads of my feet skimming over the back of his calves, trying to feel every part of him at once. My heart feels too big for my chest.

He slides his hands over my skin, breaking off his kisses to just look at me. It’s the oddest thing in the world, seeing him marvel at my form like he’s discovering desire for the first time. His gaze moves to my eyes, and at his expression, I still.

I don’t simply exist, he once said, I hunger.

I see his desire now so clearly, but it’s not as simple as most of the lustful looks men have given me in the past. There’s a deeper element to it, and I remember something else he said to me.

Not everything is about sex, flower.

What else is going on behind those green eyes of his? Could it be … could he feel more for me?

I force away the thought before it can sink its claws in.

Famine’s fingers move to my core. The moment they touch, a naughty smile teases his lips.

“And here I thought I’d have to ready you,” he says, running his finger around my entrance.

Clearly he’s underestimating my own desire.

He moves his hand away, and adjusts himself until I feel his cock right at my entrance.

He stares down at me, and God, he’s utterly magnificent; his glyphs illuminate those wicked lips of his and set his eyes aglow. Several strands of his hair hang down, and if I weren’t so caught up in this moment, I might actually tuck them behind his ears.

But it’s not just his beauty that’s captivated me. He’s not wearing the haughty mask he usually does during the day; he hasn’t been ever since he saved me. He looks just as exposed and vulnerable as I feel.

“Flower …”

He tilts his hips as he gazes down at me, and his cock slowly begins to push in.

I suck in a breath at the sensation of being stretched and filled, and—aww, shit—I think I’m about to have another moment.

My throat tightens, and my eyes prick.

Am I seriously going to cry right when my pussy is getting its first real taste of heaven? Is this who I’ve become?

Famine is looking down at me like I’m some sort of miracle he’s stumbled upon and I have to bite back a sob.

Yep, apparently this is who I’ve become.

My hands move to my face again.

Don’t want him to see me like this.

Famine takes my hands and moves them away from my face.

“Don’t hide from me,” he says. “All I want is to see you right now.”

His words are unbearably kind, which is the last thing my sensitive heart needs right now.

A tear slips out.

He frowns at the sight of it. “Why are you crying?” There’s a note of alarm in his voice. His hips have stilled, and it’s the worst sort of agony.

I close my eyes for a moment. “It’s nothing.”

“Open your eyes.” The alarm is still in the Reaper’s voice.

Reluctantly, I do. Whatever he sees on my face causes his brows to draw together. “What’s wrong?”

“Everything. Nothing.”

This is unlike any experience I’ve ever had, and already he’s ruined me, completely ruined me, for sex. My career as a prostitute is finished.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asks.

“No.”

He looks unconvinced.

Damnit, I’m going to have to tell him something.

I take a deep breath. “I just … I’ve had so many letdowns in my life, and this … this feels too good to be true. And I feel like you can see everything on my face.” Which is ironic, considering how little light there is in this room.

The Famine I met weeks ago would’ve openly mocked me for this. A part of me is certain he’s going to mock me now.

Only … there’s no judgment in his expression. But his eyes hold a heavy sort of understanding. It makes me think that his own pain runs deep enough to recognize mine.

I see his throat work as he searches my face. “Ana …”

I think he’s about to say something big.

His lips part, but then he shakes his head, and the moment is gone.

Famine leans in and kisses me, and I feel some bittersweet mixture of relief and regret. He isn’t freaked out by my words, but he’s also not about to reassure me that I have nothing to worry about. He’s Famine, he crushes things for fun—humans and their simpering emotions most of all.

The horseman begins to move again, and I focus on that. His cock is still stretching me in the most pleasurable way.

I marvel at him, at this.

His gaze is fixed on me as he thrusts in and out, in and out. The two of us stare at each other with wonder. None of this was supposed to happen.

“I see you,” Famine says. He leans in and kisses one eyelid, then the other. “Only you.”

My breath shudders out of me, and then another stupid, rebellious little tear slips down the side of my face.

Gah, my eyes need to stop this whole crying business.

A moment later, the horseman wipes it away.

I give him a shaky smile, and Famine’s eyes catch on it.

“God have mercy, Ana, I told you no pretty human tricks,” he says, staring at my mouth, his voice hoarse.

Slowly, he resumes his thrusts. Each stroke is deep, yet somehow, he makes the movement seem gentle. It reminds me of the fact that he likes to prolong all sorts of things—hunger, death, and—apparently—sex.

My hands slide down his chest, over his pecs and abdomen. Beneath my touch, his muscles tighten.

Again he pauses.

“Please—if you have any care, woman, you’ll stop that now,” he says, his voice hoarse. “Going to make me come too soon.”

I flash him another smile. In response, his cock twitches inside of me.

My grip tightens on him.

He likes my smiles.

Famine reaches between us, his fingers finding my clit. “I’m going to have to even the score.”

I laugh, but it quickly turns into a moan as he strokes me in two places at once. His pace picks up as he watches me, drinking in my expression.

“I am convinced,” he says.

I can barely focus enough to say, “Convinced of what?”

“The perks of sex.”

I’m hardly paying attention to his words. Sensation builds and builds inside of me as he keeps teasing my clit. My fingernails scrape down his back.

“Famine …”

My lips part, my chest heaving as, all at once, my orgasm crashes through me. I cry out, pulling him in close as wave after wave of pleasure ripple through me.

Famine pistons into me harder and harder as his mossy eyes drink in my reaction. He’s still staring at me when, his thrusts deepen and he sucks in a sharp breath, like something has taken him by surprise. Then, with a groan, he’s coming hard and fast. He looks shocked as he stares down at me—shocked and enamored.

With a few final strokes, Famine extricates himself, rolling off of me. I acutely feel his absence, but only seconds later he pulls me onto him.

Then he begins to laugh. And laugh and laugh and laugh. It shakes his whole body.

I pull away to take him in. My heart squeezes at the sight of Famine smiling, laughing.

I’ve never seen him this way. Carefree. Happy.

All because he got a little pussy.

I smile, tracing his lips with my finger. My heart is doing funny things; it feels both light and heavy.

“This is insanity,” he says against my finger. “I’m having a human experience, and for once, I like it. Shit, I more than like it.” As he speaks, he pulls me in close and kisses the side of my face.

Before I can respond, he rolls us so that I’m pinned beneath him once more.

His gaze searches mine. “This is … I want to be in you again. And I want another smile from you. Many of them. Your smiles make me feel more like my true self.”

My stomach tumbles at that. Like my true self. I understand that statement all too well. It’s been a long time since someone saw me as anything other than Ana the prostitute, but when Famine looks at me, I remember.

I run my fingers over his cheek, and that lighter-than-air feeling passes through me.

Between us, I feel him begin to harden once more. My eyebrows shoot up. I wasn’t expecting an encore any time soon.

“I truly hope you don’t have any plans to sleep tonight,” he says.

I lean up and give him a kiss. “I can postpone them.”

Famine grabs one of my legs, opening me up a bit, and with one strong thrust, he’s sheathed himself inside me once more.