Famine by Laura Thalassa

Chapter 47

I stare at him for a long time.

“I don’t believe you,” I finally say.

He laughs. “You’re welcome.”

Holy shit, he is telling the truth.

Which means … this is a legitimate vow. One that comes as close to undying love as it gets.

I will be at your side until my dying day.

I try not to swoon. Ana da Silva does not swoon, especially not over scary men. But I come close to it. I come damn close.

He wants to be with me. And bonus—he’s really not going to kill. And who knows how long that will last, but he’s going to try. He’s never tried before.

Wait a second.

I glance around at the house around us with new eyes.

I’m trying something new, he’d said. Could that actually mean … ?

“Is this house for us to keep?” I say, not daring to believe it.

Famine nods.

I can’t seem to get enough air in my lungs.

I focus on him again. “I want to be alone with you.”

The Reaper is going to get laid. Right here. Right now.

Not looking away from me he says, “Everyone out.”

Within a matter of minutes, the house is empty.

As soon as the last person’s gone, I stand and pull off my soiled dress, then kick off my socks and shoes.

The horseman watches me, his eyes gleaming.

Once I’m fully naked, I nod to Famine.

“Now it’s your turn,” I say.

“To get naked?” he says, raising an eyebrow. “Whatever for?”

Oh my God.

I give him a look. “Do I really need to—?”

“I’m kidding,” the horseman says, and it’s unnerving how much he sounds like me.

He stands and begins removing his bronze armor. Famine is slower to get naked, his gaze drinking in my breasts … then my waist, then my hips, then legs, then back up, his eyes lingering on my pussy as his fingers undo his armor.

“Had I known this would earn me some eager sex, I might’ve given up my ways much, much sooner.”

I guffaw at that. We both know the Reaper fought his physical urges to the bitter end.

It only takes him a little longer to pull off the rest of his clothing. In the light of day, I see every exposed centimeter of him. I’m used to his nudity, but it still takes my breath away.

Famine’s wide shoulders give way to his rounded pecs and tapered waist. His abs are a thing of glory, but even they can’t hold my attention for long.

My gaze moves to his erection.

Cocks are kind of my thing. I’ve seen hundreds of them—fat ones, skinny ones, long ones, short ones. I’ve seen penises so small that I could barely fit two fingers around them and penises so large they never fully fit all the way inside me, no matter the position. There were dicks that swung to one side and some that grew to twice their normal length; there were some that were bulbous and fleshy and some that were utterly outshined by their owner’s enormous balls. And there was everything in between.

Famine’s cock is, like the rest of him, annoyingly faultless—thick enough and long enough to make a girl feel thoroughly loved, but not overly endowed to make her regret it the next morning. His cock even slopes with just enough arch to hit a woman’s G-spot.

As I stare at him, a grin spreads across my face.

This might be the most blasphemous thing I’ve ever thought, but God clearly made this man for fucking. Sure, killing too, but I’m just saying—this dick has enough bells and whistles to play itself a song.

“That look of yours always makes me nervous,” Famine says, reaching out and pulling me against him. He traces my lips, his pretty cock trapped against my belly.

“Say it again,” I say.

Famine lifts me up once more, forcing my legs to wrap around him again. “That look of yours—”

“Not that,” I laugh. “That you love me.”

The Reaper’s eyes grow heated as he carries me forward. “I love you, Ana.” When I smile he says it again. “I love you, I love you, I love you. Do you want me to keep going? I can do this all—”

“I love you,” I interrupt, placing a hand against his jaw. “And I can’t believe I get to have you, you sadistic little shit.”

As though to emphasize my point, I lean in and kiss him. I think Famine meant to take us back to a bedroom, but only seconds after my mouth meets his, my back bangs against one of the living room walls, the Reaper’s chest pinning me in place.

He stares at me as he lifts my hips, then lowers me down against, him, driving his cock into me.

I hiss out a breath at the sudden intrusion. For a moment, I can’t move, my core throbbing around Famine’s dick.

He shifts, sliding out of me. I make a sad sound, but then he thrusts back in and I let out a long, very unflattering moan.

A wicked grin splits his features and—

“Wait.”

Famine pauses, arching a brow.

I take a shallow breath, trying to think past the big fucking dick that I’m skewered on.

“Just so we’re clear—” I say, “I don’t want a child.” I now know he can work his contraceptive magic to make that happen.

The Reaper gives me an unreadable look.

“You being inside me is sort of contingent upon that.” Probably should’ve discussed this the first time we were intimate. “Understood?”

His hand comes between us and squeezes a tit. “Understood.”

He grinds into me, and that answer is going to have to do because holy shit, this man knows what he’s doing.

He should not be good at this too; this is my profession, not his. Which I know is completely ridiculous because Famine is making me feel fucking amazing and I should not be complaining, but the man with the perfect body and the perfect penis is really good at using both.

He must read my thoughts from my face because he says, “You’ve had all this practice pleasing people and no practice being pleased.”

I give him a look. “There’s no way you’ve ever pleased anyone besides yourself before now.”

He gives me a revealing smile. “Alright, you caught me. But—” He begins to piston in and out, in and out, drinking in my expression with heavily lidded eyes, “am I not a quick study, little flower?”

I don’t bother answering him. Those wicked lips of his have taunted me for weeks and weeks. I wrap an arm around his neck and pull him in close, kissing him as our hips meet again and again.

He pulls us away from the wall and, never fully withdrawing from me, moves us down to the ground.

Famine stares down at me as his thrusts begin to speed up, his hips slamming against mine as his cock drives deeper and deeper. He flashes me a wolfish grin, his caramel-colored hair dangling down.

“What?” I ask.

The horseman shakes his head. “You are so fucking gorgeous, and I like this look on you.”

As he speaks, sensation is building in me, rising and rising.

“What look?” My voice has gone annoyingly low and breathy.

“Tousled hair, swollen lips, and bright eyes,” he says, devouring my expression as his cock continues to stroke me, faster and faster.

“You like the way I look all sexed up,” I say, a smile spreading across my face.

He stares at my lips, transfixed, and almost as though he can’t help it, he begins to smile back.

I reach up and cup his face in my hands, staring at him as he works me. His hair is caught in my fingers and his sweat is already beginning to mingle with mine, and amidst it all, I feel a deep connection with Famine.

“I love you,” I say. I can’t help myself. And I need him to hear it over and over again until he fully stops hating himself. And even then I’ll say it because those words feel like basking in sunlight.

The Reaper pauses, and I make a sad, disappointed little sound.

He grins back at me. “So impatient.”

Around us, I hear tile crack. The floor shifts, and I feel the brush of a plant. It brushes against my hair even as I hear more tiles around us crack, lifting up and sliding aside as more shoots push through.

And this is the part of Famine that I might just love most. He will always be inhuman, and do weird, inhuman shit—like grow plants while he’s inside me.

Leaning in, the horseman kisses me, while around us the foliage continues to grow. His kiss deepens, and I am consumed by the sensation of Famine in me and above me and around me and—

All at once, my climax crashes through me. I cry out into the Reaper’s mouth, pulling him in close as I ride out my orgasm.

He strokes me deeper and deeper, faster and faster, his balls slapping against me until I feel him thicken.

Famine groans against my lips as he comes inside me.

Eventually, his thrusts slow, turning gentle. The horseman rests his head against mine for a moment, his breathing ragged. I can tell he wants to say something about how amazing sex with me is (because let’s face it, my pussy is a man-slayer), but I’m not sure he trusts himself enough yet to do so.

Instead, he says, “I love you.”

And that is far, far better.

He slides out of me, pulling me against him a moment later. Only now do I get a good look around me. I’m surrounded by a thicket of flowering plants. Even as I watch, another bright bloom bursts to life.

So much for our living room.

I catch sight of a familiar flower—the same ashen rose Famine’s grown for me in the past.

“This is …” I look for the right words, “strange and lovely.”

“That’s your flower.” He pulls me in closer.

“I get my own flower?” I say, raising my eyebrows.

Famine traces my lips. “If I can’t make things grow in you, then I’ll have to make them grow around you.”

“Is that supposed to flatter me?” I say. “Because that sounded creepy as fuck.”

“I’m glad that you haven’t entirely forgotten that I am ‘creepy as fuck.’”

I grab the lavender rose and give it a yank. After some resistance, it rips free.

Famine makes a disapproving noise. “You are such a human—needlessly tearing apart a perfectly good plant.”

“You have literally done the same thing before.” I turn to give the horseman a look, but once I do so, I can see the mirth in his eyes.

A laugh slips from his lips, and he gives my ass a squeeze. “I think riling you up might be a new favorite pastime of mine.” Famine leans over to give me a kiss.

I kiss him back, then tuck the pale purple flower behind his ear. Pulling away, I admire the horseman’s beauty.

He watches me the entire time. “You make me feel things in the most exquisite way,” he admits. “I’ve lived eons, and yet with you I feel young all over again.”

“Is … that a good thing?” I ask. I can never tell what Famine thinks a compliment is.

“What do you think?”

I don’t know. Maybe.

But then again, I’m a fucking idiot, so who knows.

What I do know is that the horseman has spent all this time on earth gorging himself on cruelty, but there are so many other experiences Famine hungers for.

Maybe love most of all.