Page 38 of The Rusalka and Mr. Right

I wouldn’t just be someone’s knight. I’d be her king, and she’d be my queen.

“You told her I was a nice girl? Oh, sweetie. I’m not.”

“Hush. You’re nice tome. I don’t mind if you’re a badass bitch to trash like Rich Boy Todd.”

She blinks up at me. “You don’t?”

“No.” I realize I don’t. I know I wanted a lack of crazy in my life, and so far, Marina’s not delivering. But—it’s not her. It’s things that come with her. “I think what you’ve dealt with has made you strong. Sexy, and strong.”

“And you like that?”

I’m surprised when my fragile little thing suddenly puts me flat on the mattress and straddles me, her hands kneading my shoulders, her hot crotch pressing into my cock through my sleep shorts.

This girl could absolutely pin me to the mat and have her way with me—and judging by the way my cock just leapt up to meet the soft, warm indent between her legs—I’d say I’m okay with that.

“I love that.”

“You want me to show you why he wants me? It’s because I’m strong. Stronger than the others. I fought his control, and I’ve kept myself alive.” Her hand fishes into the slit in front of my shorts and closes around my cock.

“You need to rest,” I caution.

“I need to make love to you. You love me. I love you. He will take me away if he gets the chance—and honestly, the only thing that might stop him is if he thinks I already belong to someone. Someone who would fight to keep me. Believe me, if you knew my past... You wouldn’t.”

I groan when her pussy swallows me whole, down to the balls, and she rocks on me, letting those divine, textured muscles corkscrew around me. She leans back and positions me so that I’m in that special, secret pocket inside of her pussy. With the lights on and her leaning back, I can see her muscles jumping, juicing me, like a tiny, tight mouth enveloping my crown. I swipe my tongue over my thumb and press my hand against the pronounced pink pearl of her clit, earning instant moans.

“Tell me. Tell me what I can’t love,” I hiss between clenched teeth, eyes trying to resist closing so I can watch my girl working.

“I’ve killed.”

Well, my brain isn’t wired right. “Why?”

“Koshchei made me... I was... When I served him.”

I picture my girl forced into some nightmare of pimps and drugs, forced to “serve” this bastard and his customers. I picture Marina backed into a corner and having to fight for her life.

It should matter to me, that the woman above me says she’s a murderer.

But suddenly it doesn’t. In my head, I only hear, “It was him or her. I choose her.” Self-defense. Survival. All I know is she did what she had to.

“I choose you. I don’t choose your past.”

“I have never harmed again—” her breathing is labored, hips a blur. She surges forward and kisses me, long, snaking tongue capturing mine and tangling with it like a snake charmer’s best dancer.

No tongue should do that. No pussy should have some magic mouth-like pocket.

I wonder if this “Worse-than-Russian-mafia” asshole operated on his girls, too. You hear all kinds of crazy body modifications occurring in overseas less-than-legal clinics.

People make themselves into walking fashion toys.

I’m getting lightheaded from the strangling nature of Marina’s kiss, with black fluttering at the edges of my mind—and fuck if that isn’t sexy when it’s her that’s making me dance on the knife edge of unconscious, too. I see myself swept under waves, waiting to ride them back to oxygen...

The wave breaks.

We gasp as one, her head flung back as she comes on me, shaking as her hand scrabbles over mine and we rub her clit together, hard and fast.

I come right after, chasing her pleasure down with my own, spurting deep inside, and amazed when her greedy pussy muscles don’t give up a single drop.

“Kevin. Look at me. Look hard. Really hard, my darling.”

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