Page 46 of The Rusalka and Mr. Right

“No?”

“I don’t like to show normal people how I live.”

Kev forces himself up on one elbow and squints down at me. “You live just fine. You hardly need that place.” Another long pause while he stares at me. “Did you... I mean, before me, was there another guy? Before Gregor, or after him, I mean... Someone who was just a place to live?”

I shake my head. I’m not angry that he asked—I’m rather relieved he’s catching on. I used men all the time—for food, not shelter. Water is shelter enough. The houseboat is merely for appearances. “No. I never trusted anyone enough to live with. I... I have felt odd this whole time, with how much the pattern took shape—dinner, making love, sleeping, breakfast, Fridays turning into weekends...” I trail off, not sure what to say next. Long ago and far away, out on the icy tips of the East Siberian Sea, villages were few and far between. Gregor’s snug little house was isolated most of the time, with miles between him and the nearest neighbor. Traders and boats passed infrequently.

He was lonely.

I was hungry—and not only for food. To know what it was like to have someone you could talk to more than once, someone you could trust...

Once we found each other, there was no question of separating, no thought of going back and forth between homes. The modern world is different.

Kev proves again how much I can trust him. “I think you’d better stay here for now. Forever is also an option. I mean, I’m thinking one day we’ll have a house, but for now. Stay?”

My hand grips his as he lays back down. “Live here until Koshchei is dealt with?”

“I don’t want you living on that houseboat if his people are watching you. I know you can kick their asses, but someone should have your back. Someone tall, dark, and handsome, who makes killer waffles.”

With a laughing sigh, I curl into his arms. I wait for the seduction. The sexual touches.

They don’t come. Kevin’s muscles slow-melt with the ease that falls over someone as they slumber.

“Stay?” he breathes, a sleepy whisper. “With me?”

“I’ll stay. With you.”

SUNDAY MORNING? I SITup, scratching my head. More like Sunday afternoon. My phone says it’s 11:58.

God, I hope it’s Sunday. I feel like I could have slept for days.

Marina is still asleep against me, a curled-up ball of curves.

We have a lot to talk about—but right now, I can’t help it. There’s a lot to look at, and she’s an instant aphrodisiac. My cock was awake before I was, morning wood ready to go—and looking at Marina only makes the need more urgent.

I drop my lips to her shoulder and run them over her neck, lifting her long, wavy chestnut locks. She sniffs in and giggles out, sleeping breaths reacting to my touch.

She turns, still slumbering, and I take my time staring. No wonder Koshchei wants her. Honeydew melon-sized breasts with perfect, dark pink nipples. Hourglass hips. Plump thighs. I run my hand down her outer leg, from hip to knee, marveling at how her thighs just kiss. She has a mermaid-shaped “tail” with her legs together.

I want to turn her into a starfish, all spread apart.

With a smirk, I slide down between her legs, listening to her sleepy moans as I part them. Marina instantly moves toward me, her pussy pink and dewy, making my tongue practically itch to get inside.

“What?” she mumbles, hips rolling restlessly under my hands.

“I’m having a little something before waffles,” I chuckle before I dive in, kissing the seams of her thighs where they meet her plump little mound, then dragging my tongue over her labia, working my way in, layer by layer, until Marina is panting as she holds her knees to her chest.

My fingers slide in, one, two, three, amazed at how soaked she is, and how hungrily the little “suckers” inside of her are. I rotate my hand back and forth, rocking against her to widen her as I suck on her clit, selfishly avoiding the little pocket on her upper wall—for now.

“You don’t have to spoil me so,” Marina moans, teasing her nipples and squeezing her breasts as I flick her clit with my tongue.

“I want to. I want you.”

“I... I want you. I love you.”

It’s a contest of what’s going to burst first—my heart with happiness or my cock because Marina is the sexiest thing onearth. She wraps one leg over my shoulder, and I rise to my knees, pulling her hips forward so I can bury myself in her desperate little hole.

Her thankful groans almost make me come on the spot. “I don’t deserve you,” she moans as I lean over her, kissing her neck, moving my mouth to her nipples.

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