Page 63 of The Rusalka and Mr. Right

I want to ask questions about rusalka taste buds, but Marina is already swimming back towards that handy little bump in the embankment and flopping down on it, bottom wriggling to tempt me.

Not that I need much tempting. I’m still hard, and the achy soreness that had started is gone.

Marina looks over her shoulders. “I would say that’s going to last for an hour.”

“I’m not complaining.”

“Shall we see if we can consummate this ‘promise’—”

“Wedding,” I correct sharply. Ain’t changing my mind about it.

“Whatever you’d like to call it... Care to claim your bride in all three openings?” Marina’s fingers slowly tease between her cheeks. “One down, two to go.” She licks her lips and winks.

I’ve never swam to shore so fast in my life. It occurs to me that I haven’t even thought once about whatever monsters live in the woods or fly overhead at night, or even the local townies stumbling across me skinny dipping and more in some random river.

“I love what you do to me,” I whisper as I nibble on her ear, my chest sliding against her back. My lips detour to her neck and down her shoulder, along her spine. I’m working my way down to that sweet peach she hides between her legs, ready to thank it for the wonderful thrill ride I’ve already had tonight. “I love you.”

She stops pushing her hips impatiently back against me, sighing happily when my mouth slides over her sex. “I love you, too. I love who we are when we’re together.”

She has a way with words, my Marina.

My wife.

Chapter Seventeen

“Oh, babe... Take you on a real honeymoon one day,” Kev sighs, shudders, and stretches as he hauls himself from his bed.

Our bed? My legs are still tingling from the “breakfast in bed” Kevin served me. I was the meal. But it was served in bed.

His hand slaps down lightly on my still pulsing lips, making me moan and jump.

We share a long, silent look. His hand stays, then his touch turns massaging. I arch and lift my hips, waiting until he slaps down again, more firmly, squeezing his fingers into the slippery mess he’s made of me.

“You shouldn't play with your food... unless you have time for her to do the same,” I hiss in pleasure, wondering what it will be like when I can be fully free from the specter of Koshchei, if I can let myself be totally weak and submit utterly, to enjoy being played with, all pliant and open, or perhaps all bound and spread.

Another shiver escapes me, and his fingers sink back into my greedy pussy.

“I already took Monday off,” Kev pants, watching me, his cock at half-mast.

“I can wait until you take your lunch break. Barely,” I whisper.

Kev looks at the screen of his phone, tossed on the pillow on his side.

“Quick is okay?” he asks, scrambling up my body.

“I can make you come in sixty seconds,” I squeal as he sheaths himself in me, cock hardening fully as my muscles dance on him.

I like the promises we’ve made to each other.

I particularly like the idea of a honeymoon. Days and days of nothing but Kev and his gloriously filling body.

KEV FLIPS THE FREEcalendar he got from the library when he applied for a Pine Ridge library card. Scenes from last year’s Halloween parade welcome us to October. Two weeks. Two weeks until my friends risk their lives to stop a beast that may rise—or until I weep with relief on Kev’s chest and then haul him into the water and carry him like a dolphin saving a stranded sailor, out to the mouth of the Atlantic if I have my way.

“What are you going to do today?” Kev downs a bagel and protein shake. I want to make him breakfast every day.

Do I sound like a doting little housewife?

Maybe I want that.

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