Page 15 of The Rusalka and Mr. Right

“Not acceptable. Bloodline, only.”

Marina can’t have kids. She said so. I want kids. I want a couple of them.

So, stupidly, my brain is already picturing holding Marina’s hand as we fill out adoption paperwork or interview surrogates. Maybe there are new medical treatments. Maybe...

Maybe I’m an idiot.

“We should go to bed. It’s late.” Marina firmly closes the dishwasher after I put the last dish inside.

“I hope you know that I don’t only pick up girls so we can hit the bedroom. I’m... I hope this isn’t a one-time thing.”

Marina smiles up at me, but there’s something shuttered over in her eyes. “I think it can be a regular occurrence,” she purrs, and pulls me down the hall.

MY STOMACH MUSCLESclench as Kev settles his head between my thighs, kneeling at the side of the bed. His forearm wraps around one leg while the other hand stays free so he can spread me apart like a botanist examining a flower.

His tongue is just a normal human tongue, not too long, not too broad, but by God, he knows how to use it.

“Mm. Saltwater and sweet. I love it.” He praises my flavor while his eyes meet mine.

My pleasure is not strictly important to survival. I need men to come, I need their sexual energy. It would make sense to fake a swift climax and get Kevin back inside of me so I could build up a reserve, so to speak.

But I can’t rush him. I don’t need to fake what I feel, either.

His scientific mind might be my downfall, though. As he licks and sucks his way across me, his fingers explore inside. “What is that... Perfect circle,” I can hear him murmur reverently as he finds the greedy sucker just inside the entrance of my pussy.

“Umm.” My moan has a questioning note as I wonder if he’s going to ask about it.

And my stupid body betrays me, sucking his fingertip inside. I moan loudly, unable to help it as a bolt of pleasure shoots through me, his mouth pursed around my clit and his finger pressing into it from below.

“Is that your g-spot? All spongy and sucking me into you?” he demands, awe in his voice.

I could lie. I could leave. Instead, I mewl, “Mmhmm. Don’t stop.”

“I never felt one, like, so pronounced.” Kev’s finger fights against the suction and wins, breaking my grip, only for him to purposefully start using two fingertips to thrust in and out of that secret spot.

My mind explodes in little pinpoints of pleasure. On occasion, someone has found this lucky little spot, and it’s exquisite. But no one has ever deliberately fucked me there, exploited the juicy fountain of pleasure that turns me into a babbling puddle. Men don’t know of that spot. I’ve never revealed it to them. Too risky. If they knew I was different inside, they’d be afraid to have sex with me, afraid of the freak, of the monster—and in most cases, they certainly ought to be.

“You’ve got like a little pocket. Soft, sweet little suction cup.”

“It’s... It’s part of why I can’t have children. I’m not formed like other women,” I blurt.

It’s true. I was formed by Koshchei, born of his essence. He made me. Only he can plant seeds in this garden.

“Well, dang, baby, that’s okay. Everyone’s got something unique. We call it bio-individuality.” Kev lifts his head and studies me as his fingers deliberately press in and up—then start to circle hard and fast.

I almost sob in ecstasy. “Ohh! Oh, fuck, please... Please don’t stop.”

“Is this gonna make you come, baby?”

I bite my lip and nod, eyes falling closed. I love how he calls me that.

Baby. Precious. Something little and sweet that you keep safe.

I could tear out his throat, but he doesn’t know that. Kev sees something naked and fragile pinned to his sheets by one muscular arm and his roving hand.

Centuries have taught me that there are many men who would view that as an invitation for the greatest evil possible.

They taste foul, but they were worth killing—back before I decided to stop feeding Koshchei.

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