Page 17 of The Rusalka and Mr. Right

Another laugh to share.

“Here. You did all the work. It’s my turn.” Marina nudges me over easily, so much stronger than she looks. She perches on top of me, my semi-stiff cock still buried in her as she begins to rock gently on it, squirming back and forth.

I lay back and look at her. She cups her breasts and then licks her fingers before using them to tease her nipples. I watch, mesmerized, as she tugs and rolls them. When she tugs just hard enough, her pussy clamps down on my cock and I groan with her.

“You’re very comfortable with your body,” I praise.

“It’s the only one I have.”

I roll my eyes. “A beautiful woman who cooks and makes Dad jokes? Hmm. You sure I’m not dreaming? Because you seem perfect to me.”

“Ah, it’s a dream, sweet one. I’m actually a terrifying nightmare creature with sharp fangs. I’ll be gone when you wake.”

“Hey, hey. Better not be.” I rub my hands lingeringly over her hips and down her smooth, slender legs. “I don’t care about your fangs, baby. I like a little bite with my beauty.”

Marina gasps and stiffens—and then her squeezes turn so much more intense. My cock rages to life as she looks at me, lips trembling as she shifts and pushes me into that extra snug little pocket where it feels like a mouth is sucking on me as well as being enveloped in her tight, wet heat.

This time is hard and fast, explosive, with my hands smacking down hard on her ass to keep her in place as I pump my load into her and watch her shake on top of me.

She topples to my chest and we cling to each other, athletes at the finish line, holding each other up.

This time, our bodies naturally separate, but we keep holding each other. I want her to sleep in my arms. I want to fall asleep breathing in the fresh rainwater scent of her hair.

“Be here in the morning,” I whisper.

“Okay.”

As I feel sleep winning out, I hear one tiny murmur. “Kev? What’s your favorite dessert?”

“Peanut butter mousse pie with a honeycomb crumble. My meemaw used to make it. Why?”

I feel her stiffen in my arms just for a few seconds, but then she relaxes. “Curious.”

Chapter Six

“Ihave to let you go, honey pie,” Marina whispers in my ear in the morning.

“Hm?”

“I’m late for a meeting with a friend.” She kisses my cheek.

I’m wide awake at once. Muscles complain. I vaguely remember being woken up at four to Marina squirming against me, and we had sleepy, fumbling, cuddly sex that was like a dream.

Best dream ever—but now it’s six. Where’s she going? Who’s up this early?

“I need your number,” I yawn.

“Yes. Yes, let’s do that, and we’ll get together next week perhaps?” Marina says.

Next week? I was thinking about dinner tonight, but maybe she’s playing it cool. Maybe she doesn't like to be smothered.

Idon’t like to be smothered. And I’ve never felt this kind of urgency to see someone again. It’s...

Not happening.

“Absolutely,” I agree. “Hey, it’s Labor Day. Are you off work?” I enter her in my contacts, then text her.

I hear her phone beep and see her thumbs tap the small, cracked screen of an early-model smartphone.

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