Page 89 of Turn That River Red

Idon’t know why I said that to him, other than that it’s true.

As soon as the words leave my lips, blasphemous as they are, I tip over the edge I’ve been balancing on since he threw me to the ground and slid his knife inside me. I split open and scream into the night—a scream Ambrose silences when he latches his mouth against mine in a brutal, violent kiss.

And he keeps fucking me, and I keep coming for him, pulse after pulse of pleasure rocking through my body as his tongue grapples with mine, his fingers wrapped around my throat like a necklace binding us together.

Then he wrenches away, rising on his knees. He lifts my legs up so that they’re propped on his shoulders. Rests his fingers on my clit, still throbbing and sensitive.

“Say that to me again.”

I tremble, gazing up at him, his face carved out by the moonlight. He looks like a god, with me on my back in supplication.

Ambrose pushes into me with long, slow thrusts.

“Say it,” he orders, rubbing his thumb against my clit. I cry out, the intensity of his touch lighting me on fire.

“You’re the only god I need.” My voice rings out, stronger this time, and it feels good to say it. Just like it felt good to cry out that I wanted him to fuck me. It feelsright.

Ambrose groans and drops his head back as he slams deep inside me, sitting there for a moment before doing it again. He fucks me with such force that I’m shoved back through the dirt, almost like he’s pushing me beneath the soil. Down into the darkness, down into the underworld.

This is who I am, that I’d let him do this to me. That I wouldlikeit, and want it, and crave it.

“You feel so fucking good,” Ambrose grunts, wrapping his fingers tight around my ankles as he slams into me and shoves me deeper into the darkness. “Human women aren’t supposed to feel this damn good.”

“Murderers—” I gasp out. “Murderers aren’t supposed to feel this good, either.”

Ambrose grins at that and rubs my clit a little faster. My arousal is soaking both of us.

“You sure about that, humanita?”

He punctuates the question with a sharp thrust, then asks,

“You going to come again for me? For your god?”

“Yes,” I moan, although I don’t know if I can. But I want to. I want to keep falling backward through this pleasure and depravity. I was harmed so badly by the light and the darkness both, but at least the darkness apologized. At least Ambrose saw that he hurt me and tried to fix it.

“Good,” he rasps, his thrusts quickening, his fingers furiously working my clit. Tension builds in my belly like a rubber band stretching to its limit. “Because I like it when you come, little human. I like it when you fall apart for me.”

I moan and let him fuck me. I let him use me just like Reverend Gunner did, like Pastor Sullivan and Deacon Price.

For three years, I was used.

But it never felt like this. It never felt like the sun was burning inside me.

“Come on, baby,” Ambrose rasps. “Come on. I’m close. I’m gonna need you to come again.”

“I don’t—” I jerk against him, desperate to chase my pleasure. But it’s not enough. The tension’s there, but it’s not ready to break. “I can’t?—”

Ambrose roars, his hips shuddering against mine, his demon seed spilling inside my womb. I suck down gulps of air, delirious with pleasure, and wait for him to pull away so it can fade.

But he doesn’t. He keeps his cock shoved inside me, his thumb on my clit. “Look at me,” he says, rubbing my clit in furious circles. “You’re gonna look at me when you come.”

He’s not stopping, I realize. “You don’t have to?—”

“Shut the fuck up.” His eyes blaze. “If I’m your god, I’ll give you pleasure if I see fit. Now lie back and come for me, my little human slut.”

His harsh words tear a fire through me. All I want in the whole world is to do what he says. To obey him. To worship him. To do the thing I was taught to do but which, until this moment, always felt wrong.

I settle into the graveyard grass, my eyes fluttering shut, and roll my hips against his hand until my pleasure throbs through my core. The rubber band stretches a little further.

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