Page 90 of Turn That River Red

“That’s it,” he breathes, lying at my side, his fingers never once leaving my clit. Warmth leaks out between my legs, and I want it to stay, desperately. It’s the same fantasy I had before, of beinghis—his wife and helpmeet, the supportive woman at his side. But this time, I’m not a preacher’s wife.

I’m a devil’s.

“Ambrose,” I choke out, the pleasure building to such a peak that it hurts. “Why are you?—”

He rubs my clit harder and slides a finger easily into my cum-soaked pussy. I lose the question into a sea of moans.

“Why am I what, humanita? Why I am still fingerfucking you?”

“No.” My hips grind against his hand. “Why are you protecting me?”

“Protecting you?” He puts another finger inside me and curls them both up, making me shudder and shriek and buck against the grass. “Who am I protecting you from?”

“You!” I scream. I’m close. I’m so, so close. He knows how to touch me. “Why don’t you want to hurt me?”

He grins, his fingers sliding in and out of my body. “You mean kill you?”

My body jerks at that, the first quake of an orgasm. I nod, breathing hard, the promise of release so close. Ambrose leans over me, still working me with his expert touch.

“Because then I wouldn’t get to see you do this,” he says?—

Right before he shifts his thumb ever-so-slightly to the left.

Every nerve in my body erupts. I feel as if I could levitate off the ground, as if I’m flooded with holy light. Not God’s light, of course. But my god’s light. This murderous, vicious, cruel god, who’s still plunging his fingers in and out of my pussy, stroking me to oblivion.

“That’s what I’m talking about,” he says softly. “That right there. You just completely fall apart for me. Gorgeous. Fucking gorgeous.” His lips brush against my forehead, my cheeks, the tip of my nose. “Killing you won’t be nearly as much fun. And I’d only get to do it once.”

His fingers are still inside me, even though he lifts his thumb off my clit. I stare up at him, wobbly, wet-eyed from pleasure. “Are you going to do it again?”

“I’ll keep doing this right here until the fucking sun comes up,” he says, fingers working inside me like a promise. “You have no idea how beautiful you look surrounded by death.”

I push myself up enough to catch his mouth in a kiss, my fingers twined up in his hair. And he keeps touching me. It’s almost too much. It almost makes me feel like my body’s going to shred apart.

Almost.

“How many times can I make you come?” he rasps into my ear. “How many times can I make up for what that piece of shit Gunner did to you?”

I can’t answer. I can’t speak. I’m a web of ecstasy. I just stare at him with my wide eyes and moan?—

Suddenly, he stops, yanking his hand out of me. I keen at its loss, but he jerks his head around, his nose wrinkling. “Someone’s here,” he whispers. “Fuck.”

A new terror slams through me. Or maybe it’s an old one—the terror I felt before I knew what Ambrose is, when I thought Reverend Gunner might find the two of us together. The terror of getting caught.

“Come on, humanita.” Ambrose is already on his feet, and he grabs my hands and pulls me up, even though I wobble a little. “I need to get you out of here.”

“Are you sure someone’s here?” I don’t hear anything. Don’t see anything. The cemetery feels as empty as it has the last hour.

“Positive. He’s coming from the back. Probably another street entrance there.” Ambrose grabs the shovel and then takes me by the hand, his fingers braiding up in mine.

“I don’t hear anything?—”

“Because you’re human.” Ambrose jerks me up to him and kisses me with a roughness that makes my legs tremble. “I can smell him.”

He tugs me forward, weaving us between the headstones. I glance back over my shoulder for one last glimpse of Raul’s grave. I feel like I should be more ashamed of what we did. Butthe truth is, I just feel free. More free than I have in a long, long time.

A light dances through the trees.

“Ambrose!” I hiss, grabbing at his arm. He glances back and scowls.

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