Page 24 of It's In His Hiss

I return with the cupcakes and a glass of cold orange juice, which I immediately regret offering becausenothingruins post-orgasm bliss like citrus pulp.

Alice accepts the cupcake like it’s a crown. I climb back into bed, crumbs already getting everywhere,and curl around her like she’s the last safe place on earth.

She leans into me without hesitation. Limbs tangled. Hair everywhere. One of my snakes tries to steal her cupcake. She bats it away like a seasoned pro.

And I think,this—this is the chapter I never saw coming.The one after the curse, after the loneliness, after the long dark.

Alice.

In my bed, in my arms, in my ridiculous snake-filled life.

Home.

“Hey, Gordy?” she murmurs, eyes drifting shut now she’s inhaled the cupcake.

“Yeah?”

“If I die tonight, tell the tabloids it was death by orgasm, and I regret nothing.”

I snort, tucking her closer. “Sheila says you’re dramatic.”

“Sheila’s just jealous.”

I chuckle again, head on her chest, her heartbeat steady beneath my ear.

“You’ve got a lot going on in here,” I whisper, tapping her forehead.

She’s quiet for a moment. Then she reaches between us to grasp my rapidly hardening cock. “And you’ve got a lot going on down here.”

I groan, rolling her onto her back. “You trying to kill me for real this time?” I murmur, kissing down her throat.

Her legs wrap around my waist. “I’ll make sure you die with a smile on your face,” she breathes, nails grazing my shoulders.

I slide into her slowly, and her mouth parts with a soft gasp—like we’re starting something sacred all over again. No rush this time. No frenzy. Just the quiet ache of wanting, the sweetness of acceptance. We move together like we’re finishing a story we started earlier, one only our bodies know.

Her fingers lace with mine. My snakes lazily nuzzle her cheeks. And in that hush between moans and murmurs, we fall into each other again—deeper this time.

Afterward, I hold her close, tracing lazy circles on her back. I lean over and kiss her gently, grateful for this moment of pure connection. I open my eyes to find hers staring into mine, deep pools of blue reflecting a shared wonder.

“Wow,” she breathes, voice soft as starlight. “It gets even better. Who knew?”

“I think we really will end up killing each other with pleasure,” I say, attempting levity—but my voice wobbles on the edge. I’m unraveling. I can feel it.

She laughs—warm, real, a little hoarse—and gods, it’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.

And maybe that’s the problem.

Because when I pull her closer, when her skin brushes mine, and I catch her looking at me like I’meverything?—

Something inside mebreaks.

Not from pain. From love.

Too much of it.

I look at her. A second too long. A fraction past safe. Past reason.

She’s glowing in the soft light, her hair wild against my pillow, her cheeks flushed from the aftermath of everything we’ve shared. Her eyes—gods, her eyes—are soft and open and unguarded.

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