Page 90 of When Death Whispers

I flip us, straddling him in one smooth motion, and sink down on his cock in a slow, possessive glide that has his head tipping back with a growl.

“Fuck, Silver,” he gasps, his hands flying to my hips.

He lets me lead. Lets me take. And I do.

I ride him hard and slow and deep, dragging every sound I can out of him. Our bodies move in rhythm, slick and hungry, every thrust thick with everything we’ve been holding back for days.

When I wrap my hand around his throat, his hips buck. His eyes blow wide. His cock twitches inside me, and I feel the pulse of his restraint slipping.

His mouth falls open in a ragged moan. “I’m so fucking close.”

I lean in, lips at his ear. “Good.”

I roll my hips harder, faster. My climax builds like fire under my skin, and when it hits—when I clamp down around him, when my nails dig into his chest and I cry out his name—Hudson follows.

His release crashes through him with a raw, guttural sound, his whole body jerking beneath mine as he spills deep inside me.

We collapse together, breathless.

I’m sprawled across his chest, both of us slick with sweat, our skin sticking in the best possible way.

“Told you,” I murmur against his throat. “I’d take what I needed.”

His arms wrap around me, holding me close, one hand dragging slow circles up and down my back.

“I hope you know,” he says, voice low and rough, “I’d let you take it again. And again. As many times as you want.”

I don’t answer. Just nuzzle into him, letting the steady rise and fall of his chest soothe the wild beating of my heart.

After a moment, he shifts us, tucking the blankets over our naked bodies, his hand still lazily stroking my spine. I’m curled on his chest, one of his thighs between mine, his body wrapped around me like a shield. His breath is warm against my shoulder, and his fingers trace slow circles down my spine. He holds me like he means it. Like I’m not a burden to bear.

And I let myself be held.

33

The room is quiet.Tooquiet. The kind that presses in from all sides, like sound’s been swallowed whole.

I blink trying to shake off the morning haze, trying to figure out what’s off. What made me wake up.

Hudson is still fast asleep, one arm slung across my stomach, his chest rising and falling in slow, even breaths. He’s warm against me. Solid. Human.

And I should feel safe. I should feel sated.

But instead…

My skin hums.

There’s a buzz just beneath the surface of my nerves. Not pain. Not fear. Justpressure. Like something waiting to be released. Like something watching.

I shift carefully, not enough to wake Hudson, and glance toward the foot of the bed.

He’s there.

Rad.

His shoulders are broad enough to shadow half the wall behind him. And his curved horns nearly brush the ceiling.

Coarse, dark fur ripples over thick cords of muscle with each slow inhale. His tail—long and sinuous, spade-tipped—flicks idly like a whip waiting to snap. His ears twitch, catching the shift in my breath before I can control it.

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