Page 34 of Ethereally Redeemed

Every muscle in my body quakes as I fight against myself not to orgasm, pushing away the pleasure making me want to fall apart.

“Look at you, begging for me among the dead,” he taunts.

“I thought you said it wasn’t a date with the dead,” I breathe out.

“Seems like I was lying again,” he smirks, his grip on my throat firm, keeping the oxygen from fully entering my lungs yet allowing me just enough to breathe.

It causes a pleasure unlike anything else when he bites down on my nipple, continuing to thrust into me with feverish movements that make it hard to resist the pull to fall over.

“You’ll black out soon,” he taunts, breath hot against my skin. “If you do, you won’t get your sweet release.”

The tension in my body becomes a crescendo when he fucks me harder, ruthlessly, amidst the dead in a graveyard long since abandoned.

“This has to be the worst place we’ve fucked in.”

“True, but you love it.”

He fucks me with urgency, and my hands finds his back, the muscles stretching taut with his motions. I can’t help but dig down my nails into his skin, making him hiss out a breath.

“I’ll give you five seconds to come, or you won’t get to at all.”

“I hate you,” I moan, frustration welling up on the inside.

“Sure you do.”

Then I fall apart, and he follows suit, releasing his grip on my throat and pressing his forehead against mine. I gasp for breath, our exhales mingling together in a cacophony of peace.

Our hearts race in tandem as we lie tangled together on the forest floor. As he brushes a strand of hair from my forehead, a spark of mischief lights up his sapphire eyes. He helps me get dressed and holds me when I stand.

Taking my hand, he guides our bodies in sync, exhaustion yet contentment filling me.

“What are you doing?” I ask, bewildered by the shift of actions after he just fucked me into next week.

The rhythm of our breaths slow down to a gentler pace, sweat glistening on our bodies. He leads me into a tender dance, moving with precision, the steps reminiscent of the ball at the dollhouse. Only this time, there’s no music, just the intimate sound of our beating hearts.

“We’re dancing,” he says softly.

A giggle escapes me, touched by the absurd yet romantic gesture. “Why?”

“Your first dance was with my brother. Let me be your second and last dance,” he whispers in my ear.

I can’t resist kissing him again, drunk on the feeling of doing so, my heart bursting with the intensity of my feelings.

Oh, how I wish I could stay in this moment forever. But the world around us is relentlessly dragging us down, never allowing our sanctuary to last.

Chapter 13

Grey

“Look at that,” Nayabreathes out as we approach the old train tracks leading to my childhood home.

We’re closer to the main square now since she insisted on seeing more of where I grew up. It’s a small town, isolated from the rest of the world, with my childhood home on the outskirts. The town square hosts little shops and cafés, but I won’t take her there. Not when our lives are in so much danger.

Following her gaze, I see a wet piece of paper lying in a puddle. It rained heavily before, leaving our clothes damp, though they’ve mostly dried by now.

“What’s that?” I ask, not sure what could be so interesting about a drenched scrap of paper.

I watch as Naya crouches down, leaning closer to the puddle. She reaches a hand toward it, eyebrows drawn in contemplation of what it is she’s focusing on.

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