Page 122 of Red Ruin
I stop spinning, hugged to his chest. My pincer-grip slips when he grabs my wrist for a lick.
While Vhex’s psychic screams grow closer and more painful, I climb across Remy’s hips to make a point.
Then wince.
My overstimulated pussy kisses his belt buckle.
I knee into a less dangerous position, only gripping with my quads to keep him pinned.
Not that Remy tries to fight.
He lounges like we’re in bed together for a lazy afternoon, totally apathetic to the undead invasion at our door.
He doesn’t fight my guiding, but he doesn’t exactly help. His soul’s posture matches his position on the bed.
He’s enjoying the ride.
He’sreallyenjoying me.
But short of that, Remy doesn’t give a fuck about anything.
His emptiness grips my chest.
Godsdamnit.
I should be the main course in a spit-roast between him and Vhex, butnoooo.
Remy keeps giving me time tothink.
I sigh. “What am I going to do with you?”
“It’s much too late for anything to be done.” A fang peeks through Remy’s sad, crooked smile. “I simply wish to enjoy you until my end.”
At least we both know there’s an end date. Now, we’re just debating the timeline. “Enjoy me all you want, but you have to stop dragging me off alone to…”
I finally look around the room.
The massive bed only takes up the smallest corner of Remy’s candlelit lair. The rest is a cozy sitting room, packed with bookshelves, an antique desk, thick carpets, and enough still-in-use household relics to fill a museum.
He has an honest-to-heavens wax sealing station at his desk.
“Welcome to our quarters. They’re deep underground. Much more comfortable than that devil’s den. Decorate as you wish. It’ll be yours when I’m gone.”
My heart clenches. “There’s no door.”
“True.” Remy glances at the ceiling. “That presents a problem.”
“Yeah.” I lean forward until our noses bump, lifting my hips so that I’m not tempted to start grinding. “Hold still for me.”
He makes one of those long, drawn outmmmmmnoises that vibrates his whole chest.
I close my eyes to focus on his soul.
I’m slowly making progress on his tangles, but Remy’s silks are rolled like an ancient ball of stuck-together spiderwebs. They need a delicate touch to heal, and ideally, months or years of careful guiding.
I need him battle readynow.
That means I need to give him more.
