Page 21 of The Dead Don't Talk
“Thanks, kitten,” Moros responds dryly.
They’re like … night and day even though they’re both big and scary-looking guards. They both have deep voices but Wilson’s carries lightly where Moros’s is like a whip cracking. Sharp and direct.
Wilson’s hair is lighter, wild like the people from the mountains, his beard grown in just enough to dust his jaw. ButMoros … his hair is black as night and curled around his ears. Straight. His chin clean of hair like mine.
The main difference, though, is their demeanors.
Moros looks like he’s ready to rip off heads at any given moment, which is exactly what makes him a target for someone like me. I have to test it, okay? Got to make sure they aren’t just playing the asshole card. And he challenges me, I guess. I find it fucking attractive.
Then there’s the man that wasshooting at uswhen we got here, who is now laying beside me, cleaning my body and humming soothingly.
There’relegendsbased off these two men.
I can see why.
“I’m mad you were shooting at us,” I mumble with heavy eyelids.
Wilson snorts again, the sound echoed by Moros’s heavy steps around the space.
“It’s our thing.”
“You’ll never hit me,” Moros scoffs out. “You like my dick too much.”
Wilson’s eyes go sharp. “When you’re the only one that’ll stick it in my ass, yeah.”
A laugh bubbles out of me.
“You guys are funny.”
I feel floaty, my muscles like dough even as Wilson tilts me around to dress me.
The blanket is draped over me next, and it smells like forest and sex andman. It’s so damn soothing as I stare up at the water-stained ceiling that I’m certain I fall into that space between sleep and awake. The guys talk in hushed tones around me, their timbres an easy noise to listen to without having to pay attention to the words they speak.
Holy shit, I don’t think my brain has ever been this quiet.
“Is everyone’s first time like this?” I absently ask the room, my eyes sliding closed.
“The prostate is his favorite toy,” Wilson says and it’s like I can hear the smile in his voice. “They’re great orgasms.”
“Nah,” I mumble and lift my hand, though I don’t know what I’m reaching for until Wilson’s hand finds mine and fits perfectly. “I meant having sex. Is everyone’s like this?”
His fingers go stiff in mine, the air next to me shifting.
“Amo, what do you mean?” Wilson asks uncharacteristically stiffly. “Your first time with a guy?”
I shake my head, my curls knotting painfully beneath me.
“First,firsttime.”
“With a man.”
“No. First time sexing ever.”
It falls so quiet around me that even Moros’s steps have stopped, and I crack my eyes open at the shock of silence.
The first thing I see is Moros’s dark wide eyes, his lips pressed into a thin line.
“How is that?”
