Page 65 of Dance with Death

“What’s wrong with me? How is it that hardly ten minutes ago I wanted to die, and now all I can think about is making love to you?”

I lick my lips. “The same thing that’s wrong with me. We fell in love.”

Her body rolls, rocking forward and back with all the grace of a dancer. “You’re the only thing that makes me feel alive. I want you.”

“So have me, Anya. I promise you, whatever you want from me, I want it from you, too.”

Anya bites her lip for an adorable microsecond before letting go of my hands. She reaches between us and works at my buckle. Sitting back on my thighs, she unbuttons, unzips, undoes me completely so she can have what’s hers.

God, she makes me hard.

In literal hell, she has the power to turn me on.

She lets out a shaky breath as she fists my shaft and shifts her body. The tip has barely brushed across her warmth and wetness before she sinks down, taking me inside her completely. We groan in unison, both feeling the same relief of being two broken pieces that have just been put back together.

I don’t give a shit whether she moves or stays still, just the feeling of being inside her is like being home. Nevertheless, it feels fucking amazing when she moves, grinding slowly. She gives me her eyes instead of her lips and somehow, that feels even more amazing.

The brightness of her blue irises is returning. The fight in her is coming back with her desire, with our connection.

Our connection is everything.

Without it, we’re nothing.

“I’m better when I’m with you,” she says.

“We’re better together.” I kiss the corner of her lips.

She reaches for my hands again, our fingers braiding together and holding tight. I bring her knuckles to my lips and kiss each finger with sensual softness, earning gentle puffs of breath from her lips as she gives me her soul-deep gaze.

She rolls her hips slowly, an erotic dance that only she could ever perform for me so spectacularly, and it feels so fucking good. She’s building me up, so excruciatingly hard, making me desperate, making me want to take and take from her until she’s given me every piece of her soul.

I’ll keep the pieces within my own soul, protect them, keep them safe.

Her eyes flutter as she fucks, her thick eyelashes fanning over the blue and making her look otherworldly, like a fairy or a forest nymph or a goddamn mermaid.

Fuck.

I don’t even know how to describe it.

She’s just fucking magical to watch, especially as my name falls from between her plump, burgundy lips.

I drop her hands and grab her face, holding her steady while I kiss her with force. My mouth presses hard to hers, forcing her to open for me, to let me in for a taste. Her hands cover mine as she obliges, giving me her tongue to suck on. She whimpers and her body sinks, conceding to the pleasure I know is coiling in her belly.

I sit up taller, forcing her to lean back while she fucks me. She puts one hand behind her, gripping my thigh just above my knee for support as I kiss her roughly.

If I thought she could take the pressure of a man laying on top of her, if I thought she could mentally handle giving me the control and letting me climb over her, I’d throw her down, fuck her roughly, make her feel so wet and so good that she’d never let me stop.

But she’s been hurt too many times and letting her ride me feels just as damn good.

She moans into my mouth and her ass swirls as she changes her angle. Our kiss breaks as she digs her hand down hard, almost painfully on my knee, and she’s fucking me in short, quick strokes. Her eyes lock on mine and I’m letting go. That vibrancy is turning up like a dial with every second that passes, her brightness rising and radiating light into the room.

Nothing could be more intimate, more sexy, more ethereal and beautiful as the expression on her face as she uses me for her pleasure.

And thankGodfor the sounds she makes. The same puffed out little “oh” sounds I remember from the times before when she came with me.

Not ever when she came for Nikolai.

Only when she came forme.

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