Now his expression softens, and I’m finding it hard to breathe.
“All those lonely months on the road, the monotony of my task only interrupted by your meager attempts on my life—”
“They weren’t meager,” I say, forgetting for a moment that a very naked horseman is pressed against me and that we’re about to do filthy things to each other.
He flashes me an indulgent grin like I’m being cute.
“Fighting you became hard, and then it became agonizing,” he admits his smile slipping. “But as bad as the fighting was, the parting was worse. I spent months wondering about who you were, and what it was about this miserable human existence that you found so worthwhile.
“And then, eventually, I wanted to know other things, human things, about you. Things that even now, I struggle to name because everything about living is so very different than dying. I wanted—I still want—to know about you—what brings you joy, what makes you sad. Wilder still, I want to be one of the things that brings you joy.”
My throat tightens at his confession, and I cannot look away from the dark depths of his eyes. He’s told me some of these things before, but in the fading light of dusk, with my body held against his, it hits me differently.
“Somewhere between all of our confrontations, Lazarus, I came to care about you, and leaving you behind became unthinkable.
“So I stopped fighting that wicked desire to take you, and I gave in. And here we are,” he says.
“Here we are,” I echo.
The moment stretches on, until finally, I can’t stand it any longer.
Moving beneath him, I let one of my legs fall open.
The horseman lifts his body a little to look down between us. I see his nostrils flare, and after a moment, he runs a hand down my flesh—down, down, down—until he gets to my pussy.
Now he moves back to his haunches, his black wings hanging over the edge of the bed as he studies my sex, his eyes burning.
His gaze returns to mine as he deliberately runs his finger down the seam of my slit.
I suck in a breath, my hips moving against him.
“Do you like that?” he asks.
I part my lips to answer, but he’s already running his finger back up my folds again. The moment his finger strokes my clit, my hips helplessly move once more.
His eyes alight and his touch backtracks to my clit.
“What is this?” he asks, brushing it once more.
“My God, Thanatos,” I gasp out. His light touch is driving me mad.
I reach for his cock, which already looks painfully hard, his strange glyphs glittering along its shaft. The horseman catches my hand and pins it back against the bed.
“No, Lazarus. Let me learn you.”
My body is taut like a bowstring and I’m pretty sure I’m the one who looks agonized. I shudder out a breath and reluctantly nod. He’s never explored another body before. I can be patient with this. I just have to calm down my own raging libido.
Death’s fingers continue to explore my body. They travel down my clit, right to my core. Almost by accident, one of them dips inside me, and I let out a gasp.
Really have to calm down that libido.
In an instant, the horseman’s eyes have honed in on me and my reaction. His finger, meanwhile, retreats—only to slide back in, this time a bit farther.
I writhe underneath his touch, and Thanatos’s expression darkens with desire.
“I think I’m beginning to figure out how this works.”
After several more tantalizing strokes of his finger, it slips out of my core and his hand continues traveling back until his finger finds something else altogether.
“Please don’t make me tell you what that does,” I say breathlessly as he traces my other opening.
Death’s eyes gleam, his expression somehow both intense and amused. “I don’t really care what it does—only whether you like me touching you there.” As he speaks, he presses a finger against it.
I bite my lip because that is my asshole. Despite myself, I’m still aroused.
Thanatos watches my expression, his gaze searching mine. “You do like that.” But then his hand retreats and he turns his attention back to my pussy.
His hands slide over my legs, his attention fixed between my thighs. All at once, he grabs one of my legs and hoists it over his shoulder, his feathers tickling the pad of my foot.
I swear I see a shiver rack through him at the contact, but he pays it no mind. Instead, he places my other leg over his other shoulder.
I stare up at him, somewhat confused by this particular turn of events.