Famine (The Four Horsemen #3) - Laura Thalassa Page 0,140

before falling silent once more.

Beds are one of those ordinary things most people take for granted. For me, however, they’re sort of a moving target. I’ve slept in them, fucked in them, been beaten and assaulted in them, and just about everything in between. Beds are a bit of a battleground for me.

But staring at the bed in front of me, with its soft sheets, I’m facing a new reality. It’s not just Famine whose world is changing.

“You’re really going to sleep right there. With me,” I say, nodding to the mattress.

I can feel the horseman’s gaze on me. “We don’t have to sleep.”

Another laugh slips out. I can’t even say what I’m feeling at the moment. There’s hope and fear and an anxious sort of excitement.

“Is this where you decide to give groveling a go?” I ask. He’s already pledged himself and sexed me up. All that’s left is groveling—well, that and actually proposing to me.

“Petulant thing.” Famine grabs me by the jaw and gives me a ferocious kiss. He walks forward, into my space, forcing me to back up until I bump into the wall. “Just for that, I think tonight I’m going to make you beg.”

I wrap a hand around the back of Famine’s neck. “You can try,” I say.

He grabs one of my legs and hooks it around his waist. Famine’s reaching for my other leg when I catch his hand. “Just—don’t ruin our bedroom floors.”

The Reaper gives me a wicked look. “Floors are overrated,” he says, grinding into me.

“Famine.”

“Ana.” He grinds into me a little more, and I forget the point I was making. “Besides,” he adds, “you like me a little wild.”

This is true.

“Fine, but if you break the floors, you’re going to have to fix them too,” I say, releasing his hand.

“Is this what domesticity is going to be like?” Famine asks. “Long discussions about floors? Because if that’s so, I suddenly see the perks of fucking you speechless.”

I guffaw. “You’re not that good a lover.”

He pauses. “Excuse me?”

I fight back my smile. “You heard me, Reaper. You’re not that good.”

Lies. All lies.

Famine knows it too.

“Take it back,” he demands.

“No.”

He presses deeper against me. “Take—it—back.”

“No.”

“Fine.”

He reaches up the new dress I’m wearing and rips my also new panties clean off of me. It takes a little more effort for him to unbutton his pants, his erection springing free. The Reaper doesn’t even fully step out of his trousers, just pushes them down far enough to give his dick some room to breathe.

I raise an eyebrow.

Famine still has me pinned against the wall, but now he pulls his hips away long enough to align himself with my core.

And then he drives his cock into me.

I gasp at the overwhelming feel of him inside me. Everything about his presence is demanding. His grip, which has me pinned in place, his dick, which is forcing my pussy to give way for it, and his eyes, which are all but telling me to recant.

When I don’t, he gives me a challenging look. At my back, the wall shifts a little, then—

Crack-crack-crack!

The tile flooring breaks in a dozen different places. I smell the sharp scent of wet soil before I see the spindly plants rising from the ground.

“Damnit, Famine,” I rasp.

The horseman doesn’t respond, too busy thrusting in and out of me, each movement slowly forcing my pussy to better accommodate him.

I part my lips, a dozen different responses at the ready, but then the horseman begins laying into me, his hips slapping against mine, making my body jerk with every aggressive thrust.

My breath comes in shallow pants. The two of us stare at each other as he rails me.

All at once the Reaper pulls out. Still holding me up, he carries me over to the bed that was brought in only hours ago. He tosses me onto the sheets.

Around us, the room has morphed into something fantastical. Several small trees now crowd the space, their branches fanning out across the ceiling. And in the midst of it all there’s Famine, with his glowing tattoos. He’s much like this room—fantastical.

Before I can do much more than take him in, he grabs me by the ankles and flips me onto my stomach. The bed dips as he joins me, and I feel his lips skim the up curve of my back.

He brushes the hair away from my neck.

“Take it back,” he whispers into my ear.

Is he still thinking about my comments on his skills as a lover? Because if