I lean forward, my lips inches from his. “You know of what humans do together. Do you still want that—with me?”
There is a moment, a single moment, where I feel exposed. He could reject me now, I have given him the power to—
“Always,” he says, his face brilliantly alive. “I will always want that with you.”
I smile at him again, though this one is genuine. It’s hard not to feel genuine when the horseman is so unapologetically so.
His eyes flash at the sight of my grin and he leans forward, capturing my mouth again. “Your smiles ensnare me, kismet.”
I kiss him back, still smiling like an idiot against his mouth. Thanatos begins falling into it, but no, no, no, I don’t intend for us to stay here.
Breaking off the kiss, I begin to slide off of the horseman. He catches me, and I can’t help the soft laugh that slips from my throat.
“Trust me, Thanatos, for this, you’ll want me off your lap.”
“I doubt it,” he says, his eyes stormy.
My hands move to his pants.
“These need to come down,” I say.
For the first time, Death appears alarmed. It’s that single look that dispels some of my own tension for what I’m about to do.
“Don’t be shy,” I tease.
“I am not shy,” he says, a little affronted. “What I have is yours.”
He’s making a lot of pretty pledges to me. I don’t know if I should be moved or alarmed.
Thanatos stands, his expression both curious and challenging as he lowers his pants and whatever lies beneath them.
His cock springs free, already hard—and large. Very, very concerningly large. It’s also adorned in the same markings as the rest of him. Holy shit. His maker put markings on his penis … and the rest of him, by the looks of it. More glowing glyphs cover his abdomen and run down his thighs.
Before Death can begin to remove his greaves and his boots and take his pants fully off, I place a hand on his shoulder and press him back down into his chair. I kind of like the idea of his pants keeping him pinned in place.
“Kismet, please tell me—”
My hands fall on each of Death’s inner thighs, and his words cut off, like a life drawn short.
My bravery has washed away; my heart is pounding a mile a minute. I am no seductress, and I feel my confident fa?ade crumbling away.
I kneel.
One last breath before I cross that line I drew for myself a year ago.
Inhale.
Exhale.
I take his straining cock into my hand.
The action causes Thanatos to hiss in a breath.
“You can always tell me to stop,” I say, heat burning just beneath my skin.
My core throbs, and my nipples have tightened despite the fact that Death’s the one being touched. I’m turned on and embarrassed of the fact, and somehow that only seems to heighten it all.
I hold Death’s gaze. His cheeks are flushed, he still looks alarmed, but he also looks frenzied for more.
And he doesn’t say stop.
I give his shaft a pump.
He bucks helplessly against me.
“Lazarus,” he pants. “What are you—?”
“Relax,” I say soothingly. “This is the fun part.”
And then I lean forward and take him into my mouth.
Chapter 42
Sugar Land, Texas
July, Year 27 of the Horsemen
Thanatos nearly comes up off the seat. He looks thunderstruck.
That won’t do.
Gently I put a hand against his chest and push him back down.
“Lazarus,” he breathes, his voice pained. His chest is rising and falling fast. He looks frantic and bewildered, like he had no idea a human body could feel like this.
Has he never gotten himself off?
I pause, my mouth slipping from his cock.
“You can always tell me to stop,” I remind him.
“Never,” he says with all the conviction of a true believer.
The corner of my mouth curves up, then I take him back into my mouth. He groans, one of his hands making a fist on the armrest.
I can’t fit all of him into my mouth, so I fist the base of his shaft, pumping in time to the slide of my lips—up, down, up, down.
I take him as deep as I can. There’s not much finesse to what I do. To be honest, it’s all I can do to ignore my gag reflex and the dull ache in my jaw. Despite the discomfort, my pussy throbs for the horseman.
I glance up at him as his cock glides between my lips. Thanatos’s breathing has grown heavy and ragged. One of his hands is still fisted; the other one moves as though to touch me, but he draws it back, instead gripping the armrest for dear life.
I grab that hand of his and bring it to my hair.
You can still touch me, I want to tell him. My breasts, my face—anywhere. For now, it is yours.
Death’s fingers delve into my locks, his other hand moving to my head as well.
He stares down at me with wonder.
“What is—” He cuts off as another stroke of my mouth leaves him breathless. “What is this?”
I grin around his cock, and the sight causes a shudder to roll through him.
“The sight of you kneeling—between my legs—kismet,” he says roughly. “It is … erotic.” He says that last word as though discovering it for the first time.
I don’t respond, not when I’ve found a rhythm. I pick up my pace, and Thanatos is now matching me stroke for stroke. His fingers have tightened in my hair.
His movements grow frantic, his face pinched in what looks like agony as he stares down at me, his hands fisted in my hair.
“Lazarus, something is—” He swears. “Lazarus!” he bellows.
Hot jets of cum coat my mouth as he finds his release. I swallow it down, even as Thanatos keeps coming and coming, his body jerking with every thrust.
I can hear his harsh breaths as his thrusts slow. The man sounds like he met his maker. Almost reluctantly his hands slip from my hair.
My mouth slides down the length of his shaft once more, and then I release him, sitting back on my haunches, my breasts still exposed.
Death, normally so rigid and poised, is sprawled out in his seat, his chest rising and falling. He looks completely undone. He stares at me like I’m a specter.
I discreetly wipe the corner of my mouth, licking off a final bead of cum, and I push myself to my feet.
I hope I still look confident because on the inside, I am quaking.
I just went down on Death himself. I have to bite the inside of my cheek to stop the crazy laugh that wants to bubble out of me.
I pull my dress back up, slipping my arms through the straps. Turning from the horseman, I grab a loaf of bread and the open bottle of wine. Then, casting him one last, heavy-lidded look, I retreat.
For once, I’m not fleeing the horseman. A conqueror doesn’t flee from their conquests, they do as they please. And right now, I please wine and bread and a bed where I can deal with this sharp throb between my legs.
“Lazarus!” Thanatos calls out to me, a hint of some new emotion in his voice.
“Goodnight,” I say over my shoulder.
Tonight was only the first real taste of what I have to offer. I plan to make this slow and excruciating. By the end of it, I intend to have the horseman wrapped around my finger—body, mind, and spirit.
For humanity, nothing else will do.
Chapter 43
Sugar Land, Texas
July, Year 27 of the Horsemen
I’m not surprised to find the horseman pacing the next morning in the house’s living room. Death strides up and down a line of windows that overlook the backyard. Right now his back is to me, his wings opening and closing with agitation.
Around us, skeletal servants move through the rooms, carrying crates and other odds and ends.
“Good morning,” I say.
As soon as he hears me, Death goes preternaturally still—even his wings pause.
At last, he turns. His eyes first meet mine, then they slide down to my mouth—the same mouth that was wrapped around him last night. One of Death’s hands fist and I see his throat bob.