Famine’s hands glide over my thighs as his lips work against me, and I think he’s taking in the feel of me—all of me. But then his mouth finds its way to my clit—

I jerk away from him—or at least I try to. His hands turn into manacles, pinning me in place.

“Unless you want things to get very interesting, I suggest you stop squirming,” he says.

I pause to eye the Reaper. “Things could get more interesting than this?” I say breathlessly. I mean, a horseman of the apocalypse is going down on me.

Famine responds by nipping my clit, and holy shit. I squirm—I squirm like my life depends on it.

The Reaper breaks away. “I do so hate following through on threats,” he says.

The liar. He loves that shit.

The ground around us begins to tremble.

“What’s going on?” I say, distracted from Famine’s ministrations. I begin to sit up, and the horseman pushes me back down.

He flashes me a wicked smile. “You have always been too curious for your own good, haven’t you?” he clucks his tongue. “Naughty human.”

I stare at him, completely confused, when out of the corner of my eye, something moves.

Before I can register what it is, I scream.

And then it touches me!

“What the fuck!” I nearly slip out of Famine’s hold because your girl here learned her lesson last night: I’m not sticking around to wait for bad shit to happen to me.

Famine laughs, then pins me back down, even as that thing wraps around my wrist; a moment later another shadowy object slips around my other wrist. And that’s when I realize it’s the Reaper’s plants.

He literally grew plants to hold me in place.

Famine continues to laugh from where he lounges between my legs. “Did you really think I was going to do this the human way?”

Seeming to punctuate his words, another two vines wrap themselves around my ankles.

Oh this is so messed up.

“Are you seriously using your plants to keep me from moving?” I say.

His only response is another nip to my clit. Again I try to move away from the almost excruciating burst of pleasure, but this time I’m held in place.

By freaking shrubbery.

This might be the weirdest situation ever, and I’ve been in a lot of weird situations.

“You are a kinky freak,” I tell him.

“Shhh …” Famine says, his voice vibrating against my core.

“A kinky control freak,” I amend.

He presses another kiss to me just as he slips a finger inside me.

Sweet Jesus.

Now that I’m unable to escape, Famine mercilessly moves his mouth on and off my clit in an absolutely maddening way, all while he fingers me.

This is way too much all at once, but pinned in place as I am, I can’t get away.

“Famine—Famine—” I pant, “Please—please—please …”

He adds another finger inside me and—

I arch into him, letting out a breathless scream as a violent orgasm rips through me. It stretches on and on, and the Reaper’s mouth is on me the entire time.

Even once my orgasm is over, he hasn’t relinquished his hold.

“Stop—stop!” I beg. “Please.” I’m shaking from my climax. I don’t think I can take much more.

Reluctantly, he pushes himself away, moving up my body until our torsos are flush with one another.

I feel his cock pressed hard against my thigh, and I think he’s going to slip it in, now that I’m as wet as the Atlantic, but instead he chooses to just stare down at me, drinking in my expression.

He brushes back my hair. “Are you going to behave?”

“What are you even talking about?” I say, my voice still breathless.

Tilting his head, he studies my expression some more. “Hmmm,” he taps the side of my cheek as he thinks, “perhaps I should torment you more. I do so love tormenting you …” He begins to move back down me.

“Wait—wait!” Good God.

He pauses, his gaze sliding back to me.

“I want to touch you too.”

Famine wasn’t moving before, but now he seems to go utterly still. I can see him hesitate, and I have no clue what would cause a fully aroused man to mull over a woman begging to touch him.

Then, wordlessly, he lets those vined monstrosities relinquish their hold on me.

I sit up, rolling my wrists as Famine seems to retreat. He doesn’t lounge back the way he usually does, expecting people to serve him. If anything, he seems a bit remote, as though he can’t quite bring himself to ask this of me.

The horseman’s not used to this. He’s used to taking what he wants, and he’s used to being taken from, but allowing someone to give him something without any underlying motive? That appears to take some effort.

I prowl forward, moving over to where he’s kneeling. Gently, I rest my hands on his shoulders.

“Lay down,” I say softly.

The man who bends to no one now follows my orders without complaint, though his eyes stare at me a bit distrustfully.

I slide my hands over his thighs, smiling a little when his muscles tense beneath my touch.

“Loosen up, this is going to be fun,” I say, massaging his legs a bit.

I move between his legs, kneeling before his cock. I can feel the dirt slipping off my hair and down my neck. This feels a whole lot more primal than what I’m used to. But in this case, different is good.

Famine’s dick is tantalizingly close, and for a moment I let the tension stretch out.

My gaze meets the Reaper’s, and the air is practically crackling with his nerves.

I lean in, my hot breath fanning over his erection. In reaction, it jerks.

I smile.

“Little flower, based on the look you’re giving me, I feel like I should be worrie—”

Before he can finish the thought, I wrap my mouth around him, my hand moving to the base of his cock.

Famine hisses out a breath.

I don’t give him a moment to recover. My mouth begins to work him, up and down, up and down.

He lets out a moan that is sexy as hell.

Famine was right of course. He should be worried. I’m going to make him reconsider sex. Wholly and completely.

He’s going to be mine once I’m finished with him.

I use every trick I have on him, from swirling my tongue around the sensitive head of his cock, to cupping his balls, to even pressing a finger into his ass—the last one of which causes him to jerk against me.

“Jesus Fucking Christ,” he swears, “what sort of witchcraft is this?”

It’s my turn to ignore him, doubling down on my efforts, my mouth and hand working him.

In response he groans, his muscles clenching. His hands find their way into my hair, and he grips me like he’s holding on.

With my free hand, I cup his balls again.

His hips buck, and his cock twitches in my mouth. “Dear Lord—you need to stop.”

Um, ignore.

“Ana—” His voice roughens, his cock continuing to twitch against me.

Ignore.

“If you want things to progress … Jesus … stop …”

He showed me zero mercy. I’ll return the favor. I continue to glide my mouth over him, my hand pumping the base of his shaft.