Page 39 of Ballad of Nightmares

“You know, this makes me wonder,” she said, causing Sam’s attention to idle on her. Her tilting head, the curl that fell over her eyes, the exposure of her throat, and the continuous toy of her teasing hand in his. He wondered how with such little touch, he was somehow unable to focus on anything else. Her lashes lifted to him, sweeping with the smile she gave him, and she seemed to laugh at his expense.

“What?” he asked.

“You’re not listening to me again,” she teased.

Sam smiled, turning into her. “It’s your eyes,” he said.

“Oh? So, I should wear sunglasses inside so that you listen to me?”

His crooked smile widened. “I listen to you.” He turned his attention to the statue. “What does this statue make you wonder?” he asked.

Ana looked up at it. “It makes me wonder if Death is truly so beautiful as this statue shows he is, or—” she turned toward the one at their back, the statue of a crude demon with a forked tongue sticking out of a triangle mouth. It was taller than the first one, with bat wings and a tail, long toenails and curled feet. Sam remembered the man who had made this one as a joke one Death’s Day.

“—Or if Death is as cruel and vulgar as the rest of the Myers and Moors say he is,” Ana finished.

“Maybe he is all of those things,” Sam answered. “And maybe his demons are the same.”

She glanced up at him. “I do hope that’s a promise,” she said.

Sam chuckled under his breath, stepping flush to her, his hair falling over his face. “I don’t make promises, wicked girl.” His lips landed on hers. Soft. Fleeting. He smiled at the sight, making her lean forward like she was about to fall off-balance in his absence.

“I make vows of Death.” He tugged her bottom lip between his teeth, noting a few onlookers who were staring at them. His eyes slid to one a few feet to his left, and he gave the older woman a wink that made her jump.

But Ana didn’t seem to notice. She grasped the lapels of his jacket, making him look back at her. “Vow that you’ll make me see stars later,” she whispered.

“I’ll make you see them right now.”

He wasn’t sure he gave two fucks about the people watching as the pair finished making their way through the statues, all the way to the elevators on the opposite side of the room. Ana made a couple of comments about a few more, though Sam didn’t entirely catch her musings.

He was too focused on feeling her around his cock again.

And that smart fucking mouth… he’d fuck that too.

The line for the elevator made his lips curl. He took Ana’s hand, nodding toward the stairwell door, and Ana shrugged, but followed along behind him. He’d no sooner let the door shut behind him before he was yanking her into his arms, his lips pressing greedily to hers.

Ana pulled free and slapped his cheek, making Sam growl delightedly, and upon seeing the wild glint in her eyes, his gaze snatched on the closet door behind them. Sam grabbed her wrists and yanked her flush.

“Are you going to slap me every time?” he asked through clenched teeth.

Ana fought against his grip. “That depends,” she answered. “Is it going to get your cock this hard if I do?”

He nearly grinned. Fuck, she was fun.

Sam shoved her sideways, her back knocking into the closet door, and as he kissed her again, he opened the door, allowing them inside the dimly lit room. But he didn’t last long on her front. He jolted and turned her into the wall as the door closed behind them. He pressed into her back, pulling a groan from her as the shelves rattled around them. Her ass ground into his hardening length. His lips were on her neck, hands bunching her skirt up at her hips. Ana’s quiet moan filled the tight space, one of her hands curling around his head, the other on his left as he pushed his pelvis into her.

“Sam…” His name was a plea, a devotion.

“You feel that, baby?” he whispered, his tongue raking over the side of her neck. “Do you feel what you do to me?” His hand wrapped around to her stomach, tickling down and down, her head sinking back to his chest, and he teased over the lace underwear she wore.

He wondered if it was the black thong he’d seen peeking out of her drawer.

Fuck, she was wet, too.

“Wicked girl… How long have you been this wet for me?” he said, smiling against her. “Was it since I held this pretty fucking throat in front of everyone?”

“Don’t give yourself so much credit,” she ground out. “It was the naked statue on the fourth floor.”

Sam whipped her around, pinning her into the wall, and Ana’s lips lifted into a smile. She jerked forward like she might bite his mouth, but he grasped her tighter, and Ana chuckled under her breath. He leaned down, tongue licking hers, but he didn’t kiss her yet. Every movement of her hips, her heaving breasts against his chest, had him needing her more and more.