Page 41 of Moonflower
The Grim fucking Reaper.
I can’t help my scream. I can’t stop, either. Of course I try, but I slip on the damp grass, tumbling right into him. His arm locks around me like a vise.
With another scream, I push against him, but then someone comes up behind me, caging me between both of them.
Their bodies are familiar against me, but I still struggle. “Let me go,” I shout, my voice desperate and wobbly. It’s the last thing I get out before a hand is clamped over my mouth.
“I told you that you couldn’t run from me,” Wilder says lowly in my ear. He presses into me from behind, chuckling at my pitiful whimpers. “Awww, are you afraid, pretty girl?”
When I try to break their hold on me, they only grip me harder. My breaths are short and shallow, and the cold air burns my lungs.
“You’re so pretty when you’re scared,” Ezra murmurs. While his hood hides his grin, I can hear it in his voice, and it sends a chill deep into my bones. He brings the tip of the scythe under my chin, forcing me to tilt my head up. Up close, I can see that it’s just a prop—not sharp at all—but from a distance it looked so real.
Wilder nips at my earlobe, making me jump. I can’t move, can’t speak, and I’m barely able to catch my breath. Yet I can feel the heat blooming in between my legs and spreading through my body. My skin tingles as I can just barely make out Ezra’s eyes underneath his hood. They’re dark and predatory, glittering with lust.
Again, I whimper. I try to beg them to let me go, but the words come out muffled and disconnected against Wilder’s palm. So I lunge to the side in an attempt to run. They don’t let me, though.
“Oh, you’re not getting away,” Ezra says. “You belong to us now, Cora. And we’re never letting you go.”
In one swift motion, he throws his scythe to the ground and drops his hood. He rips Wilder’s hand away and fuses his mouth to mine, kissing me so roughly I squeak in shock. I’m still not used to Ezra being anything but gentle with me, but if I’m being honest, it feels natural.
Ezra undoes my pants, yanking the zipper down and shoving his hand into my underwear. He groans when he feels how wet I am.
“No,” I sob. Even though I know it’s futile, I try to break out of their hold again.
“You’re protesting, but you’re soaked,” Ezra says. His fingers drift from my entrance to my clit, spreading my arousal. They slide easily because he’s right—I’m so drenched I can feel it.
Still, I fight against them, even as Ezra circles my clit in a way that has my knees threatening to buckle. Wilder brings his hand back over my mouth, making sure to block my nostrils as well.
I scream, but the sound doesn’t carry far.
“You want to breathe, pretty girl?”
I nod.
“Then stay still.”
My body is trembling, but I stop fighting.
“Good girl,” Wilder says, sweetly yet condescendingly. He doesn’t move his hand.
Panic rises in my chest. I almost start struggling again, but I have a feeling Wilder wouldn’t like that. My muscles seize up, both from the lack of oxygen and from Ezra working my clit. Finally, Wilder removes his hand. I gasp for air, clinging to Ezra’s hoodie.
“She got even wetter when you took away her ability to breathe, Wild. What does that say about you, Moonflower?”
“Our pretty girl likes having her power stripped away from her. Don’t you?” Wilder says. He yanks my tank top up, taking my bra with it. My nipples harden instantly when the cool air hits them.
Ezra groans. “Look at you. Fucking perfect.”
Wilder squeezes my breasts, kneading them and teasing my nipples.
“No,” I whimper. I try to shy away, but there’s nowhere to go.
“What did I tell you about struggling?” Wilder pinches my nipples hard enough I wouldn’t be surprised if he drew blood.
I cry out. Tears spring into my eyes, and I can’t help it—I start fighting again.
“That’s it,” Wilder grits out. One of his hands leaves my body, coming up against my mouth and my nose again. He holds it there, not letting me breathe, while he plays with my breasts with his other hand.