I inhaled through my teeth, hands going to her shoulders as I knelt on the bed. She allowed space for me but did not release me. I stayed on my knees as she wordlessly lowered her head, her mouth closing over the crown of my cock. I could not suppress a groan at the warmth of her mouth or the pressure of her tongue. She felt good and the blood rushing to my cock made me throb—not just where her mouth was but all over my body. I took her hair into my hands and held it so I could watch her work. She looked up at me, and I could not really describe the awe of this—of the attention she lavished on me and the way she looked at me while she did it. I had no power here. She held it all and she used it well as she kissed down my shaft, pressed her face into my balls, worked her hand up and down and over the crown. I could not help moving my hips, wanting to be consumed by her heat. As much as I wanted to thrust into her mouth, I grit my teeth against the need, trying to draw out the way she had decided to take me.

I only pulled her away when I felt the dizzying signs of my impending release.

She looked up at me, her lips still wet from sucking me, and I covered her mouth with mine, shifting her onto her back. I let my full weight rest on her. I took my time kissing her, enjoying the feel of her body against mine—how her breasts felt pillowy against my chest, how her hips moved, seeking friction, and the wet heat radiating against my lower stomach, teasing my cock as it lay between her legs.

She took a breath and spoke, quiet, as I trailed kisses along her jaw. “Is this how it will always be?”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

She pressed her head into her pillow, allowing me access to her neck.

“We always fight and fuck.”

“This is not fucking,” I said.

There was humor in her breathless voice. “They are the same for you, my love.”

Her use of that endearment halted me in my exploration of her skin, and I met her gaze.

“What?” she asked.

“You have not called me that in a very long time,” I said.

She had not called me that since the night she died.

Do not fight, my love. You are destined for this world.

I let my fingers drift across her cheek as I recalled that haunting and horrific night once again. I had never understood Yesenia’s power, not even as she foretold my destiny, and I would not come to understand it for some time, but she had seen her death and my rise to power.

“Tell me,” she whispered.