Page 44 of The Dead Don’t Scream

“I chose you!”

She shatters around me. Her scream fills the chapel. Her body clenches so tightly that I nearly lose myself inside her. I stop thrusting but keep my hand between her thighs, guiding her through every violent pulse. She sobs my name. Pleasure. I hear it in her voice and feel it in the way she pushes against my hand, chasing every final tremor. I press my forehead to the back of her head. My body shakes with the effort not to follow her over the edge. Sloane realizes I’ve stopped.

“Why aren’t you moving?”

“Because I’m going to come.”

“That’s generally how this works.”

A strained laugh tears from me.

“You don’t understand.”

“Then explain it.”

“If I finish while I’m inside you, I won’t want to let you leave.”

Her breathing slows. The chapel becomes quiet except for the candles and our bodies.

“You think stopping will change that?”

No. Nothing will. I withdraw carefully. Sloane makes a dissatisfied sound. I dispose of the protection before releasing her wrists. The moment the ropes fall away, I massage each arm and inspect her skin. No bruising. No broken flesh. Only faint marks. I kiss both wrists. Sloane watches me. The wildness in her expression softens.

“You didn’t come.”

“No.”

“Do you need⁠—”

“No.”

My refusal sounds harsher than intended. Her eyebrows lift.

“I was going to offer.”

“If you touch me now, the others won’t get through that door.”

A pleased smile curves her lips.

“Very jealous Scarecrow.”

I straighten her against the altar.

“Very.”

Her naked body presses against mine. I’m still mostly dressed. Still masked. Painfully fucking hard. Sloane reaches between us. I catch her wrist before she can touch me.

“Callum.”

“No.”

“You’re trembling.”

“Because I’m trying to remember our agreement.”

“And what was that?”

“You came here for all three.”