Page 13 of Riding the Reaper

The truth is, I’m not. Not in the way he means it. This body is a vessel, and I’m currently using it for something it was never meant for. But the way it’s reacting to him feels terrifyingly real. The goosebumps on my arms, the tightening in my stomach, the ache in my balls. All of it.

“I don’t know how much longer we have,” I say, suddenly aware that this could all be taken from us at any moment. Time is infinite in the afterlife, but now every second I get with him is precious.

“Then let’s not waste any more of it,” Sam says. He pulls away from me, drops to a knee, and rummages through the pockets of his discarded costume. He pulls out a small bottle.

“Is that⁠—”

“Lube.” He grins. “Had plans tonight. Different ones, with my ex. Didn’t exactly picture a grim reaper with a monster dick, but hey. At least I came prepared.”

“Your ex⁠—”

“Don’t worry about her. That’s ancient history.” He squeezes some lube into his palm and wraps his hand around my cock, slicking me up in slow, firm strokes that make my legs buckle. I grab his shoulders to steady myself. “I told you I asked her to fuck me. With a strap-on.” He’s looking me right in the eye as he talks, his fist pumping my cock. “But that was me settling for the closest thing I could get. What I actually wanted was this. A man. You.”

He lets go, turns, and kneels on a pile of hay, presenting himself to me. And there it is again. That perfect ass. Two firm, rounded cheeks parted slightly, the trail of dark hair between his cheeks, his tight entrance, pink and puckered, twitching as I watch.

“You saved my life, Gray,” he says, glancing over his shoulder. “Now fuck it out of me.”

10

SAM

Ican’t believe it’s finally happening. After years of fantasizing, of burying it deep, there’s a man about to fuck me. And not just any man. The most masculine, jaw-droppingly gorgeous man I’ve ever laid eyes on. Well, not technically a man. But technicalities are the last thing on my mind right now.

Every hair on my body is standing up, and it’s got nothing to do with the cool air. His cock is right behind me, and there’s no way it fits without hurting. I don’t care. I want the hurt. I want to feel him for days after. Assuming I get more days. I try not to think about that too hard. Focus on the moment. The hay scratching my knees. The moonlight cutting stripes across the barn floor like it’s staging this for us. Gray’s breathing behind me, faster now, more ragged. The reaper is losing his composure, and I love it.

He kneels down. One long finger traces the line of my spine, and every inch of skin it crosses lights up. Down, down, until he’s circling my hole. He’s careful, like he hasn’t touched anyone in a very long time. I guess he hasn’t. We’re both in uncharted territory tonight.

“Beautiful,” he breathes, kneading my ass.

Damn right it is. I didn’t do all those squats for nothing. Perfectly round, smooth, and begging to be used. I can’t stop the greedy clench of my muscle around nothing. I’m so empty. So ready.

Gray slicks his fingers with lube and pushes one inside. It slides in easy. I’ve been working up to this for years. My own fingers, whatever I could find around the house that was the right shape and wouldn’t send me to the ER. It was always clumsy, always followed by a wave of shame that hit harder than the orgasm. But doing it myself never had that charge. I was still the one in control. The whole point is giving that up.

He adds a second finger, and the stretch is perfect. There’s an urgency to it that makes it even hotter. We have no idea how long we have before someone comes looking for us. This has to be fast. Rough. A frantic fuck against the clock.

“More,” I groan. “Please.”

A third finger pushes in, slick with fresh lube. The burn is instant. Half his hand now, working me open, scissoring, stretching. I rock back against him, shameless, taking him deeper. My cock is so hard it’s dripping onto the hay below, and I can’t resist reaching down for a few quick strokes. I don’t think I’ve ever been this hard. It almost hurts, skin stretched so tight it feels like it might split. I have to force my hand away because I know I’ll lose it if I don’t.

Gray goes still behind me. His fingers are buried deep, his knuckles pressing against my ass. I can feel him shaking. A tremor running through that massive frame. I glance over my shoulder. His head is bowed, chest heaving, sweat tracing a line down the center of his incredible torso. He looks like he’s fighting a war with himself.

“Gray? You okay?”

He lifts his head. His pupils are as big as dinner plates. He looks possessed. The composed, otherworldly being who stepped out of the woods is gone. What’s looking at me now is pure, raw need. Every nerve in my body lights up like a pinball machine.

“Sam.” His voice is wrecked. “The way I want you right now... I’m afraid I’ll hurt you.”

“Good.”

His face tightens with confusion.

“Hurt me,” I say. “I’m not made of glass.” I rock back, taking his fingers deeper. “Reshape me, Gray. Make me fit you.”

That does it. The last thread of his control snaps. He lets out a feral growl and pulls his fingers free. The sudden emptiness rips a gasp out of me, my body clenching around nothing, desperate to be filled again. But it’s only a heartbeat. The blunt, thick head of his cock, slick with lube, is already nudging my hole.

The pressure is immense. A throbbing thickness I’ve never been able to create on my own. I force myself to breathe, relax, push back into it. There’s a searing burn as he pops past the tight ring of muscle, and a strangled cry tears out of me loud enough to carry to the other barn.

Me and my big mouth. Hurt me. Reshape me. Might have been a little ambitious. A white-hot flash of pain blurs my vision, and I’m pretty sure I’m about to die for real this time. Wouldn’t that be ironic? Saved from one falling limb only to be impaled by another. I bury my face in the crook of my arm, breathing in sweat to ground myself.