Escaping Death

Happy Thursday everyone :)

This marks the End of Book 3. I was waiting for the new cover to be ready but this story had been renamed Escaping Death. I think it was just a better reflection of the story and a fun play on words.

So without further ado...the finale of book 3: Escaping Death.

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Solana

I said it.

I breathed life into the words I pushed to the bottom of my heart like ignoring them could make them untrue. And it feels really fucking good. It feels good to just let that one truth be enough. I don’t know what tomorrow will bring, I don’t know what it’ll mean for us in the long term or for the rest of the guys, I just know that right now I want to stay with them.

Ace unleashes a feral grunt when I bite down on his bottom lip and grind myself along the bulge in his pants. If this escalates the way I hope it does, it’ll be the first time we’ve both been together with clear heads. Not out of anger, not out of desperation, not out of heat. But because it’s what we want.

His hand descends down my back, over the curve of my ass, and between my legs which willingly open to him. It’s not until he presses at my entrance that I tense with alarm. “Ace, don’t, I’m bleeding.”

Fuck, of all days for this to happen.

But Ace doesn’t stop. He swats my hand away and draws his fingertips along my seam, again pressing for entrance. “I’m not bothered by it, Princess.”

“Fuck,” I practically mewl when he finds my sweet spot along my front walls.

He quickly brings me to the brink of release before pulling out and lavishing my breasts with attention. Air hisses through my teeth whenever he sucks my nipple between his teeth or when he squeezes my breast in his massive hands.

“Am I hurting you, Princess?” He eases up his grip.

“No, they’re just tender. But I love what you do to me.”

There was exactly one day last week when I forced myself to take an honest inventory of my body and symptoms. Sore breasts, minimal but noticeable cramps, super tired… it wasn’t a stretch to think I might have been pregnant. Irritatingly enough, I’ve learned that most early pregnancy symptoms are the same as period symptoms. Love that irony.

“How are you feeling?” His touch matches the softness of his voice.

“I’m feeling like I need you inside me.”

Ace presses his lips to mine and without breaking our connection he pulls me across his body so I’m on top of him straddling his legs. He rips through my shorts, tearing them off my body as I lift Eli’s hoodie up and over my head.

Ace shimmies his pants down, kicking them off the bed and then pulls his shirt over his head. We sit for a moment, completely naked, physically and emotionally it feels like. Laid bare before one another.

His length bobs impatiently between my thighs, his velvety tip slaps against my clit with every twitch. Reaching down between us, I stroke his length in my palm a few times before notching him at my entrance.

Automatically his hands go to my hips, easing me down onto him until he’s fully sheathed inside me. I start slowly, grinding and rolling my hips against him, loving the intermittent friction against my clit as it rubs against his base.

But more than anything I love the sounds I’m able to pull from him. In this moment I’m the one fucking him, I’m the one making him feel good. And that is the most empowering feeling in the world.

Ace doesn’t let me drive for long. After a few minutes of my slow, torturous grind, he sits up with me still in his lap. I expect him to lay me down or flip me over, but instead he holds me there upright in his lap. There’s not a single position more intimate than the one we’re in right now.

Both of us sitting up, one of his hands supports my ass and helps me get leverage to bounce on him while his other hand fists into my hair, pulling hard so my head tilts back exposing the column of my neck to him.

He peppers my face and neck with kisses as I bounce and he thrusts. There’s no hiding from him in this position. He hears my every whimper, he sees the need written all over my face, the vulnerability in my eyes. And I hear and see his.

Steam rises from where our erratic breaths mingle, his skin crackles with an intense electricity, and all too soon I feel that familiar build up. The coiling in the pit of my stomach winding tighter and tighter, I feel him beginning to stretch me wider and wider.

I rotate my hips against him as hard as I can but the knot forming in my pelvis makes it hard to slide him in and out of my wet channel.

“Solana, fuck baby, I’m not going to last like this.”

“Good,” I pant against his lips, “me neither. So. Close.”

Our rhythm falters as we both give into baser instincts, give in to what feels good. The base of his cock swells up, completely locking into me, bringing me right to the summit of euphoria. But it’s the feeling of his teeth sinking into my left breast and the warmth of his release coating my walls that pushes me over the edge.

My pussy convulses around his cock, milking his knot until he falls back, dragging me down with him.

— — —

Ace

My cock pulses for several seconds, the force of my orgasm practically causing me to black out. That’s how good it felt to finally release inside of her.

With my knot swollen inside of her we’ll be locked together like this for a little while. I lay us down so she can be comfortable and when her head hits the pillow beside me her glorious white hair spills out in waves around her.

Her eyes are a roaring green inferno, blinking at me sleepily. She fingers the mark left by my bite to her breast forcing me to drag my eyes away from hers and focus on the way she traces my claim.

A few inches away Hunter’s name is tattooed over her heart with claw marks across it. I thumb over the tattoo and it disappears on contact.

My brows furrow and I look back up at her, “you don’t have to hide your marks from me. In fact,” I graze my fingertips down her stomach and over her hip, “I’d like to catalog each and every one.”

She hesitates for a moment but eventually nods. “He has a matching one over his heart. We got them together.”

“What about this?” I touch the circle of flowers on her clavicle.

“My mother’s sigil, I’ve had it since I can remember.”

She tells me the story of every tattoo on her upper body, hiding them as we check them off. The wings on her back, the wolf on her shoulder, the dagger on her forearm. Then we move on to the scars.

“I didn’t inherit my mother’s speed, so the arrow head clipped me along my chin. I’ve gotten faster, though.”

“And this one?” I run my hand over the jagged scar on her calf.

She huffs out a laugh, “we were wrapping up an assignment in Alaska when this crazy fucker jumps out of fuck knows where and nails me with an ice pick mid air. In shaking him loose, the pick tore halfway down my leg.”

Her face brightens with a smile, “Hunter pulled him off of me and pinned him to the mountain side with that pickaxe. Right through his neck.”

“Hunter was too kind,” I mutter because if something like that happened today…it would not be a quick nor painless death.

When I’m able to slip free from her core we continue on down to her lower body. We eliminate every tattoo and scar until there’s only one left on her otherwise blemish free skin. Delicate purple flowers on long stems with even darker purple berries.

“Saving the best for last?” I tease her and she smiles warily at me.

“This is neither a tattoo nor a scar. It’s more like… a birthmark. It’s the only thing I can’t hide.”

It’s a beautiful flower that covers her hip and travels up and across so it just kisses her lower stomach.

Tate’s words filter into my mind, “She has a fascinating family tree. They’re all named after poisonous flowers.”

“Is this flower your namesake?” I ask her, remembering how she never actually showed us where her flower was grown in the Grove.

“The flower I’m named for thrives in the shadows.”

Sol nods, her eyes growing wide with alarm and I can hear her heart begin to beat faster. I study the flower more, I’m sure I’ve seen it somewhere but I can’t think of any flower that sounds like Solana. The only other names she’s been called are Sunflower and Sunshine.

“She wasn’t named for the sun.”

My entire body stills, full-on rigor mortis, as I refuse to accept how glaringly obvious it is to me now.

“Holy fuck,” I breathe, sitting up in bed and giving her birthmark another once over.

I know that flower.

“You’re Nightshade.”

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I hope you’ve enjoyed the story so far, their journey continues and wraps up in book 4: Queen of Death.

Book 4: Queen of Death N

<3