Nightfall (Devil's Night 4)

“They’re releasing Godzilla vs. Kong soon,” I told him, kicking off my shoes.

His chest rose and fell in front of me, and I gazed at all the skin my fingers hummed to touch. I balled my fists.

“They’re both heroes,” he replied. “The ending will be ambiguous, Emory.”

“No.” I shook my head, pulling my shirt off and dropping it to the ground. “The directors have stated there will be a clear winner.”

He stared at my body, his breathing growing ragged. “What the fuck?” he griped. “Fucking writers.”

My clit throbbed, and I stared at his mouth, damn near tasting him and wanting to climb him so damn bad.

“So it’ll be Kong,” I stated, unbuttoning Rory’s pants around my waist. “It’s more hopeful for the underdog to win.”

He watched me, unblinking. “Japan will ban the film if Godzilla doesn’t win.”

“I guess he could win,” I told him, dropping the pants to the floor as rain hit my breasts, arms, and back. “With Godzilla’s arsenal, and the fact that he can fight on land and at sea…”

“And in the comic books, he battles God and the devil, for crying out loud,” he said. “What the hell’s Kong ever done?”

I leaned up on my tiptoes, our lips inches from each other. “Godzilla now also emits an omnidirectional blast.”

“He does?”

I nodded. “You missed it.”

Running my fingertips up his chest, I tried to swallow, but my mouth was too dry.

“Told you,” he said. “How’s Kong going to survive a molecular level attack?”

I pressed my body to his, my hard, little nipples aching against his heat.

He shook a little underneath my hands, and I couldn’t take it anymore. I curled my fists again, my body boiling, and I didn’t care that I wanted to squeeze the life out of him half the time—I wanted in his bed.

But I wasn’t asking for anything. I was taking it.

My heart damn near in my throat, I pushed him down into the chair to my left and hovered over his lips as I slid my hand up his chest.

He laughed, gripping the arms of the chair. “You want it?” he taunted. “You’re not getting it.”

I grazed my lips across his cheek, over his jaw, and down his neck, the hunger making my clit throb so hard I had to hold back a whimper as the rain fell all over my naked body.

“You don’t have to do a thing,” I whispered over his skin. “In fact…”

I slid my hand inside his pants and dived for his cock, fisting the hard muscle.

He gasped, his eyes going wide.

“You don’t even have to move,” I told him, pumping him slow and tight. “Stay right here, because I’m going to drain you dry.”

I squeezed his neck, gentle but possessive before sliding to my knees and drawing my claws down his chest and then his thighs.

He was mine. Straightening my back, I felt his eyes on my breasts as I untied the drawstring and pulled down his pants, just enough so I could take him out.

Water sprayed my hair, my chest, his stomach, and his face as he stared down at me, a cross between anger and excitement in his eyes.

But he wasn’t stopping me.

Fisting his cock, I stroked it as I kissed and licked his stomach, running my free hand around his waist, over his back, and up his chest. I nibbled and bit, dragging his skin out with my teeth before sucking it into my mouth, his body caving under me with every breath.