“Thanatos,” I pant.
He grins. “This, however, is perhaps what I enjoy most—when I am fit so tightly inside you that I am not quite sure where I end and you begin. I love it all far too much for my own good.”
“Thanatos.”
“Yes,” he says, flashing me a wolfish grin, “say my name again like that.”
“You are a bastard,” I whisper
I feel him grin against my cheek. “I’m your bastard.”
I swallow.
“Yes,” I agree. “You’re mine.”