When Nelle Wychthorn was forced to sign herself away in marriage, she should have read the contract's fine print. Because she signs not with ink, but with blood. And that changes everything.
Season 1 'Of Crows and Thorns'
***
Fiery Nelle, the isolat...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I was frozen in place. I didn't know what to do or how to react, but my body did. My breasts tightened and something, right there, at the apex of my thighs, strummed. Heat spread from my core and had me sucking in a sharp breath, my eyes flaring wide.
"Is that your first feel of an erection, little bird?" He drove his hips up, angling and shifting me back and forth to bodily rub up against him in an obscene carnal move.
The friction of rubbing against his erection had my sex throbbing with an exquisite, greedy sensation. Pleasure exploded from my core, sweeping down my legs to the tips of my toes, up my chest, over breasts growing heavy, nipples tightening—
Holy.
Hellsgate!
Gods, it felt like nothing else.
Once or twice I'd touched myself with inexperienced, fumbling fingers. But that was nothing compared to this.
"Is it?" he coaxed, voice gone velvet.
He knew it was. He knew I was a virgin, that I'd confessed I'd never kissed anyone.
He groaned, low and guttural, his eyelids growing heavy, as he slid me back and forth. His smoldering eyes, dark and primal, were locked on my mouth. My gaze dipped down as his tongue darted out to wet his full bottom lip, white teeth flashing.
And I inhaled a tiny gasp, everything inside me melting at the sight. His gaze flicked up, and I squeezed my eyes shut. I couldn't let him see my weakness. That every single inch of me hummed—for him.
Yet, I couldn't resist from purposely squirming against him to deepen that lustful ache spearing through my center. My movements made his erection pulse and grow harder, and gods, the feel of that considerable length only intensified that greedy strumming between my legs—
His erection felt enormous—
My core grew slicker, dampening my panties.
My eyes flew open and shock rounded my mouth.
How could I be aroused by someone who despised me this much? How could he?
I didn't understand. "You don't even like me."
"I despise you," he said with a half-smile, almost with sorrow.
"Your..." What do I say, what do I call it?
"My what?" His gaze sharpened and his smile broadened. He knew exactly what I meant. "Go on, my what?' he purred, challenging me.
I cleared my throat. "That thing pressing into me says otherwise."
"Cock."
I spluttered, my cheeks heating, refusing—
He flipped us both in a whirl of male strength. His hard body pressed me deeper into the soft mattress as he raised my arms above my head. One of his hands caged mine and the other hand wound my braid around his wrist. His fingers fisted my hair, tugging to arch my neck and give him access.
