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.
Want spiraled up my chest, teasing my breasts and hardening my nipples. Making my toes curl into the soft, plush carpet.
Yes, yes, yes...
Graysen captured my lips and licked into my mouth. I whimpered into our kiss. I couldn't help it. The clasp of his hands on my body was harsh and demanding and utterly exquisite. The way his mouth moved sensually over mine with devastating command felt like a claiming.
A heated moment later, he kicked my feet wider and gripped me just under my ass, lifting me up. Pale locks of hair rippled around my shoulders with the abrupt motion as I slid up the wall, hitching my legs around his lean waist. And gods, his iron-hard erection lined up perfectly with my wide-spread sex. With a sensual roll of his pelvis, he ground himself right there, the erotic friction exploded straight through my core and my hips moved in the same eager rhythm as his, grinding back against him. "Fuck, yes," he growled, almost angrily. His groan was gruff. His kiss, a clear stamp of ownership, became more forceful. He was fucking me with his tongue and I knew that's how he'd fuck me too. Rough. Hard. Dirty.
"Who's kissed you before, little bird? Who's kissed these pretty pink lips?" he breathed between filthy, wet kisses.
Gods, does he really want me to answer? He already knows.
"Who?" he demanded roughly before he nipped my lower lip, tugging on it sharply with his teeth.
"Just you," I sighed, letting go of my dress to frame my hands over the planes of his cheekbones. To draw him in closer. To kiss him back. To meet the hard press of his lips and the stroke of his possessive tongue with my own plundering one.
My dress was pooled at my hips and the sensation of my breasts crushed against the hardness of his strong chest was incredible. An electrical storm raked across our skin where our bodies were pressed together. I moaned at the same time he uttered a guttural groan. Gods it felt sublime. The fabric of his t-shirt rubbed against my swollen aching nipples; the graze of his teeth and the scruff of his jawline on my soft skin; all of it heightened decadent pleasure.
Pulling free of my kiss, black hair slithered over his forehead as he glanced downwards and cupped one of my breasts, his forefinger and thumb gently squeezing a nipple, squeezing a gasp from me. "Fuck, you're exquisite."
The shock of the compliment made my heart stumble.
There was something delicious in the roughness of his hands, the scraping of his callouses against my soft skin and the swell of my breasts. Skin that had never been revealed to another. Breasts that had never been touched before.
I'm on fire. Every part of me is on fire.
My mind was trying to analyze all the sensations sweeping through me. But it was too much. He's too much. All I could do was run my fingers through his thick wavy hair and hold on and just feel.
