Page 204 of Shifting Hearts 1
“You’ll fuck me.” She glared defiantly at me, then glanced up. “Uh, both of you?”
Dagan laughed, closing his trunk around her in a fond sort of intimate hug.
“Mhmmm,” Bryn cooed.
Definitely not a no.
Then her eyes popped wide and she stared straight ahead, her lips parting on a heady breath that nearly earned her the privilege of being impaled on my cock in a breath.
I laughed as she wriggled her discomfort, scrabbling at the sides of her gnarled cocoon. “Dagan has his own ways of doing things, I’m sure.” Dagan rustled his agreement. “But I need your words, princess. You call it fucking now, but if the word ra?—”
“It won’t.” She watched me, swallowing hard, and pressed her body backward until Dagan shifted, his branches tensing. “I need you to fuck me. Both of you.”
That’ll do it.
“You do?” I closed the space I gifted her moments before, bracing my arms over her head. “Why don’t you tell us that story about your toy now, princess?” I crowded her, leaving her wiggling prettily against Dagan, and traced a line with my tongue along her cheek, tasting her tears. “Let us help you forget.”
For now.
There was no stopping her from having to face her fate and that of her family later. She could hate me afterward, but for now, I could give her something more.
But I didn’t want her to hate me afterward.
I pushed that sentiment aside and concentrated on memorizing the taste of her need, licking away the tears clustered at the corners of her eyes. My cock swelled as I savored her fear and arousal. I groaned, dropping my head to suck just as needily at her neck.
“I–” She licked her lips, craning her neck back to look into Dagan’s hard face, seeking something there. Forgiveness, maybe? “Ages ago I found sticks at the edge of the forest. I took them back to G- ah, the house, and thought I could make something of them.” She skipped over that section too fast, her words blurring together.
Sliding my hands behind her head, I massaged her scalp til her short breaths slowed to something more relaxed. “Take your time, princess. Make it sexy.”
Bright eyes pierced me as her head tilted her mouth toward mine. Soft lips parted in an ‘o’ shape. “You mean…”
I grinned slowly, letting my predator emerge along with my claws. “Yep.”
“Wait. Does that mean he gets… Wood? Like morning wood?” Her smile turned wicked.
“Stop.” I squinted at her. “Something’s wrong with you.”
Dagan rustled his leaves in agreement.
“Somany things.” Bryn tipped her chin down to rest her forehead against mine. “I didn’t know what to do. One of the older boys, he had a penchant for carving but he– He moved on before he could finish his projects. I think he was practicing making chair legs because his work left the um, surface smooth and with some ridges. And the top was rounded. So I sanded it,oiled the length up and made a, uh…” She peeked at me through her lashes, begging me to finish the story for her.
“No such luck, princess. Tell the nice tree what you did with his gift.”
She groaned softly and hid her face in her hands. “I made it smooth enough to slide inside me,” she whispered.
Dagan’s rustlings grew until the clearing roared with the sound. I joined her, looking up at him as he towered over us. The tree god’s eyes were hard, his face deeply lined and unforgiving. The trunk shifted around her and she pushed forward, into my chest with a softoof. Her fine hands curled into my silky shirt, she looked over her shoulder at the bottom of her dress.
“Not that I object, but why are you rubbing yourself against me again?” I cupped the back of her head and forced her to look at me. “Bryn?”
“You’re impossible,” she huffed. Her cheeks stained that telltale shade of crimson I fast learned meant she experienced a mixture of arousal and humiliation, and liked it.
“I am.” No need to deny the truth. “Dagan says we should remove your dress.”
Her eyes flashed at me. “He says no such thing.”
“True.” I bunched her slashed dress and ripped it clean from her body.
Bryn gasped and curved her arms around her breasts, crossing her legs and curling in on herself. It turned out she wore nothing at all beneath that thin, plain material that could have come from an old bed sheet. Knowing her family like I did, it probablywasan old bed sheet.
