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“I think you’re ready for me again,” he murmured and she nodded, unable to speak.
He pulled her over him this time, his big hands guiding her down over his shaft. She moaned as he entered her, the stretching ache and the delicious burn of the oil an exquisitely torturous combination. The small vines around his shaft grew even more active, flicking around her clit and sending her into a hard, fast climax.
He quickly rolled them over, thrusting harder and faster as he found the spot inside her that had driven her wild earlier, sending her spiraling into another climax. He continued to piston his cock in and out, the vines continuing to dance around her clit, and she came again, shaking around him as he finally exploded inside her. When her breathing steadied again, he carried her to the shower, gently washing every inch of her body.
By the time he dried her off, she felt like she was floating, her whole body sated and lax.
“I think I’ll be able to sleep tonight,” she mumbled.
He chuckled and pulled her back down to the bed with him.
“Sleep well, little bird. And then we can do this all over again.”
She fell asleep smiling.
Over the next week, they found new ways to enjoy each other, those times merging into their other activities - a strawberry picking session that ended with her on her knees at the end of the row, half of her body stained with strawberry juice as he drive into her from behind, or a visit to check that fish traps that was interrupted by a long slow lovemaking session on the sunny bank. She enjoyed every moment, but she couldn’t help feeling that there was an almost desperate note in the way he turned to her so often, as if he believed it wouldn’t last.
She no longer had any doubts that she wanted to be with him, but Thorn’s warning still lingered at the back of her mind. Could the two of them remain in their isolated idyll for the rest of their life?
Perhaps her thoughts conjured him up because the next day he emerged from the bushes once again, as tall and imposing as he’d been the first time. She was spreading more tomatoes out to dry and her heart started to pound. Marsh had gone off to visit the trading network and she was alone for once. While she didn’t think Thorn would hurt her, she didn’t want to be alone with him.
“Are you looking for Marsh?” she asked as she rose to her feet, proud of how calm she sounded.
“No. I know he’s not here. I was waiting for him to leave.”
Her heart thudded against her chest.
“Why?”
“Because I wanted to talk to you alone.”
He paced a few steps back and forth before fixing her with a burning green gaze. His eyes were so much like Marsh’s that she relaxed a little.
“Do you love my nephew?” he demanded. “At least as much as what passes for love amongst you humans?”
“I… I do.”
The knowledge had been creeping over her for the past two weeks but this was the first time she’d fully acknowledged it. Although it was a relief to say it out loud, it should have been to Marsh, not his uncle, and she gave him a resentful look.
“Why do you want to know?”
“There’s a problem in the swamp.” He took a few more steps. “The man at the house where you used to live - he’s creating havoc.”
Her mouth went dry.
“Harold? What’s he doing?”
“Tearing up the swamp looking for you. I assumed he would give up, but he shows no sign of doing so. He’s destroying habitats and trampling nests, not to mention shooting anything that moves. It has to stop.”
“Yes, of course. But what can I do to stop him?”
“Go back to him. He will forget about the swamp then.”
She gaped at him in horror.
“Go back to Harold? To being abused and forced to marry him? That’s your answer?”
He shifted uncomfortably, but his mouth was set in a stubborn line.
