There was a flare of warmth, deep in Ella’s belly, and she couldn’t quite hide her smile. “Or else what?”
Those blinking black eyes narrowed at her, all mock imperious disapproval. “Or else,” he said, his voice deepening, “I shall make you wear this frock you hate. All the way to my mountain.”
His hand had reached down to weakly rattle at his sword, and Ella couldn’t seem to stop the sudden, lurking bubble of laughter from escaping her throat. “A dire threat indeed, Nattfarr of Clan Grisk,” she said, with as much solemnity as she could muster. “I shall sacrifice much to avoid such a cruel fate.”
His replying grin was life itself, shuddering deep into Ella’s bones, and bringing enough heat to her face that she had to look away. “In all seriousness, Natt,” she said, “what hurts? What do you need? What can I do?”
Her voice sounded panicky again, and she twitched at the sudden feel of Natt’s warm hand, curling against her knee. “You have done much,” he said, quiet. “I shall heal enough to walk, with mayhap one night’s further rest here. And thus, I expect” — he took a breath — “naught else from you.”
Ella blinked back toward him, at that sudden intent seriousness in his eyes. He was — letting her go. Giving her permission. One more chance to run. Even though heknewthose horrible men were still waiting for him. Tokillhim.
The tightness was back in Ella’s chest, and she managed a shrug. “Youkidnappedme,” she said again, and there was an unmistakable relief in those eyes, in his big body sagging back against the stone. And his hand on her knee had only spread wider, silently speaking of his approval, or perhaps even his gratefulness.
“Isthere anything else you need?” Ella asked, her voice oddly thick. “Food? More water? Anything to ease the pain? At all?”
Natt’s warm hand had begun sliding slightly upwards, sending a cascade of goosebumps up Ella’s thigh. “In truth?” he asked, his voice low, and at Ella’s replying nod, there was a wry twitch on his mouth, a clench of those fingers. “Then mayhap, lass,” he continued, even quieter, “might you suck my prick, for a spell?”
Wait, what? Ella’s mouth had fallen open, her wide eyes searching his scarred, battered face. “What,now?” she demanded, her voice shrill. “You’reserious, Natt?”
But his eyes were blinking again, his mouth grimacing, and his gaze flicked away, up to the low stone ceiling above. “Ach,” he said, “and you are not. Forgive me, lass, I am” — he grimaced again — “fogged, I ken.”
But Ella was biting her lip, her eyes darting up and down his form — and then catching, too easily, onthat. The sight at the front of his torn trousers, previously a large but indistinguishable bulge, and now — her breath choked — a shockingly long, thick tapered ridge. And as she stared, it seemed to swell even larger, pressing up against the trousers. Almost as if silently speaking to her, whispering of when she’d already done this, tasted this, just last night…
“Y-you really,” Ella managed, through her suddenly dry mouth, “think that willhelp?”
There was a low rumble from Natt’s throat, another swell of that hardness against the rapidly tightening trousers. “Ach. Pleasure is always good, for edging away pain.”
Always good. As if he’d done this innumerable times before, had his cock sucked to distract from possibly deadly wounds — and the sudden replying ache in Ella’s gut might have been sympathy, or raging jealousy, or both.
But her gaze had reflexively darted toward the cave’s small opening, and the truth of whatever was waiting beyond it. “But — themen,” she breathed. “What if they come? Or attack?”
“Then I shall speak this to you,” came Natt’s firm reply, his eyes glittering on hers. “I can smell where they wait. It is yet more than a half league away.”
Well. The truth was there in his eyes, in his voice, and another glance toward the exit showed indeed no sign of movement beyond. And that dog’s barkhadsounded a fair ways away, hadn’t it?
“Right,” Ella said, her voice almost a whisper. “Um. Well. Where should I begin, then?”
Because there was no question of doing it, suddenly — ofcourseshe was doing it again, if this would possibly help — and she was rewarded with a hoarse, guttural gasp from deep in Natt’s throat. And as she stared, Natt’s clawed hand dropped to his trousers, shoved them downwards, and carefully drew himself out.
And thesightof that — Natt’s black claws holding that swollen veined grey hardness, with such casual, familiar ease — seemed to catch something in Ella’s throat, and strike her entirely still. Watching, bated and breathless, as those fingers slowly, smoothly slid up, all the way to that deep slit, where they — Ella choked again — squeezed out a thick, viscous bead of white.
“Mayhap,” Natt’s low voice murmured, as his hand did that again, ohgods, “you shall first only touch me. You must feel me, and learn me.”
Oh. Ella swallowed hard, but her head somehow nodded, her eyes utterly trapped on the sight of his audacious hand, doing that again. Sliding up, milking out even more of that mesmerizing white — and this time, slipping a finger deep into that slit, coating it in the thick wetness before sliding back down again.
He’d let out a low gasp as he did it, slicking himself in his own seed, leaving that thick shaft wet and glistening, the distant light catching on every ridge and vein of it. And that clawed hand now slid down to to the thick, hairy base of it, nudging its suddenly massive-looking length toward Ella. Almost as if to say here, touch it, it’s yours.
And somehow, without at all meaning to, Ella obeyed. Her fingers moving up, shaky and careful, to only brush against it — but even that faint, feeble touch made it twitch purposefully toward her, while Natt’s mouth gave another low, heated moan. He’d liked that —ithad liked that — so Ella touched it again, longer this time. Feeling the astonishingly smooth velvet of him, both hard and soft at once, vibrating deep and powerful against her.
A thick gasp escaped Ella’s throat, but she scarcely heard it as she slowly, hesitantly explored him. Tracing over all those ridges and veins, up toward the strangely compelling head of it. And when she carefully mimicked what Natt had done, delving a finger into that deep, impossibly smooth slit, it was almost like it was — alive. Like it clenched against her, or perhaps evenkissedher — and then it spluttered out more of that white seed. Coating her finger in it, and then dribbling down the glistening, twitching length of him in thick, hungry rivulets.
Gods. The water flooded in Ella’s mouth, her groin clenching as the visions of last night — had it just been last night? — swarmed her in a rush. That huge, tapered hardness, coated all over with his wet, filthy seed, sliding up deep between her legs, spreading her apart —
“Taste it,” Natt’s voice whispered, soft, as his hand again stroked up and down, showing himself off for her. And fuck, it looked good, that long, veined, vibrating cock slicked all over with a viscous, glossy wet sheen. Even as more seed drizzled down into it, like a rich honeyed frosting on a delectable, irresistible treat —
Ella was leaning closer over him, looking, wanting, needing — but not quite daring to, not yet. And there was a heavy huff from Natt’s chest, and then the shocking, thrilling feeling of his other hand, brushing gentle butpurposeful against the back of her head.
“It is yours,” he whispered, in an oddly apt summary of his silent words from before. “Kiss it. Taste it. Drink.”
