Page 75 of Sky and the Grumpy Troll

“The dragon.” He was looking up at me, calm as anything, tied to a bed with his cock out and his eyes absolutely level. “How did you escape, Sky?”

“Oh, we’re not doing that.” I rolled my hips down, dragging myself along the length of him, and watched his jaw tighten. “We’re doing this. Need you inside me. Missed you inside me.”

I drizzled oil over his cock, then lifted up, lined him up, and sank down onto him, taking that thick troll cock inch by burning inch until I was seated full, stretched, gasping, and the look on his face, the want, the surrender, the way his hips wanted to buck and he held them still for me, almost made me forget what I was hiding.

It almost did.

“Sky. You’re avoiding the question. And I’m the king of avoiding questions, so I know. He said he stole you to fuck you. How did you escape?”

“I’m riding your dick, big guy, try to keep up.” I started to move, slow and filthy, working myself on him, and I leaned down and bit his collarbone and clenched around him to feel him groan. “You want to talk about dragons? Now? When I’ve got you exactly where—”

“I can feel you.”

I went still.

“I don’t have my hands on your horns,” I whispered.

“And I can still feel you, Sky,” he said. “That’s a big deal.”

“You’re trying to maintain control, but your emotions are chaos right now.” His voice gentled, and that was so much worse than if he’d pushed. “You can tie me to every bed in the county, Sky, and I’ll still feel it. You’re terrified.”

“I’m in charge.”

“You’re terrified, and you’re in charge, and those can coexist.” He pulled at the cord, and it creaked, and I should have known then, I should have known what was coming, because nothing in seven counties was going to hold Moerrven Mossren if he decided he was done being held. “I have all night. How did you escape the dragon?”

And I don’t know if it was the calm of him, the want of him, or the unbearable patience, but I panicked, and I leaned down to put my mouth on his to shut him up, and that was when he moved.

He didn’t strain. He set the muscles of those thick arms, and the tie gave way like wet paper, like it had never been anything, like the only thing that had ever held him was the sheer power of my will. His hands were free and on me before I’d processed that the rules had changed. One huge palm spread flat across my back. The other gripped my hip. And he held me still, seated all the way down on him, buried to the root, pinned there on his cock by a strength I had spent this entire relationship politely pretending he didn’t have.

I could not move. I was held in place like a kitten by the scruff, full of him, gasping, and the realization went off in my chest like a flare.

He’d been letting me, the whole time. I knew that, but the power with which he held me now made it completely clear. Every time I’d pinned him, ridden him, tied him, called him my good boy, he’d been choosing it, lying there and handing me the wheel because he wanted me to have it. His surrender had never once been weakness. It was a gift, and I’d been too busy steering to see the size of it.

“Moerrven—”

“How,” he said, holding me impaled on him, even as I tried to move, his eyes blown black and steady on mine, “did you escape the dragon?”

“I’ll punish you,” I said, and it came out wrecked, breathless. “I’ll — you can’t just. I’ll make you wait a week, I’ll—”

He didn’t move. He held me there, buried deep, and waited, and looked at me like he already knew, like he was only going to make me say it because I needed to hear myself say it. The fight went out of me all at once.

“He didn’t want me,” I said.

His brow lifted.

“The dragon.” My voice had gone small. “He could’ve kept me. He’s lonely, he’s so lonely, Moerrven, and he liked me, and he could’ve just — but he didn’t want me. He let me go.” I swallowed. The thing was coming up out of me, and I couldn’t stop it now. “He didn’t want someone who was already in love with somebody else.”

Everything went quiet.

I watched it land on him, watched his expression change as he processed it, the way my words went into him and broke something loose, some last careful stone, and his whole face, the grumpy, beautiful, guarded face I would have crossed any number of oceans for, came apart.

“Say that part again,” he said.

“I’m in love with you,” I said. “Obviously. Keep up.”

He flipped me.

The world turned over, and I was on my back in the rumpled bed with my legs shoved up and Moerrven settling over me, into me, his cock still buried deep. He shifted his hips and ground in, and I sobbed at the angle of it, at the size of it, at the way he looked down at me like I was the only fixed point in a long and drifting life.