Page 17 of A Brat's Tale
I knew he wasn’t going to gut me, but there was a high probability he would fuck me. His fingers trailed over my body like he was trying to figure out if I was real or just an apparition. His eyes darkened, and his mouth latched onto mine. It wasn’t a kiss; he was trying to suck the tongue from my mouth.
My body bent with his. Bayaden is a force that cannot be denied and that night I wasn't going to try. It never escaped me that I was still married, but desire is a powerful influence. I can’t say it was right, but it didn’t feel wrong either.
I wanted him, Ineededhim, so I continued to let him. I wish I would have at least tried to say no, but I wanted him. The Gods help me, I wanted him.
Elves are promiscuous creatures, but Corrik had shown what a possessive arse he was; many times, he’d expressed how much he wanted me all to himself.
The resentment surfaced.
I was forced into the marriage, taken from my home, my identity ripped away. I dreamed of the day I would become Warlord upon Father’s retirement. I earned my place as his successor, but Corrik didn’t care about that. Nobody did.
Now I had nothing. I had been reduced to a slave and there was something I wanted right before me—something I genuinely wanted with no one here to take it away or tell me I couldn’t have it. I didn’t get to want anyone other than Corrik in order to save my virginity for him. I wasn’t going to get to choose anything once we arrived in Mortouge; Corrik would have dictated my life down to the second.
I wasn’t called a slave, but I would have been one all the same.
Finally, I was going to have something I wanted, something I didn’t know for how long I would have it and I was going to enjoy the ever-living fuck out of it.
One thing that has always been certain about me and Bayaden is that we have chemistry, and more than one person noticed it from the very first moments. I denied it at first, but there was no denying it. I attempted to kiss him back, but he wouldn’t let me and moved down from my lips to my swollen neck, gentle there, then attacked my chest and torso with bites thathurtbut didn't break the skin. When he reached my throbbing cock, I was already gone, gone, gone.
“I did not expect you to taste so good, Tristan.”
He called me, Tristan. I didn’t even have to ask, and he called me Tristan.
He prowled on top of me, and I pushed my aching cock toward him. “If you’re going to fuck me, just do it already.” The waiting was torture.
“Is that what all this poor behavior is? You just needed a good fucking? Will that inspire better behavior, little human?”
“Unfortunately, for you I doubt it,” I said, smirking at him.
I expected anger at a remark like that, but he was wrapped up in some sort of spell. “I know the Gods are taunting me, but I must have you, Tristan.”
“Then do it.”
“No.”
But he didn’t move, hovering over me, his jaw hard and eyes dancing with a dangerous mix of lust and rage. He wanted permission. I knew something of the kind of restraint it was taking to stop now that we’d started. I reached my hand up toward his face, he flinched, but let my hand settle on his sandy brown cheek. “Fuck me, Warlord. Don’t leave anything behind.”
He nodded, taking one hand away from the bed to undo the buckle of his armored skirt in one, swift motion, tossing it to the ground with a clang. It was the first time I saw it; his cock and let me tell you, it’s huge, likehugeand for a moment I regretted telling him to fuck me, but not enough to take what I said back. It’s darker than the restof him and it leaked pre-come, his black pubic hair falling against the wet tip. He took my leg and was surprisingly gentle as he pushed it toward my head then used his shoulder to hold it there, so he could slide a thick finger into my arse.
I inhaled and cried out when he hit my prostate. I felt myself getting wet and chalked it up to Elven magic.Of course, they have a lubing-spell.I had to arch my back when he got faster and added another finger. I pressed down, needing more, wanting to feel him inside me, owning me.
Making me forget.
He finally pressed the thick head of his cock against my entrance, and I looked down, watching, fascinated until he was seated all the way inside me. All that day, I’d been in a dance with Bayaden, both of us trying to prevent this very thing from happening, but it was happening and now both of us hated ourselves even more. We used it. Once he was in and I was relaxed enough I wouldn’t tear, he pulled back to get enough momentum to slam inside me again. He wasn’t careful with me and I wasn’t careful with him. I treated the large Elf like he was a leather sandbag, used for sparing, whacking at his arms while he thrust, which remained firm as granite. I clawed at his shoulders and kicked my heel into where his kidney sat. It didn’t affect him, other than to ratchet his arousal yet another notch.
He likes the raw violence.
He was equally brutal, slamming into my arse, stretching my legs too far, slapping me across the face each time I kicked him too hard. We were two Warlords in a sexual battle.
At one point, I tried to flip him. I couldn’t of course, it was like moving stone, but my trying amused him. “I don’t think so, you’re meant to writhe on my cock, my lovely.”
I bit his arm for that, and he cried out, digging his hand into my short hair the moment I released him. “You fucking brat.” He fucked me harder as if doing so would subdue me.
I wouldn’t be subdued.
But in between all of that was the sex and it wasincredible. It was how I’d always pictured it might be with a future mate, except we’d beon the field in the mud. It would be after a long training session; we’d start with metal swords before we moved to ourotherones. He’d take me roughly and leave me bruised and satiated.
Bayaden hit all my buttons as he continued to hit my prostate, while we both continued our skirmish. “Stroke your cock, little human.”
