Page 20 of Plaything of the Dark Elf

Dalia

Ipush Etheron’s tattooed chest to no avail. “No. I don’t want to get fucked in front of your men.”

He grins and his deep, rich chuckle rumbles through me, down to my core where it stokes the fires of my body.

“If you keep fighting me like this, I’ll have no other option but to do just that. If my men see a human deny me, I’ll lose all respect.” His tantalizing grin fades. “I’ll have to beat you to death with my cock in you.”

My spine stiffens and the smears of blood on his arms stand out as bright as the sun.

The nice rooms and attendant twisted the reality of my situation. I’m Etheron’s sex toy. I’m his slave. If he wants to fuck me in front of his men, he can. He has every right. The truth burns in my chest, but it only reignites my desires to escape. For now, I’ll have to do as he says.

I scowl at him, but nod.

His grin returns. His hands slide under my dress.

Powerful fingers trace up my thighs and despite how much I hate this monster for owning me, the slick heat between my legs is desperate for his touch.

I resist the moan that crawls up my throat, but it escapes when he grabs my ass and pulls me up against him. My legs wrap around his waist and my hands grip his built shoulders. I growl at my body for reacting like this to him.

He chuckles and walks with me out of the sparring grounds. When the dark elf attendant follows us, he holds up a hand, stopping her in her tracks. “Stay here.”

The baritone rumbles through me and I bite my lip to keep from moaning again.

My eyes drift to his men, all glaring and grinning.

Heat splashes my cheeks and I bury my face in Etheron’s chest. Their laughter chases me, but Etheron’s hand pulls my hair, tilting my face up for another scorcher of a kiss.

I hate that his lips are so good, I hate that his tongue has no problem finding its way past my lips, and I hate that I’m pressing myself harder against him. I’m already unable to resist him given his position, but not being able to resist his body?

It’s humiliating.

It’s one thing to lay back and let him have his way with me, but to grind against him, for my body to encourage his, for little moans begging for more to come from my throat against my will…

My back hits a wooden door. When he opens it, it swings wide till it smashes into a rack of spears.

A yelp rips from my throat as the sharp, clattering steel peeks around the door.

Etheron laughs before attacking my lips again.

I dig deep to resist him, and while my lips firm to battle his, my legs wrap tighter around his waist as my hands pull on his lats, begging for more of his weight.

He sets me down on a table in the center of the room. His heavy muscle pours over me, pushing me to my back but then he stands, towering over me with a smirk that tightens my jaw.

As he leaves to close the door, my eyes dart around the room.

Sharp steel juts from every corner. Can I do it? Can I really kill him? Sneak out and run to freedom?

Before reason takes hold, I grip a knife and tuck it under the small of my back.

Etheron chuckles, locking the door with an iron bolt. He struts back to me and I’m not sure if he’s flexing or if he’s swollen from all his exertion in sparring. Either way, he cuts an imposing figure, even for a dark elf.

He unbuckles his pants, letting the black leather slide down to his mid-thigh.

His erect cock springs free and I curse the saliva pooling in my mouth. My grip squeezes the knife under my back and helps to harden my resolve.

Placing his hands on the table next to my shoulders, his black hair cascades down, framing his strong features. Gray eyes rip into me with a salacious hate I’ve never faced. “Do it.”

I glance down at his cock, hovering an inch above my wet entrance. I reach down with my free hand to grip him. A shock of its power lances through my hand, up my arm and into my heart.

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