Tamsyn
Standing in front of the mirror in the bathroom, she studied herself.
After spending the afternoon watching an eye-opening movie with lots of bare skin and hands-on action, she was all kinds of tingly and not a little curious about her own body for once.
All in all, she wasn’t repulsed by herself, which was something. Her bones were no longer poking from beneath her skin, or not as horribly, anyway. Being made to eat on a regular basis—Merrick’s dark stare wasn’t to be argued with—was putting weight on slowly, and because she wasn’t exerting all her energy on a mountain of chores for her father, she was keeping it on.
She even had breasts now. Well, sort of, she supposed, laying her hand over one. They weren’t flat, but they weren’t full like the woman’s on screen. In the movie, the guy had been pulling and pinching her nipples, sucking on them until the woman moaned.
Experimentally, Tamsyn tugged on her own pink bud, frowning when nothing happened. The nipple firmed, but even when she pinched it, she found there was no reason to moan.
Huh. Maybe they were defective.
Her shoulders slumped. Merrick really would refuse to do anything naked with her if she was defective. Although, she supposed what her body did or didn’t do wouldn’t have any effect on what his did, right?
Jedidiah often explained that a wife was in her husband’s bed for his pleasure, not hers. He was the one who needed to be satisfied in order to be a pillar of the community. He was the one whose reputation rose or fell depending on how well his wife pleased him; the trade he’d made for that wife was only considered successful if he was happy.
She stroked her hand down her stomach. The many bruises were mostly gone, although a couple of the worst ones were still vaguely visible in pale shades of green and yellow.
Merrick had removed the stitches in her flesh when she was sleeping, leaving behind faint scars from her clumsiness. She should probably use them as a reminder not to run blind through a forest, but she couldn’t promise not to do so again if it was necessary.
Better to be cut and bruised than strangled by a husband.
If her breasts were faulty, there was likely no hope for the spot between her legs.
Staring down at the brown curls at the apex of her thighs, she hesitated before running her fingers through them. They were soft and dense, not short and trimmed like the movie lady’s. Did men like them that way?
Did Merrick?
Tamsyn moved her fingers lower warily, touching the warm flesh. Her lower lips were flat and useless, the opening between them dry. Even the little nub at the top felt numb and unresponsive.
She heaved a sigh.
Utterly useless.
Merrick would never want her.
“Up to mischief, little owl?”
Surprised, Tamsyn yelped, cupping her hand over her sex as she spun and flattened her back against the mirror. The cold glass hitting her from shoulders to butt wrenched another shocked cry from her throat.
As though she’d summoned him, he stood in the doorway, his arms leaning on the jambs above his head. The pose screamed hunter , and the hunger in his eyes warned her he’d found his prey as his gaze roamed down her body, locking on where her hand rested.
Her nipples instantly poked out, begging for that hot stare to land on them.
Not so defective, then.
Flustered, she brought her cast up to cover her chest, then lowered it slowly when Merrick shook his head.
“What is that naughty hand doing between your legs, darlin’?” he drawled.
Swallowing hard, she could only blink.
“Are you petting your pretty pussy?”
She shook her head adamantly.
“No? That’s a shame.” He dropped his arms and stepped forward. “Are you wet?”
Oh, he was in that kind of mood. She’d seen some of that look in his eyes before, when he kissed her, but it wasn’t this… volatile. Then, there’d been surprise lurking behind his hunger, as though the kiss surpassed what he’d imagined it would be like—it had certainly blown her mind; it was much, much better than what she expected her first kiss to be.
This was… dangerous.
She let her hand fall as she gave him a headshake. When he took a step toward her, she instinctively tried to retreat, but there was nowhere for her to go. Her belly clenched, her muscles squeezing tight.
Merrick tsked softly. “When you’re all mine and broken in, Tamsyn, you’ll get wet when you think about me. My voice will make your cunt spasm with the need to be filled.” Every sentence brought him another step closer. “One look at my hands and your panties will be dripping.”
Mouth open, she stared at him. Never had he been so explicit, so forward . The dirty words coming from his mouth were in his voice, but a darker, more… seductive version.
He stopped in front of her, his hands pressing against the mirror above her head, and leaned down to whisper, “My cock will bring you to orgasm again and again, until the bed is soaked in your juices and your pussy fits me like a glove.”
Oh. My. God.
Her hand fluttered to her throat.
“I came home early to take you to dinner before we tackle some important paperwork,” he said quietly, his breath warming her ear. “Finding you exploring yourself is the last straw, Tamsyn. I want to touch, but you need to want to be touched.”
Oh, she did. She wanted to know what it felt like to be stroked by him, if his skin was as rough on other parts of her as it was when he held her hand. How would it feel to be caressed by a man who cared for her instead of groped by traders searching for their next bride? Even though she’d been off-limits, they’d tried their luck.
Breath unsteady, Tamsyn lifted her hand from her throat and pressed it to his heart. She tried to say the word, but still she was cursed with muteness. Only a high, quiet squeak was audible—the affirmation he required.
“Remember your safeword?”
She’d never tell him, but she’d been practicing the finger snap until it was flawless; she could produce a quick, loud pop of sound with little effort.
When she demonstrated, he nodded in approval. “That’s perfect, darlin’.”
Shifting, he rested a forearm against the mirror and leaned his weight on it, using his other hand to snare her throat. The firm yet gentle pressure didn’t scare her; if anything, it had the opposite effect. Prickles of awareness spread out like tendrils from his touch, reaching deep beneath her skin to stimulate her from head to toe.
As though guided by his thoughts, Tamsyn shuffled her feet apart to alleviate the throbbing in her core. A shiver trickled down her spine at the sound of his chuckle.
“Don’t think you’re gonna have issues wearing a collar, are you?” His nose pushed into her hair as he inhaled. “My collar around your neck, my cuffs on your wrists, and my cock wedged to the hilt inside you.”
She moaned in longing, drawn into the visual images he painted.
Trailing his fingers down to her breast, he grinned at her. “Sleepy little owl by day, dirty girl by night.” His thumb skimmed her nipple, bringing it to a taut peak, then pinched it with help from his index finger. “Always beautiful, no matter what.”
Not defective, she discovered as pain spiked from her breast to her sex. Not defective at all . As her core clenched, desperate to feel something inside her, she realized she just needed another’s touch to bring her body to life.
No, not another’s…
Merrick .
Squirming against the mirror, Tamsyn watched his eyes darken until the green almost disappeared into the blackness of his pupils. The focus in them was deadly, locked on her breasts as he switched from one to the other, rolling her nipples, adding pressure bit by bit.
Oh yes, she just needed him.
Whimpering, she grabbed his hand, dragging it down to where she needed him most.
Merrick cupped her curls, his fingers not quite where she wanted them. Those eyes bore into hers, questioning, seeking, until he asked, “Are you sure, darlin’?”
She wasn’t stupid. She knew there was no going back after this—she would crave him even more than she did now, and he… that tenuous control he kept wrapped around his fist was liable to snap. She felt it, that constant struggle within him to do the right thing while his idea of the wrong thing beckoned.
If she said yes, would he go all the way?
Was she agreeing to more than just his hand between her legs?
Did it even matter?
Everything she was revolved around him. When she woke in the morning, it was his sleepy rumble that set her world to rights. It was his smile that rekindled happiness from dead memories and forged new ones. There was something in him she couldn’t resist; it was like the jagged edges of her soul slotted perfectly into his.
Anxiety made her head jerk up and down in jittery assent.
Confident as ever, Merrick eased his fingers lower, finding the squishy nub she’d touched earlier. Only her body reacted more violently than she expected, her hips thrusting as he circled it with a fingertip. “This is your clitoris, Tamsyn. This and your G-spot are gonna be your best friends.”
Her breath quickened, her brain torn between chasing the sparks of pleasure and finding the rhythm of his finger. Circle, circle, a gentle slide through the wetness pooling at her entrance. Circle, circle, slide. Circle, circle, slide, dip.
The bluntness of his fingertip stretched her slightly.
Every warning he’d given her about his size and his preferred bed partners ricocheted through her head. Now she knew why he’d warned her, and so often, but just as she predicted, it was too late.
She was beyond caring.
“Anything ever been inside you, little owl?” Merrick’s tone gentled, became soothing. “Fingers, tampons, toys? Have you experimented with yourself, played with this treasure in the dark?”
Absolutely not. Community laws stated a bride offered in trade must be in possession of her hymen. Any bride who didn’t bleed on her wedding night was forfeit to punishment doled out by her husband, and the trade was null and void.
“All right, this is gonna sting, darlin’. Just for a few seconds, but it won’t feel good.” He bent his head to tease her mouth. “Take a deep breath and kiss me, Tamsyn. Give me everything you’ve got.”
Circle, circle, slide, dip .
She sucked in a huge breath and pressed her lips to his. Humming softly, she lifted her hand to his neck, digging her nails into the skin of his nape when the circles became faster, the slide shorter. She couldn’t focus on kissing him when her thighs were trembling, her attention on that single digit.
Circle, circle, slide, dip… push .
Her body went rigid as he relentlessly drove his finger inside her. One knuckle, then two, until the bridge of his hand prevented him from going any further, aided by her own copious lubrication.
His mouth slammed over hers simultaneously, drinking in her yelping cries as her sex stretched around the width of his digit. Her channel rippled around the intrusion, inexperienced muscles quivering around him helplessly.
“I’m a dead man,” he muttered under his breath, breaking the kiss. “Gonna go to hell for defiling a virgin, gonna die working my cock into this superior pussy, but by Christ, darlin’, it’s gonna be fucking worth it.”
She needed to sit down.
When her legs gave way, Merrick chuckled and looped his other arm around her waist. “Easy, Tamsyn. Relax into it, it’s gonna feel strange. Let the shock pass for a minute, then we’ll find out what makes you feel good.”
She didn’t understand this urge to push her hips down, to take him deeper. Though she felt stretched wide and full, something told her to move, to ride his hand, grind into him until the pressure abated.
He didn’t push her for more. For the next few minutes, he kissed and nuzzled her throat, adoring her with tongue and lips, nipping lightly at her skin until she squirmed with building sensitivity.
When she finally stopped trembling, he kissed her mouth. “Stop or go, little owl?”
Murder was on the cards if he stopped. While she wasn’t a fan of the burning pain, she understood it was necessary. A sacrifice or—even though she hated thinking it—a trade of sorts. Physical pain in exchange for a physical connection.
Besides, it could be worse.
She doubted the fat, balding family friend who’d told her to call him Elder Frank all her life would’ve been careful when he pinned her beneath that bulbous stomach and made her scream.
She’d have been his fourth wife in two years.
Of course, if she went back to the community now, the only celebration the elders would facilitate was her funeral, and she’d be lucky if she got an unmarked grave in the reviled section of the cemetery—more likely was the disposal of her body by throwing it over the designated ledge further up the mountain, letting it bounce as far it could down the mountainside until it could go no further, then leaving it to the bears and wolves.
Even if she didn’t lose her virginity before the elders found her, she was tainted.
Worse, in their eyes, she was sullied by a man not of the community.
Oh yes, her time was limited.
So why was she hesitating? Wasn’t it sweeter to die knowing she was loved? That the one thing she had of any value, the one thing her father needed to uphold his standing in his beloved community, was given to someone who deserved it instead of an old man who bought it?
Poor Merrick. She couldn’t tell him what had happened to her in the years before she met him, or explain what was coming in the future. When she disappeared, he’d only have memories; the same ones she’d relive in the moments before she died.
These memories.
Careful to hide the sadness in her eyes, she slid her hand from his nape to his cheek, cupping it the way he liked to do to her. She finally understood why—there was a beautiful kind of intimacy in the gesture, a connection passing from face to hand that made her heart ache.
Lowering her hand to his chest, she traced a G over his heart, followed by an O .
“You want the bed?” he asked gruffly.
Just you , she thought, shaking her head. Always, only you.
There wasn’t much time to think after that. The thick digit inside her flexed, curling slightly as he moved it in and out gently. Her arousal simmered, flaring each time he touched a magical spot.
In and out, in and out.
Her hips picked up the slow rhythm, rocking to meet the in-stroke, falling away from his withdrawal. Small, greedy moans hummed in her throat, quietly urging him on.
“We’re crossing a line, little owl. This pussy is gonna come all over my fingers, then it’s mine.” His teeth pinched her earlobe, the nip of pain clamping her muscles down on him. “It’s gonna come on my face, my tongue lapping up every drop of sweetness, then it’s mine all over again.”
Tamsyn arched as he pulled his finger out to the tip, whimpering as he added another and stretched her open for a second time.
“Once it comes on my cock, it’s game over for both of us. My cock is the last you’ll ever know, the only one you’ll ever need. This beautiful, perfect cunt…” He growled like a beast snared by a chain around its throat. “I’ll ruin you, darlin’. I’ll ruin you so good, I’ll be your addiction. When I’m through with you, you won’t be happy unless I’m balls deep in your pussy or wedged in your ass. Game. Fucking. Over.”
Clawing at his chest through the soft material of the shirt, she shivered at the threat in his voice. He used such bad words to paint vivid images, encouraging her hips to respond.
Those fingers moved faster, plunging into her with wet noises that sounded obscene to her ears. The pad of his thumb settled on her clitoris, rubbing small, tight circles around the nub. He kept stroking her inner wall, toying with her until his fingertips struck some magical spot that made her buck and squeal.
“Oh, that’s where you need me, hmm?” Merrick kneaded the magic button, laughing quietly when her eyes rolled back. “Hate knowing I’m gonna hurt you when I get my cock in here, little owl, but fuck, I can’t wait. I love the expressions you make, how you react. You’re gonna come now, you’re gonna let go and come hard. Can you do that for me, darlin’?”
Honestly, she didn’t think she had a choice in the matter. The more pressure he added to her system, inside and out, the more she felt herself splintering at the seams. Muscles tightening from her scalp to her toes, her body gathered to reach a pinnacle she wasn’t ready to tackle.
“My cock won’t give you a choice,” he murmured seductively, twisting his hand to bring her up on her toes. “When I fuck you, I’m gonna spend an hour hammering this dripping pussy into submission, Tamsyn. Pounding it until you come with a word, begging for more, screaming my name like you’re dying and praying to God.”
That hit too close to home. Whether it was the morbid idea of his name being the last word she spoke before her heart stopped beating or simply his artistry with dirty talk and skilled hands, she didn’t know, but whatever the cause, the reaction was undeniable.
She felt everything seize at first, from her thoughts to her lungs to the squirming of her body against the mirror. She, in her entirety, was reduced to a quivering mess, poised on the verge of something huge and unknown, waiting for the pinprick to pop her like a balloon.
Sensation filtered over her scalp, down her spine, as the knot of pleasure in her belly expanded to the point of pain. Her eyes lost their focus, her ears were deaf to everything but Merrick’s voice.
“Take the leap, little owl. Just let go. Nothing bad is gonna happen.”
Pain flicked across her clit; his fingertips jammed hard into that spot.
She’d didn’t just pop, she detonated.
Blind, she fisted her hand in his shirt, leveraging her hips to get his fingers as deep as they could go. Her channel clamped down on him, the muscles squeezing him in fast, jerky spasms. Beautiful, radiant pleasure enveloped her like heat on a cold day, lifting her up, sending her soaring.
She stayed there for a while, her body frozen in gasping, soundless bliss, while her mind found a freedom so blessed, it brought tears to her eyes.
When she drifted back into Merrick’s arms, the first thing she saw was the adoration in his eyes, followed by a sharp spike of hunger in the green as he eased his fingers out of her and sucked them clean.
That was… different, she thought numbly.
“Delicious,” he purred dangerously, then swung her up against his chest when she started to slide bonelessly down the mirror. “Good girl, Tamsyn. Very good girl.” The pride in his voice pulled a string in her chest, twanging her raw emotions. “Go ahead, cry it out. I won’t let you go.”
Burying her face into the warmth of his shirt, she didn’t cry the way she thought. A few tears escaped, soaking into the material, but they were more from relief than anything else. Instead, she focused on the stroke of his hand on her back as he paced the bathroom floor, rocking her with quiet reassurances murmuring in her ear.
Was this what it felt like to be loved?
When she finally stopped trembling and her body went limp in his arms, she tilted her head back against his shoulder, gazing up at him with her heart in her eyes.
No matter what came next, she would always be his.
The kiss he laid on her lips was soft and sweet, a different kind of soothing.
Tamsyn said a silent thank you to a God she’d never believed in before for sending her to him.
*