Page 13 of A Troll in the Hay
The sun has set and the moon hangs in its place,joining with the streetlamps dotting the boardwalk to bathe the area is subtle white light. Enough light for me to see the muscles flexing and moving beneath the shirt stretched taut across his shoulders and back, and how small my foot looks between his large green hands as he gently brushes the sand from my skin.
Having sand removed from my feet should not be an erotic experience. Tell that to every nerve ending in my body. Each swipe of his palm is like a tug on an invisible thread anchored between my legs. By the time he moves to my second foot, I’m biting my bottom lip to hold back a moan that belongs behind a closed bedroom door, not on the beach boardwalk. My knees go into jelly mode, and I sway a bit.
“I have you,” he says, his hand molding to the dip of my waist. “Hold my shoulders if you need to.”
Need? Oh, I need. Just not in the way he means. Placing my hands on his shoulders does the opposite of steadying me. My palms seem to have a mind of their own, sweeping over every broad, solid inch I can reach before moving to his ears, where I trace one long, erect point with the tip of my index finger. “Should I stop?” I ask when he tenses beneath my touch.
“It is best if you do.” Returning my foot to the ground, he grips my hips with both hands and holds me firmly while leaning in and pressing his face against my dress, his nose nudging the fabric between my thighs. He inhales deeply, then looks up at me with hungry eyes. “I want you more than you can imagine, Hope.”
“I want you too, so why are we fightingit?”
“Because, the way your scent is affecting me, I’m not certain I could resist rutting were I to be inside you.”
“What if I don’t want you to resist?” For a split second, there’s wildness in his eyes, and I think—no, I hope—he’s about to fold me over his shoulder and cart me off to some shadowy spot and make good on his words.
Then he rises, nostrils flaring and chest heaving as if he’s just exerted himself. “There is more to the rut than deep, relentless penetration.”
“Just so you know, saying you’ll give me ‘deep, relentless penetration’ is doing the opposite of scaring me off.” It’s part teasing, part flirting, and based on his unflinching intensity, neither thing hits the mark. “Okay, I’m listening. Tell me the ‘more’ that you think I won’t be able to handle.”
“The rut is nature’s way of assuring species continuation.”
“Species continuation?”Oh.My mouth goes dry and my panties do the opposite. “As in, you’d be intentionally trying to…impregnate me?”
“Yes.” That single word comes out deeper than any other he’s said to me.
I’ve never given motherhood or children much consideration, and what little thought Ihavemustered on the subject sure didn’t happen on a first date. But none of those dates were with Ogram.
Wildly premature as it is, I can picture myself with a big round belly and Ogram by my side. Imagining a family with him is like one of those blissful, soft-around-the-edges dreams that happen in the placebetween awake and asleep. The kind you never want to end.
“Now you understand why I must be careful.” His calm, even-toned voice snaps me out of the fairy-tale vision.
“Because you don’t want to get me pregnant.”
“No,” he says, shaking his head. “Because I do.”
Chapter Six
OGRAM
After a long day, I drive the tractor into the drop-off area outside the barn, pulling a wagon carrying full bins from this afternoon’s apple harvesting. My farmworkers are deservedly on their way home, and I intend to fill my remaining waking hours with jobs I can do alone. Much like any other day, aside from my mind not being focused on the tasks at hand.
All I can think about is Hope. Her spirit and honesty and humor. Her beautiful smile and voice and laughter. The silkiness of her hair and softness of her skin. How sweet her lips and breath tasted when we kissed. How desperately I wanted to taste the rest of her before sinking my cock into her well-satisfied, willing body, where I’d rut until my cum didn’t just fill her, it overflowed from her thoroughly fucked cunt. Then I’d do it all over again.
Now I never will. Any chance I had of claiming my mate is gone. I knew it the moment I admitted the entirety of my desires. Too much troll truth, far too soon. The shock on her face when she looked at me was only surpassed by her quietness during the walk to her cabin. Silence in opposition to her natural tendency for conversation. I didn’t kiss her goodnight or ask for another date. Nor did she.
Finding my mate, the most important event of my life, and I ruined it on our first date.
I climb down from the tractor, shaking my head as I walk toward the drive shed to get the forklift. Halfway there, I freeze on the spot, tilting my head back to catch a scent on the evening breeze. Her scent.
“Hi.” She gives a little wave as I turn in her direction. Today she’s wearing jeans and a floral shirt that’s tied in a knot at her waist, and white sneakers that have no place on a farm. Much like their wearer, even though I want nothing more than to see her here every day until forever runs out.
“I didn’t expect to see you today.” Or ever again, though I keep those words to myself. I would rather have her disgust than her pity.
“I was here earlier. Well, nothere, here. In the Harmony Market store. I thought you’d be there on a Saturday, but your employees told me you were working in the field all day.”
“Farming doesn’t care about weekends, especially in harvest season. We wait months for crops to be ready,then have a brief window to reap everything before poor weather and cool temperatures arrive.”
“And right now, it’s apple season.”