Page 15 of A Troll in the Hay
“Cleaning products are used to prevent pregnancy in humans?”
She sputters and snorts, her lips curving into a glorious,full smile. “Not cleaning sponges. Vaginal sponges. One is inserted before sex.”
“I am not familiar with this item, but if it was designed to absorb human semen, one will be inadequate with me. You would need to insert many sponges if you hope to absorb the full volume of my ejaculate.”
By the time I finish speaking, tears are running down her cheeks and her body is shaking with amusement. “It doesn’t work by absorbing all the cum,” she says, gripping my arm for support as she bends at the waist, giggling uncontrollably.
“But that’s what sponges do—absorb liquid.”
“Oh, my stomach,” she groans, folding her other arm across her middle. She gasps when I scoop her off her feet, wrapping her arms behind my neck as I carry her into the drive shed, where I set her carefully on a large storage box.
Crouching in front of her, I gently smooth her hair from her face. “Do you need medical assistance?”
She catches my hand and presses her cheek against my palm, smiling at me. “It’s just a stitch from laughing. You’re so sweet.” Turning her face, she presses a kiss to my work-roughened skin before breathing me in. “You even smell sweet.”
“From the apples. I haven’t washed up yet.”
Her gaze travels to the top of my head, then she releases my hand so she can carefully extract another remnant from working in the orchard. Dropping the leaf to the ground, she threads her fingers throughmy hair, first one hand, then both. Her gentle, deliberate touch renders me powerless.
Unable to resist, I groan at the like rake of her nails against my scalp. Close my eyes when she switches to a massaging motion with her fingertips.
“Ogram,” she says quietly. She’s biting her lip when I open my eyes. “Can I tell you something? Something serious.”
“Telling me about inserting sponges in your vagina wasn’t serious?”
Another infectious giggle leaves her smiling lips. “I suppose it was.”
“You never have to ask. Anything you wish to say to me, I want to hear it.”
“That’s going to take some getting used to. Most people tune me out, or come right out and tell me to stop talking, but you actually want to listen.” Her hands leave my hair and fall to her sides, her shoulders drooping, even as she gives me a half smile. “People assume that because I’m a nonstop talker, I must be shallow. Like I don’t have the capacity for depth because I’m a motormouth. But that’s not true.”
Hearing that others have judged her, hurt her, awakens feelings I have never before experienced. More than protectiveness. A willingness, readiness, to avenge. It swirls like a tornado inside me, its power spreading through me until I feel the tingle in my fingertips. A sensation not unlike the green magic trolls possess because of our connection to the earth, but lacking clarity of purpose.
“I do not think you’re shallow,” I say, curling my fingers toward my palms.
“I’m glad.” She reaches for one of my fists, molding her delicate fingers over the back of my hand. If she feels the energy I’m trying to suppress, it doesn’t register as such, though her face does brighten as our skin meets. “I came to Harmony Glen to experience a monster-integrated community, but I had no intention of getting involved with anyone, of any species, or having sex on this trip. Then you happened. I just want you to know that wanting to have sex with you isn’t just about sex. It’s about you.”
Our bond as mates, she feels it. Acknowledges it in her own way.
“This is where you say something so I know if you believe me or?—”
“There is no ‘or,’” I say, cupping the back of her head in my palm and bringing my mouth to hers.
Her soft gasp quickly becomes a moan, her fingers once again threading through my hair as she opens for me, both lips and legs.
I take both invitations, dropping to my knees between her thighs, pressing against her everywhere possible and kissing her deeply enough to taste her soul. Her beautiful, warm, open soul.
She wraps her legs around me, pulling me tighter. “I want you,” she whispers on a breath between hungry kisses.
“And I, you, but it will require preparation.”
“Then prepare me. Please,” she says, guiding my hand to the front of her jeans.
I pop the button and lower the zipper, licking my lips as I slide my fingers down the exposed V of soft skin, then beneath the edge of thin pink lace. “Gods, I want to devour you,” I murmur against her neck as my finger slides through the soft warm slickness of her crease.
“Oh, whoa, sorry,” are the words I hear next. Not from my mate. “Didn’t think anyone was here.”
Withdrawing my hand, I refasten Hope’s pants before standing in front of her to block her from my employee’s view. “I thought everyone had gone for the day.”