Page 5 of Terrible Desires (Loving Monsters #8)
“Oh, little one,” the troll chastises, the timbre of his voice sending a shiver right through to my bones. “We were made for each other. Your body was built to house and accommodate the passage of a child. Believe me when I say, you can accommodate me.”
I watch with wide eyes as he rises to his feet, carrying me with him like a child’s toy. “Made for each other? You’re a fucking troll—or something—and I don’t even know your damn name!”
The troll chuckles, his laughter echoing through the pine glade. “My name is Sodor,” he says, “and your name is Brianna. There, now we are acquainted. Happy, little one?”
I stare accusingly at him as he holds me around the waist with one hand, the other stroking his heinously enormous green cock.
“Happy? Are you insane? I got lost in the forest, apparently ate glowing, cum-drenched mushrooms, was then on a chase for my life that I can’t even remember… and now you’ve just finger-fucked me. Happy is not the word that comes to mind!”
Sodor smirks, his warm breath washing over me. “You may not feel happy, but not once have you asked me to stop. Not once have you begged to be freed or returned to your cabin. Why would that be, little one? Is it because deep down you like the way I make you feel? Does the danger of fucking a monster thrill you? I think it does. You’re all smoke and no fire. You want this, whether you have the courage to admit it or not.”
My glare falters and my pussy twinges between my slick thighs. He’s not entirely wrong. I haven’t done any of those things. Maybe I really am a fucking whore? I wonder to myself—but Sodor hears of course.
“You are not a whore, pretty, curvy girl. You are my mate, and you are exactly as you should be.” He meets my gaze and his lips quirk in a way that makes my insides ache. “Now, would you like to be cured?”
My eyes widen and my breathing quickens. “How?”
“You may well not like the idea, little one, but my blood is the cure. If you allow me to feed you my blood, control of your own body will return to you.”
I feel my nose scrunch, but the chance at freedom is a tempting one. “Why would you do that? Aren’t you afraid I will run and report you to the authorities?”
Sodor’s booming laugh sends birds flying from the ancient, tall pines. “Oh, little one. I live between worlds. Most of the year I reside in the Shadow Lands of Faery. Your little boom-stick men couldn’t find me, let alone hurt me. The Veil opens only on All Hallows’ Eve. By the time you got back and made the call I would be long gone. But is that what you really want?” he counters. “Do you want to leave and see me hunted? Would you give up what could be your greatest chance at love and happiness?”
I purse my lips and sigh. I’ve never encountered the folk of Faery before, and certainly never been drug-fucked by one of its denizens … but like any soul who appreciates life, and treasures the diversity of the world, I would sooner die than see him captured, probed, or studied. The very thought sends icy chills down my spine. I despise when any creature, great or small, is treated cruelly. It boils my fucking blood. “I don’t wish you harm,” I tell him. “Free me.”
Sodor grins. “You will not run, little one. I know your heart. Even now your mind is racing with thoughts of Faery. Of what you have always thought to be nothing more than wonderous tales of children’s fancy.”
My heart thunders in my chest. He truly does know my heart. The second he mentioned the Shadow Lands of Faery my entire universe tipped off its axis and went into freefall. If he’s real and here, then Faery must be real. The chance to leave this mundane world and enter the realms of the impossible is so tantalizing it hurts.
The great green troll with long dark hair and piercing golden eyes pricks his index finger on one of his large tusk-like-fangs and presses it to my lips, forcing it into my mouth. “There, your strength and control will return to you soon, my Brianna. Swallow, that’s it. You’re such a good girl.”
Sodor’s blood is thick and warm and trickles down my throat, but instead of smelling or tasting metallic like human blood, it carries the scent of petrichor—of freshly fallen rain on the earth. With what strength I have, encouraged by his heady words of praise, I engage my lips and suck as best as I can on his cock-sized finger, helping as much of his blood get into my system to undo the strange, cum-fueled paralysis that afflicts me.
The troll sighs. “That is a beautiful sight, little one.” He gently pulls his finger from my mouth, our gaze unbroken as he licks the puncture wound, sealing it with his magical saliva. “I had fun pleasuring you,” he admits. “But if I’m to bury my cock in your hot mortal pussy, I want you to beg for it. I want you to want me.” He gently lays me down upon the soft, grassy moss of his island, beneath the swaying fronds of the ancient and gnarled weeping willow.
Through its branches I see the stars and slowly but surely, I feel my bodily autonomy returning to me. It starts with just being able to flex my fingers and wiggle my toes. Then, carefully, as my strength grows, I try to sit up, covered in just the shredded scraps of the outfit I started the day in. Scooching backward on my ass, the dewy moss cold beneath my pussy, I inch back until I’m propped up against the tree.
All the while Sodor watches me, hunkered down on his haunches like a great predatory cat.