CHAPTER 7

RISSA

Osrik's dark brown eyes shine. He blinks several times, like he's trying to staunch the moisture there, and I see his own jaw work, as if he too is trying to chew down these emotions neither of us seem to be very good at feeling.

It's nice—knowing I'm not alone in that either. We're both feeling around in the dark, trying to find our way, but at least we're doing it together.

His answer is gruff and low and, for a man who claims to not be very good at words, also quite perfect. "It would be my fucking honor, Rissa Bell."

A tear threatens to slip from my eye, but I sniff and clear my throat. "My last name is Caddell."

"Your last name is going to be Ferox soon, because that's mine."

He abruptly stands up with me in his arms, making me squeal in surprise, so it takes me a couple seconds to realize what he said.

"Wait a minute, I'm not marrying you!" I blurt out, staring at him aghast.

"Yes, you are."

He sets me gently on the bed, and I sit up, bracing my hands behind me as I glare at him. "I most certainly am not . Marriage is a cheat."

Standing at the foot of the bed, he smirks at me. "How so?"

He looks ridiculously good standing like that, but I'm not to be deterred. "It legally ties the woman to the man. Gives him all the rights and gives her none. Makes him seem respectable, affording him more freedom in the process, while the freedoms of the wife are limited even more."

"Okay, so we won't marry," he says with an easy shrug, as if I haven't just said what most men would consider blasphemy.

"Just like that?"

"I'll get you a ring. To us, we'll be married. Without any of the bullshit. It's just for us—for me and you. Think you can handle that?"

I feel shaky, my adrenaline not used to being flooded with so many feelings. Sniffing, I wipe at the corner of my eye and then straighten. "Well. I suppose that would be fine."

His gaze flashes. "Yeah?"

My heart flutters, though I keep my face impassive. "I do adore jewelry, and rings look quite nice on my fingers," I say, holding out my hand and wiggling my fingers.

He captures my hand in his, threading his thick fingers through each of mine, clasping tight as he bends one knee on the bed. Leans over me while I tip my head to look up at him.

"You'll wear my ring, Yellow Bell?"

I nod slowly, and the hunger that comes in his eyes makes my stomach go hot. "Yes, but I hope being captain of Fourth's army pays well, because my taste is very expensive."

He chuckles, and great Divine, I do love how the sound seems to travel all the way down my back. "You get whatever you want, so long as I get you."

I swallow hard, and I feel like I'm filled with bubbles, ready to float right off the bed. I tug on his hand, pulling it to my waist. "Touch me."

The hunger in his eyes magnifies. He drags his hand up, cupping my breasts through my clothes, and it feels wonderful . "Are you sure you can handle me?" he asks quietly, his massive hands continuing to massage, to knead and grip.

"Are you sure you can handle me ?" I retort as I let my head hang back, relishing in his touch.

What I don't say is that it's been a while for me, and before Osrik, it was King Midas. It was a job. It's always been a job.

An undercurrent of humor ripples through his chest. "If I couldn't, we wouldn't be here."

He's right. He's the only man in the world I think actually can handle me.

Reaching up, I make him drop his hold for a moment, while I slowly start undoing the buttons on my nightdress. His eyes drop, watching raptly as the fabric parts inch by inch. My cleavage is revealed, the curve of my breasts uncovered for his roving gaze. My chest has gone slightly pink, and every breath tugs at the fabric, making it nearly fall open.

Instead of pouncing, he fists his hands, continuing to watch.

So I part it the rest of the way, tugging off my sleeves, letting the nightdress drop behind me and baring myself to him, naked everywhere. His eyes flow down my body like water rushing over a parched ground. He soaks in every inch, making my skin go hot everywhere he looks.

Is this what real attraction feels like? Without the strings attached? It's quite…exciting.

And incredibly nerve-wracking.

"You're fucking gorgeous."

I've heard many men compliment my beauty in the past, but when it comes from Osrik, it sounds different. Feels different.

With heartbreaking gentleness, he skims his thumb over the healing scar that's cut across my heart. I can see the flicker of shadows in his eyes as he remembers me being on my deathbed, but I grip him by the chin, shoving his gaze back up to my face. "I'm alright. All healed."

Humming at my words, he lets his fingers fall from my scar to dip down to my nipple. He circles it, making it harden and pluck up at his undivided attention.

He groans before leaning in to kiss me against my neck, hand grasping my breast, palm scraping against the pointed flesh. "So fucking pretty and soft."

I may be soft, but he's hard—all over. His callused hands, his muscled arms…and especially the length bulking up the front of his pants. The sight makes my thighs press together in anticipation.

Leaning forward, I tug at the laces at the top of his tunic, pulling the strands loose. Then I strip him of it so that my own eyes can take in his impressive chest. His body is the largest and strongest I've ever seen.

My fingers come up to trace over the dark hair covering his upper chest, before dropping down the planes below his defined pecs, and then even further to his thick, rock-hard middle.

His skin is marked with old scars, some faint, some deep. All of them cut into his tan skin like words carved into wood. Telling a story of hurts and heals, of time spent and blood spilled.

"Pants," I tell him, snapping my fingers before I point at the delicious lines disappearing into his trousers.

I want to see all of him.

The corner of his lips tilts up, hands dropping as he undoes the laces. In an incredibly sexy move, he stands and kicks off his boots, letting them land with a heavy thump.

Then he lets his trousers fall, and my eyes widen on his cock. "All that is Divine and blessed…"

I have seen thousands of naked men. I have seen just about every shape, size, and curvature there is to a cock. Osrik is huge . Girthy. With the perfect flared head and a length that makes my stomach clench. And that vein—I don't know what it is about that stretch of pulse along his shaft, but it makes me want to run my tongue over it.

"It'll fit," he says, as if he thinks I'm intimidated and that's why I'm staring.

And I am staring.

Am I slack-jawed? Utterly preposterous. I was a professional for goodness' sake.

My eyes yank up to his still smirking face. "Oh, I know it'll fit. It's just that you're a man who's actually big everywhere ," I say with open appreciation.

He shrugs. "I'm a big man, so I have a big dick."

"That's not always the case, and yours is quite impressive."

Laughter blows out of him. "Yeah?"

"Honest to Divine, the biggest one I've ever seen, and I've seen many naked people."

His smirk drops. "Don't talk about seeing many others, or I might ask for every single name of every single man you've seen so I can fucking kill them all."

I hum. "That would be a lot of men. Some women too."

"My jealousy doesn't discriminate, and I'm thorough."

My smile is so wide my cheeks ache. For some reason, I like the possessiveness he has for me, because it doesn't feel cruel or overbearing. It doesn't feel like it comes from a place of anger or insecurity, but from a place of protective devotion.

"Well, then…prove how thorough you can be," I say, my tone seductive as I finally let my hand trail over his erection. It's hot to the touch, and I trace that vein all the way to the root, where I let my fingers drift over the hair at his groin and then cup his balls. He growls under his breath, the sound filling me with thrill.

Hand curling around his girth, I squeeze, making him jolt out another throaty noise as I stroke up and down once, twice, three times. A bit of precum beads out, and I dip my fingertip to catch it.

"How do you want me?" I purr before I sit up on my knees. I drag my fingertip tantalizingly between my breasts, spreading the bead of his moisture all the way down to the juncture of my thighs. "On my back so you can play with my breasts as you fuck me?" I demonstrate just that as I lie down. "Or do you prefer me like this?" I say, twisting over the mattress until my knees are beneath me, arms keeping me upright. "Taking me from behind as deep as you want, gripping my hair and watching my ass bounce with every thrust?"

I look at him over my shoulder, ready for him to tell me how he wants me, ready to please him, ready to perform.

"Come here."

Surprised, I turn back around, brow arched as his knee braces on the bed and he leans over me. Heat travels from his body to mine, his scent filling my nose. His hard, heavy cock calls me to reach out and grab it again. To stroke and caress and see what other noises this beast of a man will make with my touch.

"You don't have to do that," he says.

I pause. "Do what?"

"You don't have to play a part, or check with me, or gauge my wants like it's your job to please me. I just want you ."

Instant defensiveness rolls down my stiffening spine, but he grips my hand before I can pull away. "Hear me, woman," he rumbles. "With me, you aren't a saddle. You're just you. That means you do whatever the fuck feels good for you . In whatever position you want. I'll take you from behind, from front, backwards, forwards, upside fucking down. I'll slam you against the wall or be fucking sweet in a tub. Don't worry about pleasing me, because I promise, I'll enjoy every second of whatever we're doing, however we're doing it, because I fucking love you. You get me?"

My heart pounds. How can his words make me feel both small and incredibly powerful at the same time? This feels like a chastisement, but also something so sexually liberating. My mind can't quite decide if I want to argue or not.

Then he asks, "How do you want me , Yellow Bell?"

And I can't be mad at that.

There's heat all over my body, and a vulnerability that chases it with chills. I think for a moment, feeling his steady grip in my hand. He doesn't rush me. He lets me sort it out.

No other man. Osrik is like no other man I've ever been with.

Tentatively, with my pulse racing, I let go of his hand so I can grip him instead by the shoulders, and then I yank . He lets me move him, which I'd never be able to do by my strength alone, and I position him until he's the one on his back, and I'm kneeling over him. My chest rises and falls, excitement and nervousness pushing against my ribs.

This feels new—like sex is some unknown thing to me, which is ridiculous. And yet…perhaps it's not so ridiculous at all. Because this isn't just sex, is it? This is intimacy . And I'm very, very new to that.

I move up and shift my leg over until I'm straddling him. He rumbles low in his throat, eyes latched onto my pussy. His hand moves to it, fingers skimming down my slit and stroking.

That means you do whatever the fuck feels good for you.

His words echo, urging me to do something I've never done before. I take his hand and guide him right where I want him, showing him without words exactly how I like to be touched.

I press his fingertips flat against my clit, moving him in a circular motion before going quicker and quicker, my own fingers pressing over the tops of his, guiding him, and he follows.

Unlike most men, Osrik doesn't get a bruised ego, nor does he try to take back control or ignore my quiet direction. He follows my lead, looking thoroughly pleased to do so.

"You like that?" he rasps out.

My head tips back, eyes fluttering closed as I simply let myself enjoy it. " Yes ."

"Your gorgeous cunt is wet. Getting my fingers covered."

He's right. Wetness is coating him, some of it even getting on my own fingers, ropes of delicious fire stretching from my clit and spreading throughout the rest of my body. His touch is perfect, and I let my hands drop with a moan, while he continues exactly as I showed him, not moving away or changing pace.

I brace my hands on his thick thighs and let myself rock with his motions.

Great Divine, this feels good.

My hair tumbles down over my shoulders, my body tightening all over.

"What else do you like?" he asks, his voice as deep and as hungry as a growl.

"Dip your finger into my pussy," I whisper.

One thick digit drags from my clit, and he hooks it inside, opening me. Even his finger feels thick, making me practically salivate at the sensation.

"Fucking hell, you're soaked and tight," he says before pumping into me. Again and again. Hooking that finger and rubbing against my insides while his thumb goes back to stroking my clit.

It feels amazing, but I'm not ready to come. I'm still climbing, yet to arrive at the peak. But I'm thoroughly aware of the seconds ticking by. Of the time he's spending touching me. I don't want him to get frustrated or discouraged. So my body picks up on my hurried cues. It's habitual.

My lips part and I cry out, a throaty moan filling the room as I pretend to orgasm. It sounds scandalously sensual. It sounds perfect. It's the same lusty cry I've made thousands of times before.

And Osrik…stops.

My eyes flare open and I look down at him. "What's wrong?"

His lips are pressed together in a hard line, his tongue messing with the wooden piercing on his bottom lip with visible aggravation. Before I can ask again, he swings me up and around like a rag doll, until I find myself lying over his seated position, ass up, head down over the side of his legs as he sits at the foot of the bed.

"What are—"

WHACK!

His palm comes down on my bare ass with a startling crack. I try to push on his leg to sit up, but his other hand clamps down on my back, pinning me in place.

"What are you doing?" I screech indignantly.

"You faked your pleasure," he grumbles, and then he spanks my ass again.

I cry out, and while it's not overly painful, his hand is large enough that the strike stings the entire cheek.

"Vow to me now, you will never fake it again."

I jerk my head around to glare at him. "You pompous, brutish, son of a—"

WHACK!

I squirm, the heat of the spank suddenly shooting right down to my pussy. He's not hitting me hard, but he's hitting with enough force that it makes my ass jiggle, makes the sting spread.

But the sting and the warmth blooms , feeding into an intense arousal.

I like it.

I'm irate that I like it.

"Stop!" My demand comes out as a moan, which makes my face heat with embarrassment, my anger surging even more.

"You stop first."

"The absolute nerve of you!" I holler. "I wasn't faking!"

WHACK!

"You were. Admit it."

I don't.

So he rains down smack upon smack upon smack. Until my stubborn ass is on fire. Until I'm like a spitting cat, ready to claw out his eyes. Not because of the pain, but because he's so thoroughly in charge of me admitting my lie.

Until finally, I give in.

"Okay! Fine! I faked it!" The words come out in a sputtering scream, and he stops instantly.

I'm trembling all over, from the biting pain nipping at my ass cheeks and also from the liquid desire thumping through my core. I'm so turned on right now, so dripping wet, I think even his wide girth could slip in without trouble. But gods, am I mad .

"How pissed are you?" he asks.

"Oh, I'm fuming ."

The hairy giant has the audacity to chuckle. With me still bent over his knees, my entire ass emanating heat, and wetness coating my thighs.

The absolute bastard.

"I didn't give you more than you could handle," he tells me before smoothing his rough hand over my smarting bottom. "And I wouldn't have done it if your body wasn't telling me it was exactly what you needed," he adds, dragging his finger down to my throbbing pussy.

I whimper out loud. I can't help it. The spanking sparked me to flame. "Asshole. Keep touching me."

He chuckles again. "I will. Just tell me you're not going to fake it anymore. Not going to rob yourself of your own pleasure because you're worried about mine or worried about me getting impatient." With his demand, his fingers delve. Spreading me open, making me suck in a breath. "I'm not going to get fucking impatient," he tells me, just as he shoves a finger into my slick entrance.

The noise squelches . It's humiliating how wet I am. My entire body feels like it's caught on fire, but he quenches that embarrassment when he groans, like he thinks it's actually the sexiest sound he's ever heard.

"How could I ever get impatient when I'm seeing you? When I'm touching you?" he grinds out, swirling his finger for a second before he takes it out. I look up to see him suck his finger into his mouth, licking my juices clean off with a satisfied groan. "How could I get impatient when I'm fucking tasting you?"

He twists me until I'm sitting on his lap, chest to chest, though my ass is saved because each of my thighs is on the outside of his, my bottom hovering in the space between his legs.

"You don't fake with me. You not ready to come? Then that's fucking heaven for me because it means I get to keep touching you." His mouth comes down, beard scraping against my neck. "Get to keep tasting you." Those lips press against mine, making me taste my own arousal with decadent wickedness. "Get to keep fucking you…"

Pulling back, he looks into my eyes. "Now take your pleasure, Rissa ."

His command is like a release all its own. A bubble of pressure suddenly popping and expelling an excited bliss.

I grip him hard, making his cock jump in my hand. I stroke up and down, watching his face, delighting in his expression of craving. Then I shove him back, and he goes easily, his weight making the bed shake as he lands.

Straddling him once more, I drag one of his hands to my waist and the other to my clit. "Touch me."

He does. Exactly the way I showed him.

I grind over his cock, and the sensation of his hard, hot length beneath me is erotic. Exciting. Every time I shift my hips, teasing him and dragging my wetness over him, he lets out a groan and watches me with rapt attention.

"Fucking perfect," he tells me.

"Not quite…"

Reaching down, I wrap my hand around his width, fingers not quite meeting. With excited flutters in my stomach, I lift up, lining him up with my entrance, and then I slowly, slowly sink down.

Great Divine…

The stretch is unbelievable. I wasn't lying when I said he's the biggest I've seen, and certainly the biggest I've ever had. My body works to accommodate him, and I close my eyes, letting myself slowly descend, letting myself feel every single inch until I've dropped down all the way and I'm so full I have to remind myself to breathe.

I look down at him, and he's watching me like he never wants to look away.

Then, I start to move.

Slowly at first, getting him coated in my wetness, working myself up and down, rocking back and forth. I test every movement to see what I like. To see how he feels best in me while he keeps dragging his touch over my clit, making me even wetter, even hotter.

"You feel…"

"Fucking perfect," he finishes.

Yes. Exactly that.

My hips roll as I grind myself into him, against him, and every nerve ending is lit up like lanterns. I'm hot all over, like I could combust into flames. But I need more.

"Flip me," I order.

He does it in a heartbeat, moving me so easily it makes my stomach jump. Then I'm beneath his powerful body, and my legs are curled around his hips. He thrusts into me, making my eyes roll back with pleasure so that I barely even notice the stinging of my ass as I'm pressed into the mattress.

I reach down and rub my clit with one hand and cup his balls with the other, my breasts bouncing with his movements as I moan and writhe.

" Fuck ."

He leans down and sucks my nipple into his mouth, lathering it with his tongue, then moving to the next one and dipping his mouth between both. His tongue is hot and exploring as his cock drives in and out of me.

"Harder…" I moan.

He doesn't just start fucking faster. He knows exactly how to drag in and out with his deliciously slow, hard strokes. The breath explodes from my lungs with every snap of his hips, going so deep with his massive cock I swear I can feel him all the way up to my ribs.

His powerful thrusts jolt my body up the mattress until I nearly hit the headboard, but he just drags me back down, one hand hitching up my hip so he can angle me further. So he can get even deeper . So he can make love to me with a fierce and devastating rhythm.

I don't just fall over the peak. I explode out of it, like molten lava expelling from the mouth of a volcano.

My pleasure bursts free, tearing from the very center of my core, spraying me in heat, gushing over us with wetness. I scream from the bliss of it, from the totality of it all, my entire body covered in my own rapture.

Osrik drags his perfect cock in and out, fingers digging into the skin at my hip, and he captures my mouth, tasting my breath. Then he drives into me so hard it steals my sight, eyes squeezing shut as he groans against my lips.

His own molten lava floods into me then, spurt after spurt, until his balls empty and his head drops down against mine, and all we can do is pant and clutch each other.

When I'm finally able to talk again, I peel open my eyes and look up at this man who completely took me by surprise in every possible way. "That was…"

"Like I said. Fucking perfect," he growls again before he cradles my body into his and turns us so I'm lying on top, his cock still latched inside of me, my pussy still fluttering with the aftershocks of our pleasure.

The best pleasure I've ever felt. Not faked. Not forced. Not rushed. And certainly, not a job.

For the first time, I experienced pleasure not as a saddle. I experienced it for me…because of him.

Looking over, I take advantage of his closed eyes and watch him as he holds me with possessive adoration.

"Well?" he asks, cracking one eye open as if he could sense my gaze. "Are we a mistake, Rissa?"

The answer is easy, and I smile at him. "The best mistake I ever made."