If you enjoyed this story, check out the author's debut short, The Willing Virgin Sacrifice – Part 1 of The Demon Curse:
Innocent orphan Lorna is convinced she is bad luck. Her village suffers from famine and plague, and blame it on an adjacent camp of demons, who are trapped in the area by an ancient curse. When Lorna leaves to sacrifice herself to the evil creatures with the hopes of alleviating her people's misfortune, she doesn't know what to expect.
What begins as a dangerous journey through a snowstorm, soon becomes a hot and steamy first-time sexual awakening, and nothing about the curse and about Lorna herself is quite what it seems.
Excerpt:
Sigrun let the fur cape drop from her shoulders, and pulled her back against his chest. He trapped her against him with one arm across her ribs, below her breasts. “Did you cast a spell to dispel the curse?” he asked, “Or is it just your presence?” His breath was hot on her ear. His other hand roamed down her side, down her thigh, below her ass. He squeezed one cheek, his handling rougher than Thrain’s had been. She lifted to her toes.
“No spells,” she breathed. Thrain studied her face. She was keenly aware of how trapped she was, but Sigrun’s attentions were making it hard to think. He released her cheek and caressed the skin below, lazily trailing to her inner thigh. She adjusted her stance to spread her legs and give him easier access. She realized she was panting, and tried to slow her breathing. Why did they keep asking her about spells? She felt his dick hard against her back, and leaned into him, pressing herself against it. Why wouldn’t he just touch her, already?
Thrain looked over her shoulder and exchanged a look with Sigrun. Thrain shrugged. Sigrun whispered in her ear, “You aren’t allowed to come until you tell us the truth.” Thrain put his mouth over one of her nipples and circled it with his tongue, slowly, and held the other, making circles with his thumb. She moaned and closed her eyes. He kneaded her soft flesh, switched his mouth from one side to the other. Sigrun continued to touch her inner thigh, caressing the skin but staying away from her center.
“Are you a witch?” he asked. She shook her head, moaned again. She longed to touch Thrain, to touch either one of them, really, but her arms were pinned at her sides beneath Sigrun’s strong grip. There was no escape, but she wouldn’t have wanted to, if she could. “Answer truthfully.”
“I’m not a witch.” She could hear the strain in her own voice. Sigrun chuckled. He toyed with her between her legs, touched her outer lips, touched the wetness there, but gave her no pressure, no friction, none of the real contact she was so yearning for. Thrain grazed a hardened pink nipple with his teeth, and she gasped. If this was how they questioned their prisoners, it was an exquisite torture. Were they going to try to make her beg? Words tumbled from her mouth unbidden. “I’m not a witch. Rumor was, my grandmother may have been. I never knew her. I never knew my own mother. I don’t know anything about magic. I swear it. I swear it!”
Thrain and Sigrun exchanged another look, and this time Thrain nodded.
Or check out another short by the author, Chasing the Wolf:
Foul-mouthed Jersey girl Cathy is finally in the home stretch of her bridesmaid nightmare. If she has to endure one more dress fitting, watch one more wedding show, or glue one more craft together, she's going to lose her damn mind.
When she encounters what appears to be a tame wolf on the edge of the woods, she leaps at the excuse to sneak away. What she finds beneath the moonlight, though, is a very handsome, very naked man, telling her that werewolves are real and that they met by fate. But she's far more interested in his body than his words...
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