"Here we are," Anchor says, stopping before a stone cottage that sits apart from the main village. Smoke curls from itschimney, and warm light spills from its windows. It looks like every traveler's dream of shelter—cozy, welcoming, safe.
"Home sweet home," he grins, pushing open the heavy wooden door. "Welcome to Anchor's Rest. Make yourselves comfortable."
The interior is exactly what he promised—a proper fire crackling in a stone hearth, furniture that looks handmade but sturdy, and through an open doorway I can see a large bed piled high with thick blankets.
For the first time in weeks, we're somewhere that feels like sanctuary.
"I'll get dinner started," Anchor says, hanging his coat on a wooden peg. "You two just relax. Put your feet up. Enjoy the sturdy bed. Tonight, you're my guests."
I catch Forla's eye and see my own relief reflected there. Whatever tomorrow brings, whatever dangers wait in the northern hills, tonight we can rest. Tonight we can be together without fear, without watching the shadows for enemies.
24
FORLA
The door barely clicks shut behind Anchor before Thoktar has me slammed against it.
His mouth crashes into mine, tusks scraping my lips, tongue forcing my jaw wide so he can devour me. One huge hand fists in my hair and yanks my head back; the other tears the front of my dress open in a single savage pull. Buttons ping across the stone floor like hailstones.
“Been hard since that bastard said the bed was sturdy,” he snarls against my throat. “Let’s see if he lied.”
He lifts me like I weigh nothing, legs dangling, and carries me straight to the bedroom. The firelight paints his green skin bronze and gold, every scar and ridge of muscle standing out in sharp. I’m already soaked, thighs slick, heart hammering so hard I can feel it in my clit.
He throws me onto the mattress. The frame is thick oak, built for sailors and storms, but the first bounce makes it groan ominously. I don’t care. I spread my legs wide and reach for him.
Thoktar strips with impatient violence. Leather rips, metal buckles clatter to the floor. His cock springs free, monstrous,flushed dark, veins thick as my fingers, already dripping. I whimper at the sight.
He climbs over me, knees forcing my thighs wider, and pins both my wrists above my head with one hand. The other wraps around my throat, gentle pressure, just enough to remind me who owns every breath I take.
“Tonight you don’t come until I say,” he growls. “Tonight you scream until your voice breaks. Tonight I ruin this little human body so thoroughly you’ll feel me for weeks.”
I nod frantically, tears of pure need already gathering.
He starts with my tits.
He sucks one nipple deep, tusks framing it, teeth scraping, tongue lashing until I’m arching off the bed. Then he bites, hard enough to leave perfect crescents, and switches to the other. Back and forth, over and over, until both breasts are swollen, red, dripping with his spit and my own helpless tears.
Then he moves lower.
He spreads my thighs until my hips scream, hooks my knees over his shoulders, and buries his face in my cunt like a starving beast. His tongue, teeth, lips, tusks, everything at once. He licks inside me, fucks me with his tongue, then sucks my clit so hard my vision tunnels. Two fingers slam in alongside his tongue, then three, stretching me open, curling, pumping, while his thumb grinds my clit without mercy.
I come screaming within seconds, back bowing, squirting over his chin. He doesn’t stop. He drinks me down and keeps going, forcing a second orgasm on the heels of the first, then a third, until I’m sobbing, shaking, trying to twist away because it’s too much and he just laughs, dark and filthy, and pins me harder.
“Stay still, little doll. I’m nowhere near done eating this cunt.”
He flips me onto my stomach, drags my hips up, and spreads my ass wide. His tongue spears into my asshole without warning. I scream into the pillow, the sound muffled and broken. He tongue-fucks my ass while four fingers now stretch my pussy, thumb still tormenting my clit. Another orgasm rips through me so violently I see white.
He rises up, lines his cock at my entrance, and drives in to the hilt in one merciless thrust.
The stretch is obscene. I feel every ridge, every vein, the impossible heat of him. The bedframe creaks dangerously beneath us. He doesn’t give me time to adjust, just starts pounding, hips slamming, balls slapping my clit with every stroke. The headboard smashes into the wall in a steady, violent rhythm.
I scream his name, claw at the sheets, come again so hard I squirt around his cock and soak the mattress. He snarls approval and fucks me harder, deeper, angling until he’s battering that spot inside that makes me lose my mind.
The bed gives its first real warning, an ominous crack of wood, but he doesn’t slow. If anything he speeds up, gripping my hips hard enough to leave bruises, using me like a toy built for one purpose.
“Gonna break this fucking bed while I break you,” he promises, voice ragged.
He does.
