Page 37 of Sky and the Grumpy Troll

“It’s very quiet,” I said.

“It is peaceful.”

“Peaceful is what people call boring stuff when they want to say something nice.” I stretched my legs out on the bench, letting my bare feet rest in his lap, because I had taken my sneakers off an hour ago and he hadn’t complained. “How long until the next village?”

“Six hours. Perhaps seven.”

“Seven hours of this?”

“Of pleasant countryside, yes.”

“Moerrven, I spent the night six feet from a man who snored like a dying horse, and I couldn’t suck your cock, and I have needs.”

His ears flushed blue. “We have discussed your needs in some detail.”

“I want you to know that sleeping three feet from you, fully clothed, after buying an entire leather goods collection, was genuinely painful.”

“I still don’t completely understand what you intend to do with the leather goods.”

I reached back and picked up the riding crop, turning it over in my hands for a moment, letting him think about it, before I tapped it lightly against my palm with a crisp snap. His jaw tightened.

“I am driving the wagon.”

“You are. You’re doing such a good job. Keeping Clover on the road, eyes forward, hands on the reins. Very responsible.” I shifted closer on the bench, tucking myself against his side. “I wonder how responsible you can stay.”

“Sky—”

“Remember how much you wanted to distract me from my sorrow?”

He frowned. “I did?”

“Yes. You can’t have me moping about the fact that a turtle could find Pip more quickly than we are.”

“We are making good time!”

“Are we?” I reached up and grazed the base of his left horn with one fingertip.

Moerrven’s hand spasmed on the reins, and Clover flicked an ear back at the change in tension.

“Don’t stop driving,” I said. “I’m just going to sit here and keep you company.”

He exhaled through his nose. “You are not going to keep me company. You are going to torment me.”

“Mm, maybe. But you enjoy torment, don’t you?” I pressed my thumb into the warm groove at the base of the horn, right over the trolgar gland, and his whole body went rigid. I held the pressure for three seconds, then released. “What’s the trolgar telling you right now?”

“That you are—” He swallowed. “Pleased with yourself.”

“Accurate. What else?”

“Aroused,” he said. “It’s intense, far more intense than your other emotions, almost as if you’re deliberately projecting—”

“Am I?” I widened my eyes. “I don’t even know how to do that. Maybe I’m just naturally this horny. It’s been over twenty-four hours since I came, Moerrven. That’s a long time for me.”

“You say it as though it is a deprivation.”

“It is a deprivation.” I worked my thumb in slow circles on the trolgar point, and his breathing went ragged. His hands were white-knuckled on the reins. Clover plodded on, unbothered. “But I’ll stop if you want me to stop. Do you want me to stop?”

His lips parted. His eyes went half-lidded. “No, please don’t stop.”