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Lord Grim’s Witch

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Lord Grim's WitchFormat: Ebook
On Sale: September 6, 2015

Gisele, “The Witch of Grimoult”, has ended a long vow of celibacy, taken to ensure her independence from any man. Her new lover, Tibor the sheriff, isn’t any real threat because his reputation assures her he won’t be a possessive man. He’s lusty and charming, but the last thing he wants is to saddle himself with one woman.

When a wolf threatens her livelihood, she seeks aid from the new “Lord Grim”, never anticipating his price will be a night in his bed. What’s a woman to do? Lord Grim’s possessive stare and fierce loving make her crave his mastery of her body. But then, the wolf injures the sheriff, Gisele and Lord Grim pull together to save him from becoming a monster.

Note: This 15,000-word novelette was previously published as “Witch’s Choice”, but has been revised and expanded.

Excerpt

Note for Readers: You must be of legal age in your country of origin to read this excerpt.

Chapter One

“What was that?”

The sheriff lifted his head from her breast, his eyes and lips blurred and glistening with passion. “If you have to ask, then you must find me sadly lacking.”

Gisele swatted his shoulder. “Idiot! Outside. I thought I heard something.”

His lips twisted in an impatient frown. “A horse’s whinny. Likely Tiberion. He’s a greedy bastard and simply wants more oats.”

She pressed her fingers to his lips and listened.

Nothing.

Perhaps her stretched nerves had made her overly aware. “Shouldn’t we keep watch?” she suggested, although her heart wasn’t really in it. Her body screamed for the release his cajoling and ready cock had promised.

“The traps are set. There’s nothing more to do-but this!” he said, lowering his face once more and trapping her nipple between his lips.

“Who’s greedy now?” she moaned as he suckled, tugging the tip of her breast until it grew engorged and painfully sensitive.

His dark laughter made her shiver as he scooted down her narrow bed, pressing kisses to her naked belly, his fingers sliding between her legs to trace her slit. Wicked laughter, wicked fingers- wicked, wicked man!

How had he managed to be here? In her bed? She’d lived alone, taken no lovers, preferring her solitude and independence. Lust had been tamped down inside her, submerged beneath her need to live as she chose. Letting a man this close always added complication. Desire clouded clear thinking. Hadn’t she learned that lesson long ago?

His breath gusted against her sex, and she realized he could see everything. Pale moonlight, gleaming through her open window, shone directly at the end of her bed. She shoved her pillow under her head to watch as he parted her folds with his thick fingers and stared.

What could possibly hold his interest? He’d whored his way through most of the castle staff-at least all the unattached women-or so she’d been told. Did he spend his time abed simply gazing at their sexes? “Am I so ill-formed that all you can do is stare?” she asked, feeling testy with his delay.

His gaze lifted to hers, and though his eyes were shadowed, his teeth gleamed white in the darkness. “You’re lovely. And clean. I find I like that in a woman.”

“Is there anything you don’t like in your many women?” she replied tartly.

“I think I’m quickly becoming more discerning. Your sweet flower’s scent is the rarest perfume.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’ve already got me on my back. You don’t have to woo me with pretty words.”

“Are you impatient?” he drawled.

Surprised, she realized that indeed she was. She thought she’d relented after being driven nearly mad with his endless flirting-certain he’d slake his lust and curiosity and move onto the next “flower” of womanhood that caught his roving eye. “Will you just get on with it before I change my mind?”

“Think I’ll allow that?”

The hint of steel in his question flooded her sex with moisture. Lord, had he noticed how her interest spiked with his mastery?

His fingers thrust into her channel. “Witch! Have I been wooing you when I should have been more forceful?”

Yes! But she bit her lip to halt the admission, shocked to discover this truth about herself-and in such an embarrassing way. There would be no end to his teasing now.

She ground her teeth and lifted her hips, trying to encourage him to take advantage of the lust he’d stirred inside her body. Her hands crept to her neglected breasts and she covered them, squeezing as he stroked inside her cunt again and again.

“You’re very small,” he said, his voice tight. “Should I be flattered you’ve admitted me?”

Her eyes narrowed. “You will be disappointed if I kick you to the floor before you’ve even untied your braies.”

He must have taken her threat seriously. His fingers withdrew and his hands made quick work of his clothing, pulling it away and tossing it near the hearth. When at last he covered her, his lean thickly muscled frame pressing her deep into her bedding, she opened her legs wide and sighed, thankful for the touch of his skin to hers.

It had been so long she’d forgotten how much comfort and the poignant emotions the contact of musky warm skin and a heavy body could bring. Perhaps she should rethink and make a place in her life for the occasional lover. Not this one, of course, however attractive he was. She’d want someone less sure of himself and who’d respect the boundaries she set upon their relationship.

But she’d think about that later. For now, his cock rooted between her legs until it found her moist entrance and thrust hard inside her.

Gisele’s back arched. The thickness pressing against her inner walls wasn’t exactly painful, but it burned and stretched. His guess hadn’t been far off. It had been years since she’d allowed a man this intimacy.

As his hips withdrew, dragging his cock against her inner walls then stroking back inside, she planted her feet in the mattress, determined to match his strokes-give him as good as he gave. She might be a woman and her sex intended to accept a man’s invasive ravaging, but she didn’t want him thinking she didn’t wield her own power or possess her own strengths.

To press her point, she smoothed her hands down his back, over his hips and cupped his flexing buttocks, pausing there to knead the muscle and revel in the manly power of his body.

When she slipped her fingers between the twin halves, tracing the crease to the tiny puckered hole, he growled and his strokes grew harder, sharper, lifting her bottom from the mattress with each deep thrust.

Her lips curved, and she knew he must have seen it, because his growl deepened in unspoken warning, but it was too late. She pushed a finger into his ass, all the way, then swirled her wrist to increase the sensations and the pressure.

“Witch!” he shouted and his thrusts grew harsher, driving the breath from her body, creating a burning friction in her channel that melted all around him, easing his movements, filling the air with moist, slurping sounds that only increased Gisele’s excitement. The lewd, raw nature of their joining and the strength of the muscles clamping hard around her finger only stoked the flame higher.

She wanted him deeper, harder, so she brought up her legs and tucked her knees beneath his armpits, allowing him the greatest penetration.

Then it happened. The tension and heat he’d built with his thrusting cock burst in a fiery wave of heat that licked at her sex, tightened the nipples scraping his furry chest and forced a whimper from her clenched lips-a small kittenish sound that surprised her almost as much as the excitement rippling up and down her channel.

“Yes, witch!” he shouted, bracing his hands on the mattress and powering his hips harder.

When the next wave roared over her, her back arched, pulling her finger from his ass and casting her over the edge into darkness.

His hips slowed and low groan broke from his throat as his seed spurted inside her, drenching her sex to overspill and slip between her buttocks to the bed. Her arms and legs clung to him as she quivered and her cunt pulsed around him.

At last, he collapsed onto her and his mouth met hers. His kiss was sweet-and his first to her lips. He dragged them slowly over hers as they breathed noisily through their noses.

She was loath to let him go. Covered, subdued by the strength of his body and his strong cock, she felt a contentment she hadn’t known in a long time. And if it lacked anything, she wasn’t willing to look any deeper.

Another sound ripped through the night air. This time no soft nicker, but a shrill, frightened whinny.

“There’s something outside,” she whispered.

“Aye, I think you’re right. Stay here,” he commanded.

She unwound her arms and legs, letting him withdraw from her bed. Quickly, he donned his braies and boots and grabbed his sword.

As he let himself out the door of her hut, she scrambled from the bed to peer out the window. The crisp clang of metal came from beyond her sheep pen. A trap snapping shut?

Then a dark shape arose from behind the fence, at first appearing to stand, then crouching to the ground and circling to confront the sheriff who held his sword at the ready.

The sheriff charged, shouting loudly and waving his arms to scare away the beast toward the other traps he’d laid. The noisy attack should have forced the creature to turn tail and run because wolves rarely confronted men, but this one didn’t give ground. A deep shiver racked her body as she watched, transfixed by the apparition revealed in the moonlight.

Pale slivers of light pierced the darkness, glistening on the wolf’s yellow eyes and brightening his long, bared fangs.

Still the sheriff approached, his body taut, muscle rippling in his arms and shoulders as he bent low, readying for the wolf to spring. Moonlight glinted on his raised sword and the wolf’s gaze followed it. Seeming almost sentient, it looked at the sword and the large, angry man then backed away, not letting its gaze leave the man, until it reached the edge of the darkness beyond her clearing and was gone.

She sat back down on the edge of the bed and drew a deep breath, shaken by the temerity of the beast. Then she glanced down her naked body and stiffened. No doubt the sheriff would expect a reward for his courage. But he hadn’t trapped the beast, had he?