Free Lord Grim's Witch (a medieval romance novelette) by Delilah Devlin

Chapter One
    ‡
    “W hat 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 asked, although the last thing she wanted was to halt their love play. 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.
    Perhaps desire clouded clear thinking. Hadn’t she learned her 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. After being driven nearly mad with his endless flirting, she had relented, certain he’d slake his lust and curiosity and move on to the next “flower” of womanhood that caught his roving eye. Never had she thought she’d enjoy herself so much. “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 quim 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