Free Worlds of BBW Erotic Romance - Box Set by Celia Demure, Jennie Primrose Page A

“I’m sick of this mad bunch of shite. Your father is a rutting bastard, you know that?”
    Julia whimpered softly, and he immediately regretted his words.
    “I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s not your fault. But I’m sick of being trapped here. And I can’t stand him watching us!”
    Ed heard a splintery sound of movement, then a sickening crackle. There was a presence over him, like a foul weight in the air. When the thing breathed, it sounded like a dry wind through a burnt forest.
    He rolled onto his back and looked up.
    Mott stared back down at him, the wrinkled prunes of his eyes peering down from his scorched face. The flesh that still clung to his skull was crisped, hanging off in strips, and his skeletal grin was now blackened into a demonic leer.
    He raised his arm, the roasted flesh rustling, tendons creaking as the pulled taut over charred bone.
    “Thhhosssse whooo conssspire againssst God,” he hissed, “sssshall feel his wrrrrath in t-t-time!”
    “I wish he had burned up!” he heard Julia sob.
    “Get away from us, charcoal face!” Ed yelled, thrashing, trying to smack Mott with his legs.
    Mott just stood there, grinning, the fading orange light of the sunset like a memory of the fire on his flesh. Watching them, always watching.
    Rutting bastard.
    In addition to the bundling bags and Mott’s presence, the Rector had taken other precautions to insure that the young couple did not “get into trouble,” as he put it. They were locked into Julia’s bedroom now, and anything that might have served as a weapon had been taken away. They didn’t even have a lamp, the dying sun providing their only light.
    Earlier, they’d been let out of the bags in order to eat dinner in the room—but Mrs. Starks and two male servants had watched over them the entire time. The old woman had stared at Ed’s hands while he cut his meat with his fork, as if afraid he might stab her; they hadn’t been given any knives.
    When the meal was finished, all had been taken away and they’d been bundled back in.
    Now, Ed’s leg itched fiercely. Mrs. Starks had said he was lucky, and the burns weren’t bad. But the tingling ointment she’d applied made him want to scratch, and that was impossible to do while inside the bag.
    Their last visitors had been many hours ago. Before then, servants had peeked in every half-hour or so; but all had been quiet for some time. Since then, they’d had only Mott’s ghastly company. 
    “Let’s pretend he’s not here, please?” Julia whispered. “We’ll just talk softly and pretend we’re alone. I want to be with you and talk with you.”
    Behind him, near the door, Ed heard a crackling like dry leaves, a bony crunch as Mott moved around.
    There was the creak of the door opening… More crunching sounds… It sounded like Mott was walking out. Then came the sound of the door locking behind him.
    “He’s gone outside now,” Julia said. “Please talk to me, Edwin.”
    “I can’t believe we’re getting married, ” Ed said.
    She closed her eyes, looking embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I know I put words in your mouth …”
    “Hey, you were trying to save my life. That’s … I’m not upset. Just surprised, I guess.”
    Ed didn’t really understand why people got married. His own parents had met in church when they were young, and their parents had thought it a good idea for them to wed. But then his parents had always been utterly miserable together, as far as he knew.
    He tried to think back to his own romantic ideals as a youth. Well, there had really only been Constance Clement. Sure, he’d wanted to be with her, hold her curvy body close to him, smell her soft skin …
    But did he ever think about getting married?
    “When my mother was ill a few years ago, just before she died, she made my father promise some things—about me,” Julia said.
    “Things?” Ed asked.
    “She said he should give me a lovely life and keep me away from ugliness if he could. And also,