Page 95 of The Knucker King

The lines on Trewoofe’s faced deepened. “And you need to go outside for this?”

“Yes.”

Bramble rose, ready to amble after her.

“The moment needs to be alone.”

He tucked his tail between his legs.

Avice swallowed back her guilt, threw open the door, and bolted into the garden, ignoring the steady stream of snow that fell from the fractures above. She looked frantically for somewhere to hide. Trewoofe had already felled the largest tree – which would have been ideal – so she settled for the second biggest, hiding herself behind it so her cottage was out of sight.

She leant back against the trunk. Her skin still singing at the points where he had held her. She traced her fingertips over her wrists. She squeezed her hand up her sleeve, stroking her sensitive scar, even digging in her stubby nails to mimic the dimpling sensation of his claws.

Avice let out a ragged breath, shifting her featherlight caress to her breasts. Her nipples had pebbled, and she knew it was not just from the cold. She experimented, massaging a breast with one hand and rolling a nipple with the fingertips of the other. It felt… nice, but not like the shooting sparks she felt from Trewoofe’s claws. She needed more, she needed friction, she needed touch, and it needed to be down there.

The cold prickled her as she hitched up her many layers of skirts. Tracing up her inner thigh – grateful that her courses had finished – a tingle shot straight to her centre and added to her sticky pleasure there. She bit her lip to stifle a whimper, silencing her self-exploration. However unlikely it was that Trewoofe would catch her voice over the tempest outside, she coiled with delight at the thought of him overhearing her.

Avice drifted up, stroking the black triangle of curls between her legs before dipping down. She was wet. So wet. She had never felt so lustful. That steady voice, those soft touches, the way he calmed her storm, it was enough to send her into a near-frenzy. She found that special spot – the one she called a pearl – and tickled herself once.

She let out a shuddering breath as stars appeared in her vision. She looked down at her quivering hands; one holding the skirts up, the other teasing between her legs. She wished it were Trewoofe there, so she closed her eyes and pretended they were his massive hands instead.

Avice rubbed again, knowing he would be oh-so-careful with his claws. She fumbled, but eventually found a rhythm of steady circles, his silhouette on the back of her eyelids. He would kneel in front of her, red eyes watching, one hand spreading her and the other working her pearl in a pattern she would command.

“Trewoofe…” she mumbled, increasing her tempo.

Pressure built and she threw her head back, the image blurring in her mind.

“Yes, Trewoofe.”

His name sounded like a prayer on her lips.

“My King.”

She pictured his tongue dipping down beyond her curls, one fork lapping her pearl, and the other teasing her entrance.

At that image, she fell.

Avice plummeted into the first orgasm she had ever experienced, with her Knucker’s name on her lips. She ground down on her hand, riding waves of pleasure, stars shooting on the backs of her eyelids. Her spine tingled as she soaked herself, stickiness dribbling down her thighs and dampening the tops of her stockings.

Avice panted as the tingling pleasure slowly ebbed. She opened her eyes just as a single, large snowflake landed on her nose, immediately melting from the heat of her skin. She was a mess, and she knew it. More than anything, she longed to be a mess for and with him.

With a shuddering breath, she dropped her skirts, acutely aware of how soaked she was. She cast her gaze around, looking for how she could clean herself up.

37

Chapter 37

Trewoofe

Trewoofe sulked on the pallet, fidgeting with his claws, while he waited for Avice to return. He did not know what he had done to make her so irritable, nor why she had fled from his touch. Normally, she leant into his gentle hugs and caresses.

Bramble padded over and offered his head for pat. She will come back.

Trewoofe scratched behind his ears. “Why was she so angry with me?”

She will apologise, he assured. She bears a great weight in her position, and it sometimes overwhelms her. The Gardener women have looked after the humans of Lamorna for more generations than I can count. Yet, it has never been more difficult for one of them to administer their care.

Trewoofe frowned. “Why?”