Page 78 of The Troll’s Summer Flame

I hesitate, and then vow. “I haven’t had a family since I ran. Not until just last month when I met Andrea. We are making our own family now, but I would like you to be part of it if you truly want a life like mine. We protect. We do not harm.”

“And we don’t have to hunt unless we want to?” Hugo adds.

I can’t help but chuckle. “And we have pets and movies. We even bowl.”

“Bowl... Bowl? What about bowls?”

The chuckle keeps growing. “I’ll show you on our drive.”

“Oh my goodness. I love your brother,” I hiss when Hugo finally leaves the table after his seventeenth pancake. “We need to go to the store. We’re out of flour. And milk. And pretty much everything at this point. Should we take him with us? Has he ever been to the store?”

“I don’t know. I believe he’s made a few attempts, but he’s definitely not shopping savvy. It’s hard to blend in when you look like Hugo does, even to oblivious humans.” Gordon takes syrupy dishes to the sink and starts to scrub. “You love my brother?”

“Like I love my brother,” I am quick to clarify. Gordon’s back muscles instantly relax. “I’m a one-troll woman,” I promise, hugging him while he washes the dishes. “Can we get a dishwasher if I move in?”

“If?”

“I’m not sure that I should live with you and your brother while he’s trying to work out how to be a functioning member of society. Maybe he just needs time for you to mentor him without me around so he can ask any awkward questions or learn things without an audience that might embarrass him. I love him, don’t get me wrong. He’s funny, sweet, and so genuine. And talkative. But...”

“I noticed that, too. It’s like instead of learning that you never talk, Hugo talks more to spite the rules we were taught. No wonder he was Mother’s favorite target,” Gordon mutters.

“That’s so wrong. He’s the nicest, kindest—not nicer and kinder than you! You have a jealous streak.” I poke Gordon’s ribs, and find myself suddenly half-tackled against the kitchen counter, bent back in a kiss that steals my air and turns my insides to hot, molten want. “Whoa,” I gasp.

“You are mine. Hugo is younger, and gentler, and sweeter. He has a boyish, charming face. And curly hair.” Gordon looks genuinely worried for a second.

“Yes—he’s like a cute, injured puppy that you brought home. I want my big, strong hero. I want you. Just how you are, because you are mine, too. I want you, Gordon. I want to be your wife, your girlfriend, the one who lives in this little cabin with you with a bunch of cats and a slightly smaller bunch of kids. What do I have to do to show you?” I push my hips forward. “Climb you like a tree? I might have been taking lessons from Chopin, you know.” I scoot up on the counter, hips open, legs going around Gordon’s waist.

“We can’t,” he hisses—and unzips his jeans.

“Oh, fuck,” I hiss back, and in seconds, his fingers are deep inside of me, pounding my pussy in the perfect sweet spot, taking the puddle of want to a truly liquid form. “In case you don’t know—this counts as kinky,” I whisper into his neck as he lifts me up—and slides me down, impaling me on his cock. I muffle a half-pained, half-awed cry against his chest.

“Why?”

“Because your brother could walk out of the shower any second and catch you fucking me against the kitchen counter.”

“If he does, he’ll lose an eye. Or a tusk.”

“Then you’d better be fast.” I squeeze my pussy around him, milking him and easing the momentary pain of being so full, so fast. “This is what they call a quickie.”

“I thought women needed twenty minutes of clitoral stimulation to achieve orgasm,” Gordon says. “I read it online.”

“Bless your big mossy heart,” I moan (but quietly). “I love that you read, but you’re also an overachiever. That might be for most men and women. Not a troll with a cock like a gigantic cucumber fucking a size extra-small pussy.”

“I love that you’re so tight around me. So small. So delicate. I feel lucky that you love me. You chose me. But Hugo is—”

“Is my newest family member. You’re about to meet my family. One day you will have a brother-in-law to put up with, and Josiah is a lot less of a sweetheart than Hugo. This just evens us up.” I grab Gordon by the jaw and stare into his arms. “Now, put that mouth to better use and kiss me while I come all over your cock.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Make that wifey,” I tease, but I’m going to remember that using that particular word is like liquid gold.

Gordon grabs my neck, slams me back onto the counter, and absolutely drills me while his free hand rips my panties in half to find my clit and rub it while he’s buried inside of me, eyes boring into mine. Marking me. Inside and out.

It’s intense and perfect, raw, wild, and domestic all at once. Gordon is so collected and calm outside because he’s had to be his own rock, his own anchor with the messy, stormy seas inside of him. He’s my calm, steady place, too—and I’m his open ocean, his rough water, a place where all he’s carrying inside can come out and he’ll still be safe.

“My everything,” I whisper as he’s finishing inside of me. “You’re my everything, Gordon.”

Andrea and I mop up the floor, scrub down the counter and cabinets, and Hugo still hasn’t appeared.