Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 144676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 723(@200wpm)___ 579(@250wpm)___ 482(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 144676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 723(@200wpm)___ 579(@250wpm)___ 482(@300wpm)
With that in mind, I took a chance.
Since you are fulfilling all your duties, I find myself remiss (is that the right word? I’m second-guessing myself) in taking care of your mother’s garden. So, if you aren’t too busy, maybe wade through there and cut out all the plants that don’t belong. The vines, for a start. What the hell are they doing in there? The blackberry bushes are out of control. Those need to go. Weeds, obviously. You know, help out a little. Hadriel can assist you. He’ll hate it, but he needs something to do in my absence besides shame-fuck. He’ll thank me eventually.
Warmest regards,
Finley
The birch shook when I left, and I had a smile on my face all the way home.
The next day I went back in the afternoon, carrying more canisters. I knew it was probably too early to hope for a return note, but I figured I could add at least more canisters to the bag. A dragon could carry much more than I could. Besides, I wanted a few more crowded plant leaves so I could start experimenting. I’d also written out a bunch of questions about everlass for Nyfain.
At the birch, his smell caught me again, snapping my focus taut and sending a zip of fire through my body. It was recent and potent, deliciously curling through my senses and wetting my panties. My animal purred in delight, and I wondered just what had created the extra depth to his scent.
Dear Finley,
I enjoyed the sarcasm in your first sentence immensely. It really ruined made my night. I carried on reading with a scowl glow.
I spat out a laugh, settling back against the shaking birch to read.
First, and most importantly, your father’s convalescence is fantastic news! I am so proud of you. I wish we could go back in time, because you would’ve been crowned as the best plant worker in the kingdom, I have no doubt. You and my mother would have had so much to talk about.
Consequently, why do you call him “Father” and your mother “Mom”? I picked up on that at your cottage but drugged your family and skulked off into the night before I could ask (…is that joke too soon?).
I am sure you will heal your neighbor, but if you turn murderer, I have heard that blaming cats can be useful in getting out of it. Hadriel provided that anecdote. I’m not quite sure how it will help get you off the hook, and in truth, at the time he offered the information, he was hanging upside down by one ankle in a costume I am pretty sure was meant to mock me, whilst heavily intoxicated. Nevertheless, it bears looking into.
Since we are on the subject of spelling mistakes, when you hoped I would “bare with you,” it put a very different spin on the meaning. Soon thereafter, I read your favorite book on that list—the numbers I took to mean the number of times you had read them?
I giggled as I read, nodding. He’d figured it out.
Eighteen is quite a lot. After I read it, though, I think I understand. I’d love to see the physical book you have handled. I assume some pages have seen more wear than others, specifically the scene in which the couple is forced to escape the (rather tame) villain on horseback. I wondered why the author would have them outrun the villain so easily. And then we got the descriptions of his hands slowly gliding up her (milky) thighs and firmly palming her (luscious) breasts, and I began to understand.
I have never made love to a woman on horseback, but I am now desperate to try. The idea of a canter (probably a trot, actually—this author didn’t seem to be an equestrian) pounding my cock deeper and harder into her tight, wet pussy is one I haven’t been able to get out of my mind as I…bare with you. Wouldn’t it be fun to try out the sex scenes explored in detail in the pages of your favorite novels? I wonder if I could give you (<—oops) someone as many orgasms as these heroes give their ladies. Likely not, but I am ever ready to learn. Given our current hopeless situation, I’ll have to continue rigorously fucking myself instead. I seem to be getting worse at it, though, because I’ve been needing to do it more and more frequently. Maybe I should take a break from novels with passion and explore a book about bodies of water instead. Namely, cold baths.
Now who is babbling via parchment…
I twisted my legs together and fanned myself. Even when talking about deliciously crude sex scenes, he was well spoken. It was insane. The author of these letters did not sound like the gruff, rough-and-tumble, scarred beast I’d met and constantly fought with. It was like two different people.