Chapter 16 - An Offer for Deaf Ears

The weight of his gaze pinned her in place, but Sarah couldn’t muster the energy for even the slightest shift. Her limbs felt leaden, every muscle strung taut with exhaustion after his brutal consumption of her. She lay there, staring vacantly at the worn rug beneath her cheek, letting his words wash over her in fragmented waves.

He chuckled, a low rumble that vibrated through her chest. The sound held no malice, merely amusement – a predatory satisfaction at her utter helplessness. "Well then," he said, stepping closer. A faint scent of woodsmoke and something else - something distinctly masculine and feral - drifted from him as he leaned down beside her. "You still owe me for that porridge." He paused, his gaze lingering on the swell of her hip beneath the rough linen tunic before continuing with a devilish twist to his smile.

His words dripped into her half-empty consciousness like stones tossed into a silent well. "Besides," he went on, leaning down until his breath brushed across the side of her neck, sending gooseflesh rippling out from under his touch, "You've borrowed my bed for the night as well."

She couldn't answer. She barely had the energy to draw a single ragged breath.

He waited patiently, amusement still twinkling in his dark eyes. After a moment that stretched on longer than it should have, he finally spoke again. A slow, almost languid grin spread across his face. "But," he murmured, drawing out the word as if savoring its weight, "I'm a man of my word. You won't be losing your maidenhead tonight." He paused, letting the words settle between them before adding with an even more pointed smile, “Unless…"

He trailed off, his gaze dropping to the curve of her backside where the rough fabric of her tunic strained against her hips. The heat of him was a palpable thing now – radiating outwards in waves that seemed to engulf her entirely. Sarah tried to turn her head away, but it felt as if she was trying to move through thick honey.

His next words echoed around inside her skull, bouncing off the dull ache behind her eyes. "A little compromise," he purred, his voice a low rumble against her ear, "and your debt is cleared in full."

He paused again, and this time Sarah felt his breath warm on her skin as he leaned closer. She could smell the wood smoke clinging to him, tinged with that musky undercurrent she couldn’t quite place.

"Let me use your arse," he murmured, "and you can keep your cherry."

Sarah's mind spun uselessly, unable to grasp the significance of his proposition beyond the sheer exhaustion dragging her down like an anchor. She didn't even have the energy to argue with him. He simply continued on as if she’d readily agreed, sliding a hand under her tunic and pulling it away from her back.

She felt the air chill against her bare skin as he tugged the fabric away, revealing the smooth expanse of her buttocks stretched taut beneath the weight of his touch. Before she could even register the movement, he flipped her over with surprising ease – a swift maneuver that left her sprawled face down on the rough rug with a gasp caught somewhere in her chest. He wasted no time settling above her, his heat pressing down onto her back as he began to work at the fastenings of her breeches.

"You'll be alright," he muttered against her ear before she could even protest. "It's not so bad." His voice was a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through every bone in her body.