The Sheeman by Red Garnier

"Take off your clothes," he said in a gruff whisper.

Her stomach constricted. "Now?"

"Yes. Now." He crossed his big, brawny arms, eyebrows up in interest.

"If you think I'm doing this for my own pleasure, you are wrong, sheeman. I find this task as displeasing as you do if not more so. I'd take an island for my creatures a thousand times over fucking you."

Shayla told herself it was her pride hurt by his words. "I am known to be beautiful in Merdera," she said. Why she thought of saying that, she didn't know, for it shouldn't matter to her what he thought of her. She didn't think too highly of him either!

"Ah, well." He shrugged, giving it little importance. "You do understand this is purely a business decision of mine?"

"As is mine," she countered.

But the truth was, all this made Shayla feel lower than low. This man, a beast, a being nobody in their right mind had wanted to be with, didn't want her. Her father didn't want her. Her country didn't want her.

Shayla had never placed her worth on what others thought of her, but now she felt of little value. Maybe this was the right place for her after all, where all that was unloved and had outlived its purpose ended up.

But Shayla had a special somewhere, waiting for her, just north of here. A future that looked brighter than any day of her past. With that in mind, she unlaced the frilly cream-colored dress Shakespeare had loaned her, one made by Walker with such exquisite workmanship Shayla took extra care when she unfastened it.

In several slow, tense seconds, the fabric pooled around her feet, and all that stood between the king and her naked body was air. That same air skimmed across her skin, a cool whisper that stroked her flesh, enhancing her sensitivity.

He'd been watching her, his predatory gaze missing nothing, and when she turned to face him, his whole body stiffened, his jaw squaring as it went rigid.

If he'd gone motionless in shock, Shayla was equally unprepared for the sight of his nude, male body. He was all sinews and muscles.

Hard, lean, and magnificent.

His straight, blond hair looked as silky-soft and tempting as his smooth, hairless flesh.

His legs were long and powerful, his thighs as hard as rocks, his hips so narrow it was hard to imagine they could hold something so big between them.

Shayla swallowed at the sight of his shaft, rising along his abdomen, as threatening as any weapon could be, and utterly magnificent. As hard as the rest of him, and equally arresting. Dark veins corded down its length, the head so swollen it looked taut as a drum.

Protruding from the tip was a small, dark barb, moistened by a dewy drop of semen that had gathered at the tip.

"You're pleased, sheeman," he said in a whisper. "I can see it in your eyes."

"I'm not pleased. I'm anxious to get this over with…and a little concerned for my safety," she said, wide, wary eyes examining the hooked barb.

"Believe me. Nothing will hurt more than your pride." His smile was short and cruel. "Let's show your daddy what I think of his precious sheeman, so revered in Merdera, reduced to nothing but my whore, eh?"

She told herself she would be immune to him. She would not, should not, allow any of his words to affect her in any way. But they did. Oh, they did. Cruel or not, every word of his felt like a touch on her skin, her flesh pebbling to it in revulsion or excitement, she wasn't sure which.

"Lay back and open your legs, sheeman."

Eerily detached, Shayla settled down on the bed, resting her head on a pillow so soft it nearly swallowed her head. She placed her hands by her sides, palms face down, and slowly parted her thighs, which suddenly felt more cottony than the pillow under her head.

He'd lost interest in speaking. Now all he did was look at her, at the glossy curls nestled between her legs. His eyes had darkened, a pulse throbbing at the base of his throat.

Although Shayla's eyes were glued to him, aware of every move he made and breath he took, she carefully avoided his eyes. "I'm ready."

He didn't move, but stood there towering at the foot of the bed, big and menacing and so very male.

Her sex pooled with more warm liquids, even under the sweep of his glowing gaze, and her heart began to pound hard against her breast.

She exhaled a shaky breath when he finally spoke. "I beg you not to squirm; otherwise, you'll only make it more difficult." His voice had changed, now a low, dry rasp as he stepped around the bed.

"Quickly," she pleaded, growing nervous and more than a little frightened.

He took his time, still engrossed with that secret place between her legs, the hungry look in his eyes heating her moistened slit even more. "You're wet."

He sounded surprised, pleased almost, and she felt her cheeks flare up in embarrassment. He had a very appealing body. Just looking at its hard planes, and knowing he was going to be inside her, was enough. Enough to want to melt, to fly, to do something ridiculous.

Shayla wished she'd been able to prevent the warm flow of liquid between her legs, but it was embarrassingly clear that she hadn't.

It wasn't supposed to be this way.

She should be cold. Ice. Instead, a strange sensual awareness seemed to have heightened every sense. She tingled everywhere, hurt in the most secret parts of her being. Her palms were sweaty, and she felt so helpless and debilitated, she was sure if a comet came crashing down over this very building, she wouldn't have been able to jump out of the bed.

The mattress squeaked under his weight as he slowly crawled on top of her. Warmth from his body seeped into hers as she gazed upon yards and yards of sun-tanned flesh. His chest was amazing, broad and muscled, and even the sight of his tiny, puckered, brown nipples made her belly clench.

He braced his thick, corded arms next to her shoulders, aligning the length of his body perfectly over hers. His knee nudged her legs apart so he could sink his hips between her parted thighs.

Shayla sought out that haven of nothingness, the blissful detachment for her mind. But she was incapable, incapable of ignoring his presence, his overwhelming maleness.

The swollen tip of his cock pressed against her cleft, his eyes colliding with hers the second he shoved deep into her sheath. She gasped when he filled her, a sudden rush of pleasure washing through her as he groaned deep in his throat and went completely still inside her.

He was unlike anything she'd felt before. So wide she thought she'd burst from his impalement, his flesh hot enough to burn. The tip of his barb pressed against her wet tissue with such gentle pressure she quaked with desire at the contact.

Tension eased out of his shoulders, and as it did, she felt his weight, heavier upon her, her body rendered motionless under his bigger one.

With dark blue eyes glimmering with a fierce, scorching heat that could have melted stone, he lowered his face to hers, the tips of their noses briefly touching as he whispered, "Sheeman." There was wonder in his voice, and something else, something husky and hoarse that loosened every one of her muscles.

He remained inside her, cock pulsing with life as he slowly shifted his weight onto one muscled arm and cupped her face with the other.

His hand was big and warm against her cheek.

His caress was so gentle she wanted to sigh as the rough pad of his thumb slowly scraped across her lower lip. "Maybe I do want to kiss you after all," he murmured.