whimpered at the loss of contact. “If we keep on like this we’ll never get anything done.”
She pouted. “And what’s wrong with that?”
“With Gullu demons on the loose, I need to do my job, or there won’t be a human world left to enjoy.”
“Ah, good point.” She held out her hand. “Pass me the soap, Mr. Viking King.”
Simon chuckled, handing her a Scandinavian pine scented bar. Figured, you can take the man out of the forest, but you can’t take the forest out of the man.
“I’m going to smell like you now.” She started lathering the soap to wash herself.
“And what’s wrong with that?” He mimicked her earlier question.
For once, Opie couldn’t think of one thing that was wrong. She shrugged, turning. “Can you wash my back, Mr. Viking King who won’t wear a helmet with horns?”
He chuckled. “As my little dragon wishes.” And wash her he did, running his hands over her skin and between her legs until she screamed her release for him, twice.
Chapter 7
As much as he wanted to keep Opie naked, there was no damn way he was letting her outside in just one of his t-shirts, which she’d borrowed as they’d eaten breakfast. She’d eaten a man-sized meal of eggs, bacon, and toast. She’d do the great banquet hall of his old castle proud with her ravenous appetite.
It was dangerous, but he was becoming far more attached to the sexy ex-princess, other than the magical tether she’d created. He even enjoyed her teasing chatter, and her curiosity knew no bounds as she tried to drag him all over his compound, wanting to know every story about the objects he’d collected and had on display throughout his home. Items he’d collected over the many years of his immortal life.
Instead of answering her, he dragged her back into the bedroom and into the closet to find her something she could wear.
“What are you doing?” She peered around him as he sorted out his clothing.
“Trying to find you something to wear.”
She pulled back. “Have you forgotten how I dressed before?”
How had she dressed before?
An energy filled the air. Last time he’d felt that she’d cast that damn spell. Simon turned and his mouth dropped open. Running his gaze down her body, she was dressed in a tight leather mini skirt, and a white tank with an emerald green see through top. Shiny, black, knee-high high heeled boots completed the ensemble. She was fiddling with her hair, braiding it back.
“How by Odin’s name did you do that?”
“Dragon magic, remember? I have that ability.” She finished tying off her hair, flicking it over her shoulder, looking at him quizzically.
Simon pinched the bridge of his nose as it sank in, his anger simmering once again. “Let me guess, you aced the class where you can conjure clothes, but not break tethering spells?”
At least she had the sense to look contrite and blush. “Sorry. I’ll wear your clothes if you want.” She picked up his shirt from the floor.
Folding his arms, he glowered. Like hell he’d let her out wearing this, she’d attract even more male attention than if she’d stayed naked.
“Do you always dress like this? Can you change into something a little less revealing?”
Her brow dipped and she mimicked his folded arms, pushing up her breasts in the lacy white number she had on under the tank. “Who are you, my father or a priest?”
Simon bit back the sudden urge to growl. “With the urge to throw you down and fuck you six ways to Sunday, I couldn’t feel less fatherly or saintly. You’ll attract too much attention.”
She arched a ginger eyebrow. “Surely you won’t be jealous if some hot guy likes what he sees?”
Rather than take her bait and threaten to disembowel any guy who dares to look at her the wrong way, he turned and stomped away, his mood sour as he finished dressing, making sure he had all his little gadgets hidden away.
Opie sat on the bed and, much to his relief, she’d changed. Her skirt was longer, even if
She pouted. “And what’s wrong with that?”
“With Gullu demons on the loose, I need to do my job, or there won’t be a human world left to enjoy.”
“Ah, good point.” She held out her hand. “Pass me the soap, Mr. Viking King.”
Simon chuckled, handing her a Scandinavian pine scented bar. Figured, you can take the man out of the forest, but you can’t take the forest out of the man.
“I’m going to smell like you now.” She started lathering the soap to wash herself.
“And what’s wrong with that?” He mimicked her earlier question.
For once, Opie couldn’t think of one thing that was wrong. She shrugged, turning. “Can you wash my back, Mr. Viking King who won’t wear a helmet with horns?”
He chuckled. “As my little dragon wishes.” And wash her he did, running his hands over her skin and between her legs until she screamed her release for him, twice.
Chapter 7
As much as he wanted to keep Opie naked, there was no damn way he was letting her outside in just one of his t-shirts, which she’d borrowed as they’d eaten breakfast. She’d eaten a man-sized meal of eggs, bacon, and toast. She’d do the great banquet hall of his old castle proud with her ravenous appetite.
It was dangerous, but he was becoming far more attached to the sexy ex-princess, other than the magical tether she’d created. He even enjoyed her teasing chatter, and her curiosity knew no bounds as she tried to drag him all over his compound, wanting to know every story about the objects he’d collected and had on display throughout his home. Items he’d collected over the many years of his immortal life.
Instead of answering her, he dragged her back into the bedroom and into the closet to find her something she could wear.
“What are you doing?” She peered around him as he sorted out his clothing.
“Trying to find you something to wear.”
She pulled back. “Have you forgotten how I dressed before?”
How had she dressed before?
An energy filled the air. Last time he’d felt that she’d cast that damn spell. Simon turned and his mouth dropped open. Running his gaze down her body, she was dressed in a tight leather mini skirt, and a white tank with an emerald green see through top. Shiny, black, knee-high high heeled boots completed the ensemble. She was fiddling with her hair, braiding it back.
“How by Odin’s name did you do that?”
“Dragon magic, remember? I have that ability.” She finished tying off her hair, flicking it over her shoulder, looking at him quizzically.
Simon pinched the bridge of his nose as it sank in, his anger simmering once again. “Let me guess, you aced the class where you can conjure clothes, but not break tethering spells?”
At least she had the sense to look contrite and blush. “Sorry. I’ll wear your clothes if you want.” She picked up his shirt from the floor.
Folding his arms, he glowered. Like hell he’d let her out wearing this, she’d attract even more male attention than if she’d stayed naked.
“Do you always dress like this? Can you change into something a little less revealing?”
Her brow dipped and she mimicked his folded arms, pushing up her breasts in the lacy white number she had on under the tank. “Who are you, my father or a priest?”
Simon bit back the sudden urge to growl. “With the urge to throw you down and fuck you six ways to Sunday, I couldn’t feel less fatherly or saintly. You’ll attract too much attention.”
She arched a ginger eyebrow. “Surely you won’t be jealous if some hot guy likes what he sees?”
Rather than take her bait and threaten to disembowel any guy who dares to look at her the wrong way, he turned and stomped away, his mood sour as he finished dressing, making sure he had all his little gadgets hidden away.
Opie sat on the bed and, much to his relief, she’d changed. Her skirt was longer, even if
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