11-07-2017, 08:36 AM
 i'll use you as a makeshift gauge of how much to give and how much to take
The thrill of having overcome her hesitation is almost as heady as her presence itself. Isobell has been taunting him since they met as adult at the beginning of the summer. She would come closer and then pull away, teasing both the man and the monster with her sultry glances and playful touches. Now, at last, he has won. He had known he would – Ivar always does – but the pleasure of it is more than he would have expected. Ther is anger in the tense line of her neck, and a cold glare in her silver eyes when she meets his own. He ignores this, because they do not matter. She belongs to him. She can hate him, want him bashed against the cliffs of Nerine, and still she will be his. The permanence of this revelation has him beside her again, pressing his shoulder to hers as she wades into the water. The moan she voices winds him all the tighter, and despite his recent exertion he feels the desire for her rise again. He sighs happily, his chin resting across her crest for a moment. “Go,” he croons into her ear, “Farther out to sea.” She will be lost there, he knows. She will have only Ivar to guide her, and the bond between them will only deepen. She will look to him for protection, safety, pleasure – as it should be. They will find a distant island, where she will lure in the unsuspecting native males. Stallions are larger prey than Ivar could hunt alone, but together they will be unbeatable. The image of Isobell drawing them down to their deaths elicits another primal growl from the piebald stallion, and he leaps into deeper water, knowing that she will follow. minimal grullo tobiano king of loess |