Owner (Blood Brotherhood #2) Read Online Loki Renard

Categories Genre: Dark, Fantasy/Sci-fi, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Blood Brotherhood Series by Loki Renard
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Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 55756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
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“Come and get it!”

I hold the hammer aloft, and suddenly like Mary Poppins, I am airborne. Flying. Holy fuck! The power of this thing is truly awesome.

“Get down!”

Thor seems very small now, disappearing like a little ant. I am going up, up, a little too high for comfort. I lower the hammer and I start to go down again. Fast. Too fast.

“I’m fucking flying!” I’m now screaming toward Earth without any kind of ability to stop. The hammer has too much weight to orient it back up. I hold onto it with two hands, wondering if I am going to punch right through the Earth, or if I am about to be squished flat.

Thor takes a mighty leap up from the ground, reaches his massive fist for the hammer, and surges back up into the sky, drawing me back aloft like a plane pulling up at the last moment from a failed landing. He wraps his other arm around my waist to stop me from falling and looks into my eyes with pure fury.

He’s saved my life. This does not seem to please him as much as it pleases me.

“Leave my hammer alone,” he growls as he takes us safely back to Earth.

“It wasn't my fault. I don’t even know where it came from!”

“You have to take responsibility for your actions, even if they’re not your fault,” he lectures, setting me back down.

"That makes no sense. I really didn’t mean to almost kill myself just now. You have to believe that.”

“You’re trouble,” he growls. “You’ll always be trouble. I am not going to watch you die because you are reckless and irresponsible. And yet I can’t seem to tame you.”

As he speaks, he starts tearing my clothes from my body. I feel like a present being unwrapped, but by someone very angry and not at all thrilled to be receiving it. With a wild Norse god tearing at my clothing, I am very much entranced and enthralled. The adrenaline from my recent flight is still pounding through my veins, and now my heart beats for a whole new reason.

“What. Do I have to do. To make you behave?” He snarls the question in three parts, the last of which is punctuated by the tearing sound of my underwear being ripped off my body.

I’ve heard of hate fucks. This isn’t hatred. This is something even harder to resolve. Thor grasps my chin in his big hand and turns my head up for a passionate kiss. He is still clothed, but he frees his cock, revealing a second hammer to try to pound some sense into me.

I am tossed down onto the mossy ground, mercifully avoiding the rocks. And then he is on top of me, his furred clothing making him look like the beast he seems to me to be. I see bright eyes peering viciously between narrowed lids as the wind whips his hair across his face and makes my nipples taut with excitement and yes, fear.

I know he won’t hurt me. Everything Thor has ever done has been in service of saving me. But he is tiring of the game. His patience is wearing thin the same way everybody’s patience inevitably wears thin where I am concerned. I know there has to be some part of him that wants to be rid of me. Instead he is going to go deep inside me. He lowers his head between my legs, holding onto my hips and setting about giving my poor pussy a tongue lashing the likes of which it has never seen before. I feel his hot, wet tongue licking at my sex, parting my lips, finding the dewy core of me. I think I must be cold, but I don't feel it. I feel hotter than ever, lit by some infernal flame that has always burned inside me. For long minutes he licks and he laps, and he makes my hips rise to his mouth with a grinding motion that speaks to how desperately I need him inside me.

And then, suddenly, his mouth is gone. It is replaced with the flat of his fingers, contacting my wet, swollen pussy with a hard slap that makes a yowl echo across the valleys and ridges of this rough and unforgiving landscape.

“Fucking ow!”

“Does it hurt?” He repeats the treatment again with an expression of satisfaction.

“Of course it fucking does!”

“Good.”

I try to close my legs but he has no intention of allowing me to escape this particularly painful and intimate punishment. He pushes them back open with one hand and he sets about spanking my pussy with swift, harsh slaps that make me squirm and beg him for mercy we both know I do not deserve.

“Again, I am forced to watch you recklessly nearly kill yourself,” he snarls. “Again, I am forced to wonder if these will be the last moments I have with you.”



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