Title: Fletcher
Author: AJ Adams
Genre: Fantasy Romance
Rebellious, mouthy Lind has had enough of being a slave. She’s certainly not going to act meek and mild to please a bossy, stuck-up Guildsman, even if he is a dangerous nutcase with a rep for burning down entire cities. Determined to run away, Lind quickly discovers that the fletcher is more than a match for her.
Having lost his family, master craftsman Ware Fletcher is driven by his need for revenge. To secure it, he buys Lind, a slave with unique skills. However, Ware quickly discovers that his new acquisition is extremely difficult. Insolent, fearless and immune to discipline, Lind causes chaos wherever she goes. If he’s to get his revenge, he’ll have to tame her first.
As Lind and Ware battle each other, their smouldering encounters bring them closer together. Can a slave and her owner find true love? And if they do, will Ware’s need for revenge lead them both into disaster?
Fletcher is a dark tale of love, revenge, and salvation.
This novel contains slavery, dubious consent, and graphic violence, however, it is a love story. It is a standalone novel; no cliff-hangers.
“I’ve had it with you.” Ware threw me back on the bed, on my back, and leaned over me. “You’re getting a whipping.”
“I’ll never give in. Never!”
Ware’s cool self-possession had vanished. He was spitting mad. His eyes were narrowed, his lips thinned, and there was a pulse beating in his jaw. He was also bleeding. There were teeth marks on his shoulder and a couple of long scratches on his neck.
The biggest thing, though, was his hard-on. Ware’s cock was rock-solid, quivering against my stomach.
My brain went on a trip, and I was opening my big mouth, taunting him. “What? Are you going to fuck me into submission?”
Ware blinked and then he was growling at me. “Good idea.”
Tyr help me and silence my unruly tongue! I can take a whipping anytime, but being brutalised terrified me. I was eight years old again, feeling my insides rip and tear.
He held me down with one hand on my collar as he stripped off breeches and tunic. His face was granite and his eyes steel.
I was petrified. “No, Ware! No! For pity’s sake!” It was me, wailing. “Don’t!”
I was panicked, realising I was pinned, helpless. Ware was holding me down effortlessly, settling between my thighs, the hand curled around my collar keeping me immobile.
“No, Ware! No!”
The grey eyes were like flint. He was enraged, intent on getting his own back. I knew this was going to hurt. I braced myself, terrified but unable to shut my eyes. I’d not scream, I promised myself. I grit my teeth, preparing for agony.
Then it happened. The miracle.
Ware looked into my eyes and stopped.
I was staring at him, tears running down my face, breath stuck in my throat. I couldn’t think. All I could see was those steely eyes, staring into mine. “Don’t,” I whispered. “Don’t, Ware.”
The iron grip on my collar loosened. Ware took a deep breath, visibly calming himself. He let go and then his hand brushed my hair. “Lind, you’d try the patience of a goddamn Freyjan nun.”
“Nuns can’t own property.” I cheeked him without thinking, but my heart stopped trying to bang its way out of my chest. I took a shuddering breath. My stomach stopped clenching, too. I blessed Ware for his ice-cold control, but I couldn’t think of what to say. Babbling gratitude stuck in my throat.
The steel eyes were gazing right into mine. “You’re impossible.”
He was pressed so close to me that I could feel his heart beat.
“You’re infuriating, difficult and I want you.” Ware dipped his head, his lips brushing mine. They were soft, sweetly dancing against mine. The heat of his body was flowing against mine, the signature woody scent surrounding me. “You’re mine.” The lips were in my neck, his breath brushing my ear. “Say it.”
“Won’t.” But I was kissing his neck, rubbing my face against his hair. It was pure relief, I think. “Never.”
The hard cock was brushing over my clit, his broad chest leaning on me lightly as Ware settled carefully on top of me. “Nasty little she-wolf.”
Maybe it was sheer relief, but I found myself arching against him. “I won’t be tamed. I’ll fight.”
His lips were nuzzling my breasts, his tongue lightly flicking a puckered nipple. “Not now, Lind.” His hands were moving behind my back, pulling my body close. “Be nice.”
It was he who was nice. Ware was gentle, slow and sweet as he caressed me.
Soon I floated as he kissed, licked and nuzzled. The hardness of him contrasted with the soft touches, melting me on the spot. As his hands moved over my back, the calluses rough, shivers of excitement were rippling through me.
I was enveloped in his scent: rich aromatic yew and oak. He was moving down, his lips brushing my navel, his tongue teasing. It was the strangest thing, being kissed. His lips were warm and firm, soft yet demanding. Each little touch added power to the ripples flooding through me.
“This time you do what I want. No rushing me.” He was kissing my thighs, his hands pushing up my hips. The lips tickled, teased and then he was sucking my clit. “Say you’re mine, Lind.”
“Oh Tyr’s silk ribbon, don’t stop!” I was awash in exquisite sensation, drowning in bliss. My hips were shuddering and my breath ragged. I was arching like a bow, leaning into those silken lips. I could feel my hands hard in my back, my fingers flexing as I gave myself over to pleasure.
“Say you’re mine.”
I didn’t even think. “You’re mine.”
I heard him chuckle. “Devil!” But those lips were back at work, licking and laving. The wash of delight became a sea, carrying me away. “Don’t stop. Never stop!”
He did. Again. “Say it, Lind.”
“Yours. I’m yours.” My clit was thumping, my thighs suddenly quivering with tension. I was spreading my legs, picturing that erection, wanting that hard, hot heat inside me. “Fuck me, Ware!”
AJ Adams enjoys writing twisted love stories set in the violent world of the Cartel, Camorra, Belial's MC and Prydain. She also has a sweet side, writing contemporary romance as Ellen Whyte.
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