happens.
I press my lips together and swallow back my laughter as I imagine him bolting upright in surprise if I gave it a good squeeze and yank. He makes some catlike sounds. Would he yowl like a kitty with its tail caught under a rocking chair? I wouldn’t pull that hard, but it does give me a mental giggle imagining him leaping up and preparing to bolt at the contact.
From the left bank, Grimsal shouts happily and tugs on the line wrapped tightly around a small flat piece of wood. When I first saw him pull it out of a small pouch hanging from his belt, I hadn’t given it much thought since it didn’t look any more impressive than a spool of thread. Maybe I should have joined Campfire Scouts, or Girl Scouts maybe—something—because then I might not have been so shocked to see the goblin yanking on that same string with a fat fish fighting against it on the other end.
“Looks like I’ve got dinner! I hope you like fish!” he shouts out to me.
He’s half-soaked with water from the river from all his splashing along the bank, but he looks pretty damned pleased with himself, so I find that I’m grinning back at his antics.
“After several nights of eating nothing but roast rabbits, a sorry-looking pheasant, and a couple of questionable eggs that definitely didn’t come from a chicken, I will love fish!” I shout back at him, earning a wild laugh of delight from the goblin.
A bit of flour, some grease, and proper seasonings and we could have a fish fry, but I don’t mention that. As much as I would love to sit down to a home-cooked meal, I know I can’t be too choosy when we have almost nothing in supplies outside of what the males have on them—and in the goblin’s case, the few things he was able to lift from the inn without the proprietress knowing.
I shake my head at him and start grabbing what dry sticks I can find closest to the brush. What I find is mostly thicker twigs and pitifully thin branches that likely fell due to a storm, but I find a lot of them. So I bring back armful after armful, piling the wood near where Eliph is crouched. He looks up to give me a grateful smile, his tail skimming my thigh in a way that gives me more than one erotic thought that makes my pussy pulse with desire before turning his attention to feeding the small fire he started.
Terrible flirt.
By the time I’ve got enough wood beside him to last at least a few hours until we’re ready to sleep, I can feel my muscles protesting despite the way my body is humming eagerly from the small touches of his tail against my hip or leg, or his hand upon mine. Sadly, it is not enough to fully distract me from the pain that’s ruthlessly tightening my muscles into spasms of agony by the time I drop down beside Eliph. Although my ass and thighs ache the most, I’m surprised to discover that my stomach and abs are not screaming at me. Of course, that means little right now because in the morning I’ll be tight and miserable from sore, overexerted muscles.
For right now, however, the pain that I do have is manageable, and so I don’t do more than wince when I sit. His ear turns toward me, letting me know that he’s aware of my presence, something which is thrilling alone, but I’m surprised when his arm loops around me and tuck me gently against his side.
There is something so possessive in his touch that it makes us both tense with uncertainty. Even so, I don’t hesitate to lean into his embrace and tuck my nose into his neck. It’s strange that I feel so safe and loved as he holds me. And I do love his smell. It’s like some sort of exotic tea that Mama favors whenever they pop up in her tea of the month club. As much as that woman loves a strong cup of coffee—a trait she passed down to both of her daughters—she has a weakness for tea. The smell is associated with so many good feelings for me that I can’t seem to get enough of it coming from his warm body. As I melt against him, it occurs to me that it’s possible that this is part of his magic that works to tie