He thoughts.
Karen Marie Moning
Clamored a hundred perky eggs. She rebuked.
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What was she going to do with two Drustans?A kinky part of her proposed something unmentionable and rather fascinating. Really, if they were both, it wouldn't be like she was cheating on anyone.
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Drustan raked a hand through his hair and fumbled in the dark for the door. When it didn't budge, a part of him was unsurprised. Yet another part of him met the fact with a kind of glad resignation. She wanted battle? Battle she would get. It would be a pleasure to have it out with her finally. Once he'd ripped the door from the framing, he would exact vengeance upon her wee body with gleeful abandon. No more honorable I-won't-touch-you-because-I'm-betrothed. Nay he'd touch her. Any damn place and any damn way he wanted to. As many times as he wanted to. Until she begged and whimpered beneath him. She'd been trying to drive him mad? Well, he was giving in to it. He would act like the animal she made him feel like being. The hell with Anya, the hell with duty and honor, the hell with discipline. He needed to tup. Her. Now.
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Daily her tactics grew more sly and underhanded. Last night the audacious wench had picked the lock to hischamber! Because he'd had the foresight to barricade the door with a heavy armoire, she'd then gone to his door inthe corridor and picked that lock. He'd been forced to escape out the window. Halfway down he'd slipped, crashed the last fifteen feet to the ground, and landed in a prickly bush. Since he'd not had time to don his trews, hismanly parts had taken the brunt of his abrupt entry into the bush, putting him in a foul mood indeed. The wench sought to unman him before his long-anticipated wedding night.
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The running pants were tolerable, Drustan decided, relieved. The blue trews had clearly been a torture device and would have strangled a man's seed. Mayhap men were fashioned differently in her time. He hadn't seen one other bulge out there on the street; mayhap they all had wee carrots in their trews.
Whether he knew it or not, it was her Drustan, damn it all, just a month and five centuries younger.
And he would never have instructed her to tell his past self such a story and expected himself to believe it.
She glanced rapidly between them, blinking and hoping her double vision would go away. They were glaring at each other. Would they fight? If she saw her own double she probably be tempted to punch it once or twice. Especially today. For being so stupid.
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She'd had her way, and had the top--the third time--informing him he was her 'own private playground'.
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