His Innocent Luna: Bought and Claimed by His Bed

Briallen Wintermere lies still on the wide bed. Soft silk holds her wrists and ankles tight. A blindfold covers her eyes. Her short plus-size body feels heavy. Something dried and sticky coats her full breasts.

She shifts hard. The ribbons do not give.

“Where am I?” she whispers.

Footsteps sound in the hall. She freezes. The steps stop outside the door. Then they move away. She lets out a shaky breath.

Think. What happened last?

Caelor.

The night before at the Wintermere Ancestral Lodge the graduation celebration fills every room. Torsten Wintermere raises his glass in the main hall.

“I want to thank everyone for coming tonight. My Briallen is finished with school. She is a young woman now. Time to step into the real world. I love you, Briallen. You make me proud.”

Cheers rise. Briallen hugs her father quick. The words sit wrong in her chest. She needs air.

She heads for the back doors. Caelor Dreadmoor leans against the frame. Clear-lens glasses sit on his nose. Broad shoulders. Thick muscular thighs. Five-foot-eight of solid power. The man who has made her body tingle for years. The man who stopped coming around a year ago.

He straightens when she nears. One hand reaches out. A single finger traces her dark cheek.

“God, Briallen. That blush is the sweetest thing I have ever seen.”

He drops his hand fast. The glasses stay on. The soft look is gone. Hard face only.

“Good evening, Caelor.” She puts bite in the name.

“You managed to show up. Nice of you. We barely see you these days.”

“People have lives, Briallen. Your father is right. You are grown. Start acting like it.”

Her shoulders fall.

“Maybe I do not want to be grown.”

He mutters something low. Heat spikes between them.

“Fuck. I cannot do this right now. Move your little ass wherever you were headed.”

The lump rises in her throat. She forces anger instead.

“Then get your face out of the doorway.”

“Watch that mouth. You are not too old for me to bend you over and take those panties down.”

She gasps. Straightens her short frame as tall as four-foot-five allows.

“I would like to see you try.”

His hand clamps her waist. He spins her. Pins her back to the door. One hard thigh shoves between her legs. Left hand braces beside her head. Right hand grips her hip tight enough to send a sharp pulse straight to her core. Wetness soaks her panties.

His eyes drop to her mouth. He leans in. At the last second he turns and buries his face in her neck. Warm tongue drags slow up her dark skin. A moan slips out of her.

“You taste like pure innocence.”

She rocks her hips. Her soft folds press against his thigh. Pressure builds fast.

“Briallen!” Torsten’s voice cuts through the hall.

In one blink she stands alone. Caelor leans against the far wall like nothing happened. Glasses still on. Face blank.

Torsten appears.

“Nerys and her brother Garran just arrived. Go greet your guests.”

Briallen takes one last look at Caelor and walks away. She spends the rest of the night with Nerys Ashgrove and Garran Hollowclaw. Garran stays close. Keeps filling her glass. His touches linger too long. Make her skin crawl.

Every time she tries to escape a room, Caelor is there. Elswyth Thornfield hangs on his arm. Laughs too loud. Touches his chest. The sight sits heavy on Briallen’s ribs.

Dizziness hits hard. She needs new underwear. The ones she wears are ruined from earlier. She slips upstairs to her bedroom. Blue walls stare back. She digs through the dresser. Panties halfway down her thick thighs when the door swings open.

Garran catches her before she falls.

“Looks like you started without me, sugar.”

“You should not be in here. My father will lose it.”

“You are a big girl now. Cannot keep that cherry forever. I will make it good.”

The room spins. Her legs refuse to hold her.

“No. Stop. I just need to lie down. So tired.”

He eases her onto the bed. Hands tug at her dress. Full breasts spill free.

“These are bigger than I like, but I will work with them. I get to be first in this tight cunt. You should thank me. I saw that woman all over Caelor downstairs. Why would a man like him want a short, inexperienced, chubby thing like you?”

The words cut deep. She cannot lift her arms. Cannot speak. Eyelids grow heavy.

A crash explodes. Caelor stands over the bed. Glasses gone. Folded closed in one hand. One temple at a time.

“Someone has been a very bad little girl tonight. Seems you cannot take care of yourself after all. Rest now. I have you.”