The Tollkeeper (Fairy Tales Behaving Badly) by Annie Eppa

Author:Annie Eppa [Eppa, Annie]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2013-08-16T21:00:00+00:00

The Mountain found her horse, still grazing underneath the tree. The girl wrapped herself in his fur cloaks, blushing, for her dress was beyond repair. For the first time in weeks, he left his house on the banks by the stone bridge and traveled with her, to the small house she had shared with her grandfather on the furthest edge of the forest, where few people thought to look. She told him a little about herself. How she remembered living in a small village, before a fire broke out and took their house, and her parents’ lives. Of her grandfather’s sudden aversion to living among the populace, because no one had tried to help them. How they found a small cottage in the woods, and had been living there ever since, with a small garden to get them by. She had gone into some villages for a few other meager supplies, but this did not happen often enough for her to be noticed.

When she had heard of the repaired bridge she had taken her chances, hoping she could earn more money for medicine, for her grandfather was weaker. When she had first seen him, walking up to her on the bridge, she had been wary, at first.

“Because I looked like a monster?” He asked, chuckling. He had been called worse by others.

“No,” she said and kissed him, “you were like a majestic stone statue, one who could attack as easily as protect. And as soon as you spoke to me I knew you were kind. I liked how you looked - large and strong and comforting. Every time I crossed that bridge I felt safe, knowing you were there.”

“I am glad you found me kind,” he said, hands already undoing the cloak she wore, pushing the thick material off her shoulders, baring her nakedness to him.

“I like how sometimes you can be kind, and how sometimes you…” she paused and gasped, for the Mountain had taken her breasts in his massive hands, “… are… not.”

They stayed the night. Because she was still sore from the previous night’s excess, the Mountain took her into his mouth instead, her slim hands gripping his rough mane of hair as she moaned out her pleasure. His tongue working deep into her, caressing the places he had previously overlooked; opening up her wet little crevice with his rough, thick fingers. By the time he was done, she was as weak as a kitten, too sensitive to endure more. The Mountain looked down at where she lay burrowed against his chest, his arms around her waist, and found peace.

She had very little possessions, and the Mountain carried them all easily, in his large hands. They stopped by a small grave the next morning, and paid their respects to the only family Billie had ever known. They headed to Barton’s Common, where the villagers knew the Mountain on sight. They were amazed to see him with the beautiful redhead, to watch him sell her horse to an innkeeper.

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