Broken In At Whiskey Creek: A Whiskey Creek Western Erotic Novel

I built Whiskey Creek alone, guarding every soft curve and sharp word so no one could see how much I fear being wanted for the wrong reasons or having my will bent by someone stronger. Benedict Forsyth is the one man who won't look away, his limp a reminder that he survived worse than my defiance, and every time he steps close I feel my independence cracking under the weight of his gaze.

In the hayloft at dawn, dust motes drift through the slanted light as his hand settles at the small of my back and his fingers close around my wrist. The straw shifts under us, but his grip stays unyielding, promising the kind of control I have spent my life refusing.

I can feel the first order forming on his tongue, and the ache in me is that I might just obey before my stubborn will has the chance to fight back.

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E-bog: 20. juli 2026