Chapter Thirty-Five
The acorn stopped her conceiving, but it couldn’t stop it hurting the first time. Even though Oliver warned her, and even though she was expecting it, that first thrust was more painful than she’d anticipated. Primrose inhaled sharply and tensed.
Oliver halted, his body braced over hers. “Prim?” He began to withdraw.
She gripped his biceps, digging her fingers in. “Don’t you dare stop.”
“Ow,” Oliver said, and then he bent his head and nipped her earlobe. “Bossy.”
“An absolute shrew,” Primrose agreed, aware of the enormous and painful size of his organ inside her. It hurt, dash it.
“That’s not alliteration.”
“What?”
“An absolute . . . what? Give me some alliteration, Prim.”
Primrose struggled to think. “An absolute . . .” God, her mind wasn’t working. “An absolu
