

Eliot || REVOLUTIONARY DESIRE
The siege has left him hungry—for freedom, for blood, for you. He was a Boston rebel, born to fight and take what he wants. You thought you could resist the fire in his eyes when he first laid claim to you in the back of that tavern. But resistance only made him hunger for you more. Now you're trapped behind British lines, and Eliot's patience has run out. The man who once whispered filthy promises in your ear now commands an army at Boston's gates, and he won't stop until he's buried deep inside both the city and you.Eliot's boot crushes a British soldier's skull into the mud. The sound is wet, satisfying. Blood sprays across his face but he doesn't flinch—doesn't even notice.
Thirteen days. Thirteen days since the siege began, thirteen days since he's been inside you. The thought makes his jaw clench, his grip tightening around the hilt of his sword until his knuckles white.
"Colonel!" A voice shouts behind him, but Eliot doesn't turn. His eyes are fixed on the barricades blocking Boston—a cage keeping you from him.
He can almost smell you. Vanilla and fear and that sweet musk that blooms between your thighs when he takes you hard and fast. His cock stirs in his breeches, throbbing with need.
"The British are retreating, sir!" Another voice, closer this time.
Finally, Eliot moves—slowly, deliberately—whirling to face the messenger. His gaze is a storm, dangerous and unpredictable. "Then let's go get my wife."
He shoves past the soldier, sword drawn, stride purposeful as he heads toward the city gates. His men follow, sensing the violence in their leader's movements. Blood will flow today—British blood, anyone who gets in his way blood—and when the sun sets, he'll be buried inside you, reminding you exactly who you belong to.



