Page 6 of The Warlord's Wildflower
The memory of his words makes my hips jerk. I imagine it's his calloused fingers teasing me open instead of my own, his broad body pinning me to the mattress, while his mouth whispers filthy praise against my neck.
“Please,” I beg the empty room.
Two fingers sink into my dripping core, and I bite my lip. Sweet Gods, it's a little uncomfortable, but the pain melts into mind-numbing pleasure as I curl them just so. My walls flutter desperately around the intrusion, greedy for more.
“That's it, little songbird,” Fenric's phantom voice growls in my ear. “Take what you need.”
My free hand goes to my breast, and my fingers tentatively circle the peaked nipple. I gasp when I pinch, and a sudden bead of milk pearls at the tip. The shock of it makes me whimper, but I don't stop. My other hand moves faster between my thighs, fingers slick and desperate. The sounds are shameful, but I can't bring myself to care.
I pull my nipple, another sweet sting, and more milk trickles in thin rivulets down my flushed skin. “F-Fenric,” I moan. The dual sensations overwhelm me, the ache of my swollen breasts, the throbbing between my legs, until I'm writhing, back arched high off the bed, lost in a haze of pleasure so intense it hurts.
“Oh, Gods!” I sob as the orgasm rips through me, violent and all-consuming. Stars explode behind my eyelids, my core pulsing around my fingers as wave after wave of ecstasy crashes over me.
When the last ripples of pleasure finally fade, I’m left breathless and trembling. My thighs clamp together tightly as if to hold onto the feeling. The sheets beneath me are rumpled, my nightdress clinging to my flushed skin.
Oh Stars.
I bury my burning face in the pillow. A proper maiden shouldn’t do such things. But, beneath the shame, something new and daring unfurls in my chest.
Because now I know what it feels like. And suddenly, I can’t stop wondering what it would be like if it were Fenric’s touch instead of my own.
The thought sends a fresh shiver down my spine. Would his calloused hands be gentle? Would his voice be rough in my ear as he coaxed these sounds from me? Would it feel even better?
I squeeze my eyes shut, but the images won’t leave: Fenric above me, his gold eyes dark with wanting, his body covering mine. The fantasy makes my stomach flutter in a way that’s equal parts terrifying and thrilling.
As I curl into the blankets, my body still humming with satisfaction, one wish lingers.
I want to know.
Chapter Two
Fenric
The sun isn’t even up yet, and already the stronghold is buzzing. I roll my shoulders, stretching out the stiffness from the night. My body’s ready. I'm the youngest Captain this stronghold’s ever seen, and I never let anyone forget it.
“Try not to fall flat on your horns today, old man,” I call to Rokan, one of the senior warriors polishing his axe nearby.
He snorts. “Bold words for a Calf with barely two seasons under his belt.”
I give him a cocky grin. “Bold words are all I have until the tournament starts. Then, it’ll be your pride bruised, not mine.”
Laughter ripples through the courtyard. It’s all in good fun, mostly. Tournaments bring out the swagger in each of us, but there’s no denying I’ve got something to prove. Some of them still think I rose too quickly and that I’ve got too much charm, not enough grit.
They’ll see today.
I tighten the leather wraps around my wrists, flexing my fingers. My horns gleam in the morning light, freshly polished. My chest is bare, save for a crimson sash knotted at my side. It flutters when I move. It's ceremonial, but I like the flair. A little drama never hurt anyone.
And still, in the middle of all this, she’s in my head.
Maker’s breath. Just the thought of her tightens my chest. She’s gorgeous, and not just in that soft, sweet way that makes me want to protect her, but in a way that makes me want toravish her. To drag her into the meadows and see if those pretty little gasps sound as good when they’re muffled by my cock.
I didn’t mean to overhear her singing the other day, but Stars, I’m glad I did. It was like everything else just stopped. Even the wildlife seemed to hush, as if every creature in the garden held its breath to hear her. I wonder if she could tell how badly I wanted to close the distance between us yesterday, how deeply I desired to pin her against the fence and swallow that startled little sound she'd made when I was knocked on my ass and landed at her feet, like a fool. The one time Jorel managed to get the upper hand on me, she'd had a front-row seat.
Fantastic.
I haven’t stopped thinking about it since, or about the way her dress clung to her hips when she turned to leave.
She’s wrong if she thinks I haven’t noticed her. Most of the males have made comments about her beauty since the day she arrived, but they don’t see her the wayIdo.
