Page 21 of The Warlord's Wildflower
Gods help me.
“I thought I was strong,” I tell her, my thumb brushing over hers. “But you might be the strongest person in this entire stronghold.”
Her exhale of an incredulous laugh whispers across my lips. It’s warm and sweet. Close enough to steal…
“Thank you for saving my life,” I say, and mean it with every scar, every breath, every beat of my not-dead heart. “Now let me spend the rest of it trying to deserve you.”
I don’t wait for an answer, I sit up in bed and kiss her.
Chapter Thirteen
Annie
His lips crash against mine, and I gasp, a soft, startled sound that’s swallowed by his kiss. His hand tangles in my hair, tilting my head back, and I melt. Oh, Gods. His mouth is hot, demanding, and I don’t know what to do except cling to his shoulders, my fingers digging into hard muscle.
Fenric growls, and the sound shoots straight between my legs. Before I can process it, his hands grip my hips and yank me forward. I yelp as I’m dragged across the bed, my knees landing on either side of his thighs, my body straddling his.
Oh. I’ve never…
My face burns. I can feel him, all of him, hard and thick beneath me. My breath comes in shallow, panicked bursts. I should pull away. I should—
“Look at me.” His voice is gravelly, his fingers biting into my waist.
I force my eyes open. When had I closed them? And meet his gold eyes, dark, and hungry with want. Forme.
His thumb brushes my bottom lip. “You’re shaking.”
I am. Everywhere. My thighs tremble around his. My nipples pebble against the thin fabric of my dress, the weight of my breasts suddenly unbearable. I’ve never been so aware of myown body, the ache between my legs, the slick heat gathering there.
“D-do I…” I swallow. “Do I need to stop?”
Fenric’s jaw clenches. His hands slide up my sides slowly until his thumbs brush the undersides of my breasts, and I inhale sharply.
“Do you want to stop?”
No.
The word lodges in my throat. I shake my head instead, my cheeks flaming.
His lips curl. “Then, don’t.”
One hand fists in my hair again, dragging my mouth back to his. The other cups my breast, his palm searing through the fabric. I whimper as his thumb circles my nipple, teasing, torturing me with each slow pass.
“Fenric!” I gasp against his lips.
“I know, blossom. I’ve got you.”
And then his mouth is on my neck, his teeth scraping the sensitive skin below my ear. My back arches, pressing my chest into his hands. His groan vibrates against my throat.
“You're so fucking perfect,” he murmurs, squeezing my breasts.
His hands slide under my hips, lifting me effortlessly. The quilt falls away, leaving only the soft leather of his breeches and the thin linen of my undergarments between us. I should feel exposed, but the way he's looking at me makes heat bloom across my skin.
“Fenric, I—” My words dissolve into a gasp as he settles me astride him. The hard length of him presses against my core, and my hands flutter helplessly. I don't know where to touch, how to move. Don't know how to handle the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter in my belly. Fenric does, though. His calloused fingersguide my hips forward, grinding me against him in a slow, deliberate circle. “Just like this.”
Oh.
Stars burst behind my eyelids. My nails bite into his shoulders as I rock against him, chasing the friction, the delicious pressure. Something warm and heavy begins to ache in my chest, a sweet tension building where my breasts feel swollen and sensitive.
