Page 22 of The Warlord's Wildflower
“That's it,” he growls, one hand sliding up to tug at the laces of my dress. “Use me.”
The cool air kisses my skin as the fabric falls open. His breath catches as his hands cradle the weight of them, thumbs brushing over peaks already stiff and leaking. I whimper as a bead of milk escapes, glistening in the firelight.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs, and then his mouth is on me. The first pull from his lips wrings a cry from my own, my back arching as pleasure arcs through me. He groans against my skin, the vibration making my toes curl, as he licks and suckles with just the perfect amount of pressure.
I don't understand this feeling, the way my body responds to him, like it was made for this. Made for him. Every tug of his lips sends fresh waves of heat pulsing between my thighs, where I'm grinding against him with increasing desperation.
“F-Fenric,” I gasp, fingers tangling in his hair. “I don't— I can't—”
He releases me with a wet pop, catching the spilled milk with his thumb. “You can,” he promises, swiping the droplet across my parted lips. “And you will. Let me show you.”
As his mouth claims mine, tasting of salt and sweetness, I realize I'd do anything this man asked of me.
His kiss tastes like my milk. It’s sweet and strange. I moan into his mouth, still rocking against the hard ridge of hisleathers. The friction isalmostenough, but not quite. I whimper, my body trembling with need I don’t understand.
Fenric pulls back. “Annie.” His voice is rough, but his hands are gentle as they frame my face. “I want to taste you. Everywhere.” His thumb traces my lower lip. “But only if you say yes.”
I know what he means. Maeve and Beatrice had giggled about this, about men who kneel between thighs like they’re praying. The thought makes my cheeks burn.
“I’ve never…” My voice is barely a whisper.
“I know.” He kisses my forehead, my nose, each flaming cheek. “We’ll go slow. Tell me to stop anytime.” His fingers drift to the laces of my dress. “May I?”
I nod, squeezing my eyes shut as he peels the fabric away. The cool air makes me shiver, but his hands are warm, skating down my arms, my ribs, my waist, worshipping every inch.
“Gods, you’re beautiful,” he murmurs.
When his fingers hook into the waistband of my undergarments, I tense. He pauses. “Look at me, little one.”
I force my eyes open. The hunger in his gaze doesn’t scare me, though. It undoes me.
“Yes.” I breathe.
He strips them away, his breath catching. My heart was hammering so hard I thought it might burst from my chest as Fenric stretches me out beneath him.
“F-Fenric…”
“Shhh,” he murmured, his voice a warm rumble against my skin. “Let me take care of you.”
I cover my face, but he tugs my hands down. “No hiding. I want to see you.” Then he’s lowering his head, and—
Oh!
His tongue laps me slowly, like he’s savoring his first taste of honey. “Fenric!”
“That’s it,” he murmurs, his breath hot against me. “Just like that, my sweet mate.”
Mate.The word lingers at the edges of my mind, half-formed and dizzying, before white heat crashes through me and I forget how to think at all.
A whimper escapes me as my fingers twist in the sheets. There’s no space in my thoughts to dwell, not when he does it again, firmer this time, his tongue dragging in a long, slow lick that makes my hips jerk. I whimper, my face burning. Am I supposed to move like that? But his growl of approval vibrates against my skin, and his hands slide under my thighs to hold me steady.
“Shh, it’s alright,” he soothes, pressing a kiss to my inner thigh. “You’re doing so well. Such a good girl.”
His mouth returns to me properly this time, but there’s a reverence in the way he tastes me, like he can’t get enough. He licks into me, deep and slow, his tongue pressing against my entrance before swirling upward in a tight, teasing circle around the spot that makes my toes curl. I cry out, my back arching, but Fenric doesn’t stop. He just keeps licking, over and over, each stroke a little firmer, a little hungrier, until my entire body shakes.
“F-Fenric, I—oh!” My voice breaks as he suddenly closes his lips around that throbbing little bud and sucks, his tongue flicking rapidly against it. Pleasure shoots through me like lightning, so intense I nearly sob.
“Gods, you taste so sweet,” he growls against me, his fingers digging gently into my thighs. “So fucking perfect. Annie, your cunt is so pretty and wet for me.”
