Page 29 of The Warlord's Wildflower
“Fenric!”
He sucks hard, his tongue flicking, teeth grazing just enough to make me gasp. His arms band around my waist, holding me up as he switches to my other breast, lavishing it with the same rough devotion.
One hand slides lower, fingers tracing the point where thigh meets hip. My breath comes in shallow pants as he teases closer until his fingertip brushes my clit.
I cry out, my hands fisting in his hair. He chuckles, the sound dark and pleased, as he circles that sensitive flesh with agonizing slowness.
“So wet for me already,” he murmurs.
His other hand grips my ass, kneading the flesh as he dips a single finger between my folds. I gasp while he traces my entrance, the pressure maddeningly light.
“Please,” I whimper, shameless.
“Tell me what you want, little one.” His breath scalds my ear.
“Inside. I want your fingers-”
With a groan, he pushes a thick finger inside of me and doesn't stop until his knuckles press against my mound.
“Gods,” he grits out, watching where his finger disappears into me. “Like fucking silk.”
He starts to move, slowly dragging in and out, each stroke sending sparks up my spine. When he adds a second finger, my nails score down his shoulders.
“That's it,” he praises, his thumb finding my clit again. “Take what I give you. You feel too good. Gods, I could spend hours just fingering this pretty cunt.”
The crude words send a fresh rush of wetness between my legs. His fingers curl, rubbing some secret place inside that makes my back arch off the bed.
“Come for me, Annie,” he demands, his mouth sealing over mine. “Let me feel you.”
I shatter with a scream he swallows down, my body clamping around his fingers as pleasure rips through me like wildfire.
Then his fingers are gone, replaced by something much bigger. The thick, blunt head of his cock presses against me. I suck in a breath. Stars, he’s too big.
“Relax,” he orders me in a strained voice.
I try, but when he begins pushing inside, my body burns, stretching, stinging, and I cry out, nails digging into his shoulders.
Fenric stills instantly, his jaw clenched. “Breathe, Annie,” he grits out.
Tears prick my eyes, but beneath the pain, there’s something else, a deep, needy pleasure. I want this. I want him.
“More,” I whisper.
His groan is raw and desperate.
He pushes deeper, inch by agonizing inch, until he’s fully sheathed inside me. The pain is sharp, overwhelming, but so is the rightness of him claiming me.
“Look at me,” he demands.
When I do, his golden eyes are wild and possessive, but his touch is gentle as he brushes away my tears. “You're taking me so well,” he rasps. “My perfect mate.”
Then he's moving.
The pain melts into pleasure, into fire, and I arch against him, moaning as he fills me again and again.
“Mine,” he snarls.
He bottoms out into me, I cry out, but he swallows the sound with another kiss, murmuring words of praise against my lips. His cock stretches me so full, each thrust a delicious burn that makes my back arch again and again. I can’t stop the scream tearing from my throat as he drives deeper, his hips slamming against mine with possessive force.
