Page 30 of The Warlord's Wildflower
“Fenric!” My nails rake down his sweat-slicked back, clinging to him as pleasure coils tighter, hotter, until I’m shaking.
I whimper when he angles his hips, hitting a spot that makes me moan with every drag of his cock. It's torture and ecstasy, the thick length of him claiming me again and again.
“I can’t!” I scream, my body tightening around him.
“Yes, youcan!” he snarls, biting down on my shoulder as his thrusts turn brutal. “Come for me, Annie.Now.”
The command snaps something inside me. Pleasure detonates, white-hot and relentless, and I sob his name as I shatter.
Fenric groans, low and rough, before his hips stutter. Heat floods me as he spills deep, his cock pulsing inside me, filling me until I’m dripping. He doesn’t stop, fucking his release into me with slow rolls of his hips.
“My mate. Forever,” he murmurs against my lips, kissing me like he’ll never get enough.
And I never want him to.
Chapter Eighteen
Annie
The courtyard the next morning, sunlight dripping like honey through the leaves overhead. I walk slowly, my body aching in places I didn't even know could ache. Every step reminded me of exactly where Fenric’s hands, mouth, andotherpartshad been last night.
We definitely didn’t make it to the feast.
Not that we'd planned it that way. We had fully intended to slip back in, late but presentable. But after we'd gotten dressed and were about to leave, Fenric had lifted me up and pinned me against the door of our chambers and… well.
I’ve never felt so thoroughly ravished or soloved.
Maeve is lounging on the fountain’s edge when I find her, fingers skimming the water’s surface. Her smirk when she sees me is instant, like a cat who’s spotted the cream.
“Well, look who's alive,” she purrs, flicking a droplet at me.
I sink onto the stone beside her, legs tucked carefully to avoid certain sensitive areas. “Barely,” I admit, biting my lip against a smile. “We, um… got sidetracked.”
Maeve laughs. “I bet. It's probably for the best, though. The feast was a disaster.”
I perk up. “What happened?”
She leans back, eyes glinting with mischief. “Garron was furious after the tournament. Would’ve started a brawl if Dakar hadn’t stepped in.”
“And?”
“And,”she drawls, “he solved it by mating him to Bridget.”
“What?”
Maeve’s grin widens. “Bridget wanted status. Garron wanted clan ties. Dakar gave themexactlywhat they deserved.” She wiggles her fingers. “Poof. Problem solved.”
A delirious laugh bubbles out of me. I’m torn between shock and sheer relief that both of them will be gone. “Beatrice is…diabolically brilliant.”
Maeve bumps my shoulder. “Isn’t she?”
The breeze carries the scent of lavender, and, for a moment, we just bask in the quiet. Then, I nudge her. “Have you seen Beatrice?”
Her smile dims. “She's locked herself in her rooms.”
My chest tightens, remembering how sad she had looked yesterday at the tournament, and I make a mental note to check on her, maybe bring her something sweet from the kitchens later.
Maeve stands, brushing off her skirts. “Dakar and I leave in a few days for Garron’s mating ceremony.” Then, her gaze flicks over my shoulder, and her smirk returns. “Speaking of mates…”
