Page 39 of Silver & Smoke
Wren broke away. ‘What if we’re caught?’
‘Would you like that, Embers?’ The thought sent a thrill right to his cock, as he once again pictured someone bursting in on them, his name on Wren’s lips in ecstasy.
Wren was writhing against his fingers. ‘I... I need more.’
‘Remember, you’ll have to be quiet,’ he told her, still toying with her.
‘I can—’
Torj reached for the discarded scrap of lace and put it to her lips. ‘I think you’ll need some help with that.’
Eyes wide, cheeks flushed, Wren allowed him to push the fabric into her mouth. As his fingers traced her collarbone, the sensation echoed on his own skin, the soul bond reflecting each touch, each ripple of need, until he could scarcely tell where his body ended and hers began.
‘Bend over the dresser for me, Embers.’
A muffled whimper sounded, but Wren did as he bid. He placed a flat palm against her lower back and pushed her down, so that her chest was flush with the dresser’s surface. He bunched her skirts up over her backside and groaned at the sight.
‘Spread your legs,’ he ordered. ‘Wider. Show me everything.’
Torj was rock fucking hard as he freed himself, sliding the length of his cock through her desire. He’d go mad if he didn’t get inside her. He didn’t care about the flimsy walls, or the Devereux bannermen down the hall... His soul-bondedneededhim, and he’d be damned if he didn’t deliver.
A guttural moan escaped Torj as he pushed the head of his cock into her tight heat. How was she this perfect? Wren Embervale was fuckingmadefor him. He pulsed there for a moment, savouring the sweet sounds of desperation Wren was making around the undergarments stuffed in her mouth.
And then she angled her hips backwards, and Torj slid home.
‘Fuck...’ he groaned as she clenched around him.
He kept one hand on her lower back, the other spearing through her hair, mindful of the poison-tipped pin. He gripped her tresses hard and she moaned, and that was all the encouragement he needed to start fucking her in earnest.
He lost himself in her. ‘Gods, you’re addictive,’ he grunted as he thrust, relishing the soft curve of her backside hitting his pelvis. He prayed there would come a time where he could take her slowly, building her to the brink over and over before he let her explode. But that was not what she needed now. No, he could read her body as if it were his own, and the way she met every hard thrust with a demanding tilt of her hips told him she needed the Warsword as well as the man – rough and primal instincts taking hold.
When she wriggled on the dresser, freeing a hand to reach between her legs, he fucked her harder, and he felt her thighs tremble as her climax started to unravel.
‘Yes,’ she moaned around the material still in her mouth, grinding back against him.
At the sound of her, Torj felt himself spiralling out of control, the build-up becoming too much to bear.
That familiar thread of gold flickered to life between them, and he thanked the Furies – for it was the only thing in this gods-forsaken world he was certain of.
Wren moved beneath him, knocking a bottle off the dresser as the peak of her orgasm hit. The way she felt, the way she rolled her body – it tipped Torj over the edge, his own release tearing through him like a storm. He came inside her, biting back a shout as his whole body shuddered.
Panting, he collapsed over her back, kissing the length of her spine over her dress. ‘Was that what you needed?’ he asked huskily, his body still trembling in the aftermath.
Wren removed the undergarments from her mouth. ‘Gods, yes,’ she managed, resting her brow against the dresser.
Smiling against her neck, Torj slid from her body, running a gentle hand over the curve of her backside. ‘Wait there.’
Wren gaped at him in disbelief. ‘Like this?’
But Torj only moved a few steps to a nearby pitcher of water and took a strip of fresh linen from the supplies. Wetting it, he brought it back to Wren and gently washed between her thighs, wiping away the evidence of what they’d done.
‘Was I too rough?’ he asked, pulling her skirts down and tossing the rag aside.
‘You were perfect,’ she replied as he gathered her into his arms.
He kissed her soundly then, savouring the taste and feel of her before breaking away to rest his brow against hers. ‘Worshipping your body is my honour,’ he told her. ‘My fucking privilege.’
She cupped his face with her palm, smiling softly. ‘The feeling is mutual, Bear Slayer. Gods, I’ve missed you.’
