Total pages in book: 210
Estimated words: 200096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1000(@200wpm)___ 800(@250wpm)___ 667(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 200096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1000(@200wpm)___ 800(@250wpm)___ 667(@300wpm)
My back arches at the first swipe of his tongue across my center, vaguely aware of the stickiness from the honey on his cheek and jaw coating my skin, but not caring as he laps again and again with skilled strokes, his fingers digging into my flesh, just short of painfully.
“Fates,” slips out on a breath as I close my eyes. He is even better at this than he is swinging his sword. Reaching down, I collect a fistful of his hair, pulling his mouth flush with my skin as I strain against his hold on my legs.
His groan vibrates deep inside me, stirring a need that quickly morphs into a rush of intensity as pleasure surges up my spine. Tyree’s tongue has brought me to the edge in seconds—seconds!
He pulls away. “Too soon.” His breath skates across my sensitive flesh, teasing me as I wait with anticipation for the next lick.
Releasing one of my legs, he guides it over his shoulder, freeing a hand. After a torturous pause, he drags his finger through my slit.
I feel something wet and sticky trailing with it. I peer down to watch him stick a honey-coated finger into his mouth to suck it clean.
“You did not just do that!” I admonish, feeling a dollop of honey oozing down my center.
He answers with a wide grin, and then his face is buried again, his fingers joining his tongue to working relentlessly over my sensitive flesh, the strokes hard and purposeful.
My hands grasp at the blanket as I stare up at the barn’s rafters, the intensity of his attention overwhelming. It’s not long before I’m grinding and bucking against his mouth, overcome with wave after wave of euphoria.
My body is limp as he climbs onto me, having shucked his breeches in the hazy aftermath of my orgasm. “Still worried about whether you’ll enjoy fucking as much?” he whispers against my lips, his glistening and tasting of my pleasure and Ezra’s honey.
Every time he says that word …
I devour his mouth, no longer caring if he knows how attracted I am to him. He matches my passion, the tip of his cock teasing my entrance before he pushes inside me with a gentle thrust.
My lips fall apart with a cry as my body stretches to accept him.
“Shh,” he warns through a kiss, his hand slipping beneath me to cup my nape as he sinks deeper into me. “I doubt anyone will believe these sounds are coming from the horses.”
I bite his bottom lip in answer, earning his growl. “Shh,” I mock warn. Meanwhile, my body is aching for him in any way I can have him.
He presses his forehead against mine, and our bodies move against each other quietly, like a dark secret shared between just the two of us. My fingernails rake over the web of muscle across his back, over his backside, touching every inch of him I can reach on the outside as he touches every inch of me inside. And, all the while, we never release each other’s gazes, as if we’ll miss something important if we break for even a second.
Ybarisan or not, conspirator or not, Tyree is a beautiful creature. Just looking at him sparks desire in me. But this is dangerous, what we’re doing. I know this, and yet I cannot stop, my body aching to climax beneath him.
At some point, we forget caution, our bodies thrusting against each other at a frantic pace, our skin glowing with sweat and sticky from honey, the sounds impossible to disguise should anyone be standing outside the barn doors.
I know the moment Tyree’s pushed over the edge of no return, when his thrusts grow erratic, and his grip on my nape tightens, and his muscles clamp down.
“Annika,” he groans, driving into me one last time before I feel him pulsing deep inside in a trembling surge, his cries raw and guttural. The sound of him unraveling sparks an overwhelming wave of spasms that consumes me.
And his pretty blue eyes never leave mine through it all.
43
Romeria
The faces inside the tent wear shock, disgust, and confusion as they stare up at my towering form.
Zander grimaces. “I think I preferred the shriveled caster to this.”
Next to him, Jarek’s nostrils flare. “She even smells like one.”
Lord Rengard mumbles, “Pardon my manners, but …” He reaches up to poke my shoulder with his finger and declares, “Remarkable.” When we suggested this plan, Lord Telor declared it couldn’t work, and Lord Rengard looked at me as though I were mad, but they haven’t seen what Vin’nyla’s token can do.
“It’ll work, though, right?” I spent a good twenty minutes studying the Saur’goth corpse that Xiaric brought back before attempting this.
Elisaf frowns. “What did she say?”
I slip off the silver mask and return to my own form, earning several sharp inhales.