She moaned, low and deep, and rocked against his hand as he stroked her heated flesh, readying her to accept him inside her. When her hips rose with each caress, he lifted his and placed his cock at her opening.
“Brienne,” he whispered. “Open for me, love,” he urged. Then, as she opened, relaxing her legs, he pressed into her. Not gently, but a constant movement, inch by inch, until he was buried deep.
Home.
He waited, gathering his crumbling control and waiting for her body to adjust to his invasion. When she rocked her hips and gasped, he knew she was ready for the rest of it. Easing out of her, he stroked back in, using his cock to rub against the walls of her channel. She gasped and then began to moan as her body became wild beneath his.
“Put your legs up here,” he said, guiding them up to his hips. “Hold on to me, love. Hold on.”
Will began slowly thrusting in and sliding out, alternating deeper and harder with slower and gentler, his own muscles hardening and urging him on. His ballocks tightened, and he knew he would spill his seed soon. Leaning down, he kissed her hard and deep.
When he opened his eyes, she whispered to him. “Bring on your warblood, husband,” she urged in the husky voice of arousal. “Bring him now.”
His vision had gone red and he had not realized it. He thrust harder then, aching to be part of her flesh, craving the feel of her tightening around his cock. Every part of him wanted her, wanted to conquer her, take, have, possess. He gave in to her begging sobs and took her, until she screamed out and fell apart under him.
He felt every wave of pleasure as it moved through her. Every muscle, every spasm as her body took his release until he was empty. He inhaled her; he exhaled her. Then they breathed as one. Their hearts beat as one, in time with the other until he could not tell which was his or hers. Their flesh, filled and filling, throbbed as their releases eased.
He could not move. He did not wish to. Ever.
The fireblood belonged to the warblood.
Mine. Mine. Only mine,the creature chanted. She was his mate.
Brienne was his.
He drifted off a bit, undone by her reaction and the complete satisfaction he felt. He felt the laugh rather than heard it as she answered him deep in his mind.
As you are mine.
The night passed much too quicklyfor his liking. The only thing that comforted him was knowing she was and would be his for a long time. After the first time, he rolled to his side and pulled her into his arms, holding her and listening to her breathe in her sleep.
He would have been content, feeling lighter and more at ease than he had in years. He would have been fine if she had not shimmied herself closer to him and sighed. Thinking her asleep, he’d ignored the call of his flesh. Then she arched her bottom against it, and he gave up fighting it.
You will be sore.
I will be fine,he heard.
You have no idea what I want to do to you now that I have you.He let several things float in his thoughts, ways he wanted to take her, things he had not yet done with or to her.
Her body answered for her, pressing against him and rocking her hips until he lifted her to her knees and showed her one thing that he wanted to do. This time her release came quietly in a long series of gasps as her flesh gripped his and milked him dry.
When daybreak finally broke into their haven, William was not certain he would survive herhavinghim if every night were like this one.
ChapterTwenty-Seven
Marcus and Roger watched as the couple walked back into the camp. They laughed at the bawdy comments thrown their way by his friends. The bride blushed at every one, more likely now to understand their meanings than before.
Warblood and fireblood joined, now in heart, mind, body, and soul. He watched as they did not need to say words to speak to each other. This was a blessing from the gods and would be helpful in the coming battles.
Marcus had no doubt that this would not end easily. Roger, the warblood’s man, agreed. For, in spite of his resistance and in spite of Marcus’s lack of battle skills or experience, Roger de Bardem and he had forged a truce.
Now they each had bad news to deliver to William. They walked first to the fire, where they accepted a bowl of porridge and then they greeted him and Roger. Marcus invited them to sit, sending a few men down to pack the tent so they could leave soon.
“The others arrived late last night, Will,” Roger reported. “None are happy that they missed the fight.”
William’s gaze narrowed for a moment while he listened to Roger’s words.
“What are you not telling me, Roger?”
