He leans down and sucks my nipple into his mouth, lathering it with his tongue, then moving to the next one and dipping his mouth between both. His tongue is hot and exploring as his cock drives in and out of me.
“Harder…” I moan.
He doesn’t just start fucking faster. He knows exactly how to drag in and out with his deliciously slow, hard strokes. The breath explodes from my lungs with every snap of his hips, going so deep with his massive cock I swear I can feel him all the way up to my ribs.
His powerful thrusts jolt my body up the mattress until I nearly hit the headboard, but he just drags me back down, one hand hitching up my hip so he can angle me further. So he can get evendeeper. So he can make love to me with a fierce and devastating rhythm.
I don’t just fall over the peak. I explode out of it, like molten lava expelling from the mouth of a volcano.
My pleasure bursts free, tearing from the very center of my core, spraying me in heat, gushing over us with wetness. I scream from the bliss of it, from the totality of it all, my entire body covered in my own rapture.
Osrik drags his perfect cock in and out, fingers digging into the skin at my hip, and he captures my mouth, tasting my breath. Then he drives into me so hard it steals my sight, eyes squeezing shut as he groans against my lips.
His own molten lava floods into me then, spurt after spurt, until his balls empty and his head drops down against mine, and all we can do is pant and clutch each other.
When I’m finally able to talk again, I peel open my eyes and look up at this man who completely took me by surprise in every possible way. “That was…”
“Like I said. Fucking perfect,” he growls again before he cradles my body into his and turns us so I’m lying on top, his cock still latched inside of me, my pussy still fluttering with the aftershocks of our pleasure.
The best pleasure I’ve ever felt. Not faked. Not forced. Not rushed. And certainly, not a job.
For the first time, I experienced pleasure not as a saddle. I experienced it for me…because of him.
Looking over, I take advantage of his closed eyes and watch him as he holds me with possessive adoration.
“Well?” he asks, cracking one eye open as if he could sense my gaze. “Are we a mistake, Rissa?”
The answer is easy, and I smile at him. “The best mistake I ever made.”
CHAPTER 8
COMMANDER RYATT
Being a new commander hasits difficulties. But being a new commander when you’re suddenly being invaded is just bad fucking luck.
With Slade, Lu, and Judd gone to Ranhold, and Osrik caring for Rissa, preparing our army has been assigned solely to me. It’s a title I’ve wanted, a role I’ve been waiting to step into, but I’m questioning if I’m ready.
If I truly deserve it.
I’m doing everything I can to make sure our army is prepared. Now, they await orders. Mobilize or fortify.
It’s one of the orders I’m going to have to give, as soon as I get a messenger hawk from Slade letting me know what the fuck is happening at Ranhold and if they’ve gotten Fifth’s army ready.
A message I should’ve gotten by now.
That thought has been plaguing me since yesterday. I know how fast Argo can fly. Slade should be at Ranhold. But I’m trying not to think that something is wrong. There could be a lot of reasons why I haven’t heard from him yet.
I just need to be patient.
“Ho, Commander.”
I turn away from watching drills, where I’ve been waiting for the lieutenant to finish so I can go over some more preparations with him. I see Keg walking toward me, his army leathers pristine, boots polished.
“Keg, everything alright?”
He stops next to me at the fence around the training area, his twisted black hair swinging with his movements. “We got word—shipments that were in transit arrived in the city. With this amount and the next ones on schedule, we won’t have to ration anymore. City or barracks.”
I let out a breath of relief. “Good. But we need to prepare for a siege as well. I hope it doesn’t come to that, but just in case.”
