Page 127 of Of Sword & Silver

When he unleashes himself, my entire being responds, like our magic, our souls, are calling to each other, like this is meant to be.

His mouth finds the tip of my breast and I rip at his pants with a moan on my lips, the noise of the river drowning out the rising sound.

He helps me, shoving his pants all the way off, and I push at him gently.

“I want to see you,” I tell him. “Let me look.”

There is no shyness in him as he pulls away, letting me look my fill. Everything about him is exquisite.

Broad shoulders and a chest sculpted by the gods themselves. Narrow hips and powerfully muscled legs, everything about him screams warrior, from his huge arms and calloused hands to the network of scars across his skin.

“What do you see, little liar?” he asks, tilting his head.

“I see a male who is worthy of being trusted.” I pause, licking my lips. “A male worthy of love.”

“Fuck, Kyrie.” He dives back on top of me, pinning my wrists over my head as his mouth teases and bites one nipple, then the other.

I am powerless to do anything but cry out, to arch my back and beg for more.

I am powerless against him, and for the first time in my life, gods, it feels good to stop fighting, to trust that he will give me pleasure, that he will keep me safe.

My leg goes around his hip, his cock nudging at my entrance.

He hisses out a breath, his teeth rough on the peak of my nipple, and I cry out, making the nearby horses stamp at the ground in concern.

“We have an audience,” I tell him on a laugh.

The sound of my laugh abruptly cuts off as he thrusts my legs apart with his knees. A muscle jumps in his temple.

“I don’t care,” he tells me. “Do you care? Do you want to stop?”

I shudder, shaking my head. “No. No, please don’t stop. I need this. I need you.” I thrust my hips up and we both groan as the tip of his cock grazes my sensitive clit.

“Are you wet for me?” he asks, and I smile mischievously at that.

“You could find out,” I say archly. “It is a large sword to sheathe.”

He huffs a laugh, his big hands smoothing over my naked body until they’re at my hips, holding me in place.

When his mouth dips between my thighs, I immediately buck at the hot warmth of his tongue. He swirls it around my clit slowly, tantalizing me, one hand palming my breast and pinching my nipple until I can hardly breathe.

Need rages through me and I’m babbling senseless words, begging for more.

“Still not wet enough,” he growls, and then his fingers are inside me, stretching me, filling me.

When he sucks on my clit, forcefully, demanding—I scream as I come.

A flock of birds wing from the trees above, black specks against the grey winter sky.

“Now you’re ready for me,” he says, and despite the gruffness in his voice, there’s tenderness there, too. “I want to watch you ride me, Kyrie.”

He rolls us then and, chest panting, I do as he asks, needing more, wanting more from this male, this opposite of me, this creature who answers a question I didn’t know I was even asking.

I take his cock in my hand, marveling at it, and the Sword groans, the muscles in his neck tight with his own need.

“You want me?” I ask him, grinning like a maniac.

“Kyrie,” he says, a note of warning in his voice.

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