Page 67 of The Brute and the Blade

"Shhh," he soothes, breath a warm gust over my most intimate flesh, making me shudder and mewl. "Let me taste you, Lily. Let me worship you, work you open until you're wild and wanting, weeping with readiness for my cock, my seed..."

And then his mouth is on me, broad ogre tongue delving deep, lapping up my essence like the finest of wines. I keen high and sharp, back bowing like a drawn bow as pleasure, hot and honey-thick, floods my veins, my voice.

He devours me, slow and savoring, stoking my need, my hunger, to a fever pitch. Until I'm bucking and thrashing beneath the onslaught of lips and teeth and clever, crooked fingers, chasing completion even as I crave the consummation only he can provide.

"Please," I sob, eyes squeezing shut against the scorching sensation. "Please, Grok, I need...I need you inside me. I need you to fill me, fuck me, remind me of all that I am, all that we are together..."

A rough sound, a raw surrender, and then he's surging up my body, broad hands bracketing my hips as he notches himself at my entrance. "Look at me," he commands, the words dark and drugging. "Let me see those emerald eyes, my own...I want to watch you shatter, see the moment you fly apart from the force of my possession..."

I obey breathlessly, meeting his molten gaze, glowing with lust and love. The love we've forged through fire, through the crucible of war and the balm of our bond.

The love that will see us through any storm, any strife...and emerge all the stronger for it.

"Lily," he rasps, so much reverence, so much need, in the syllables of my name. "My heart, my home, my very soul...take me. Take all of me, everything I am and ever will be..."

With a slow, inexorable roll of his hips, Grok sheathes himself inside me to the hilt. I cry out at the sudden stretch and fullness, my body bowing to welcome him, accommodate him. He holds there for a long, shuddering moment, savoring the slick clasp of my inner muscles, the molten embrace of my core.

Then, with a guttural groan, he begins to move. Long, deep strokes that kindle the sweet ache low in my belly to an inferno, each withdrawal and surging return stoking that inner fire higher, hotter.

I meet him thrust for thrust, lost to the fever, the ferocity of our joining. This primal dance as old as time, as elemental as the turning of the tide or the wheeling of the stars.

All that exists, all that matters, is the give and take of our bodies, the broken music of panting breaths and reverent profanity. I've never felt so full, so deliciously stretched and subdued...yet at the same time, so powerful, so utterly in command.

Because this male, this indomitable warrior-king...he is mine. My mate, my mirror...the other half of my heart and the anchor to my untamed soul.

Just as I am his. Bound together across every barrier, every boundary, by a love that conquered the darkness and forged a path to the light.

A love that even now builds and builds between us, bright and all-consuming as a wildfire, as we race toward the precipice. Grok's thrusts grow erratic, rougher, a telltale tremble in the hands that grip my hips, guiding and gentling me as he rides me ever higher.

"That's it, my little blade," he grits out, sweat standing out on his brow, his chest, as he labors over me. "Take what you need, what you crave...let me feel you come undone..."

I keen, a high, fractured sound of desperation, of dark delight. Rallying the dregs of my strength, I wrap my legs tight around his pistoning hips and arch up to meet him, taking him impossibly deeper.

"With me," I demand, voice shattered silk. "Come with me, Grok...let go, fill me, paint me with your pleasure, your possession..."

His roar shakes the rafters, resonates in my very bones as his rhythm finally fractures, dissolves into a frenzy of snapping hips and slamming flesh. I feel him swell and pulse inside me, the thick ogre ridges flaring to rub mercilessly along my fluttering inner walls.

It's too much, too intense, sensation cresting and breaking over me like storm surge. I shatter with a hoarse, ragged cry, climax cascading through me in waves of shivering ecstasy.

And Grok is right there with me, spilling hotly, heavily into my milking depths as my clenching sheath wrings him dry. The feel of it, of his seed painting my womb, branding me from the inside out, is indescribable...a claiming, primal as a prayer.

I am his, as he is mine. Two souls, two fates, forever fused.

Slowly, we subside into a languid tangle of limbs, aftershocks shivering through us both. Grok gathers me close, unmindful of the slickness between our bodies or the swell of our child between us. Breathing me in, face buried in the damp tangles of my hair, as his hands trace idle, aimless patterns over every inch of my skin he can reach.

I burrow into that beloved bulk, that cherished harbor, still joined intimately and utterly content to remain so. Bathing in the afterglow, the affirmation of our bond, even as the realities of the world beyond these walls, these stolen moments, try to encroach once more.

But for now, lulled and languid in the hazy aftermath of passion, I let them slip away. Let myself float untethered, anchored by my mate's presence, his unwavering faith.

We lay like that for long, lovely moments, trading soft touches and softer words. Until a knock sounds at the door, and the voice of my brother, apologetic but urgent, summons us back to ourselves. Back to the mantle of leadership, the burden and the blessing of the roles we've taken on.

With a sigh, I lever myself up, pressing one last kiss to Grok's lips before slipping from the bed to set myself to rights. He follows suit, retrieving the clothes that lay strewn about the room in testament to our passion.

As we dress, donning our armor both literal and figurative, Grok pauses to cup my cheek in one great palm. His eyes bore into mine, deep and limitless, shining with conviction and the shadow of concern.

"Are you ready, my heart?" he asks softly, searching my face.

I turn my head to press a kiss to his calloused palm, then meet his gaze firmly. "With you by my side?" I affirm, the words ringing with bedrock belief. "I'm ready for anything. Everything. No matter what comes."

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