Page 39 of Cider, Spice & Orcish Nights
I bite his collarbone, tasting salt.
He rolls my nipple between finger and thumb until the spark of pain melts into heat. His cock hardens again as he presses closer, the stretch making me gasp.
“Eyes,” he murmurs against my throat when my lashes flutter shut.
“Not fair?—“
His tongue slicks up the column of my neck. “Open.”
I obey.
The reverence in his gaze mirrors the slow drag of his cock, each withdrawal leaving me empty until the desperate clench of my pussy draws him back. His thumb circles faster. Our mingled sweat slicks the path between our bodies, my breasts sliding against his chest with every thrust.
“Say it.” His voice frays.
“Thornak—“
He stills entirely, muscles quivering. “Proper.”
I dig fingernails into his biceps. “Husband.”
A growl rips from him as he pistons forward, the angle shifting to rub that sweet spot with every snap of his hips. My thighs quake, the sweet agony building like steam in a kettle.
“Let go,” he rasps.
The command unravels me. I arch with a shattered cry, walls fluttering around him as he drives deep. His groan drowns in thecrook of my neck, teeth grazing skin as he spills. The worktable creaks a protest beneath our tangled weight.
His lips find mine in the aftermath—soft, lingering. The kiss tastes of apples and something ancient, like the cedar carvings he whittles by firelight. I card my fingers through his hair, sticky with sweat at the temples.
“Truce?” His smile ghosts across my jaw.
I bite back a moan as he slips out of me. “Until moonrise.”
He lifts me effortlessly, cradling my weight against his chest. Outside, the first birds test their dawn songs. Thornak’s heartbeat thuds against my palm, steady as a war drum.
CHAPTER 30
THORNAK
The world’s turned to frost and hush again. Late autumn slipped off with barely a whisper, and winter swept in right behind her, scattering thin blankets of white across the orchard like a careless maid shaking out table linens. The old branches stand dark and bare under the weight of it, every twig etched in delicate crystal lines that glitter when the sun gets high enough to peek through.
I’ve always liked winter, if I’m honest. Quiet time. Slower days. Gives me an excuse to linger by the hearth, mend my tools, carve little scraps of wood into things no one ever needs but everyone seems glad to have. But this year, winter’s different. It hums under my skin, a bright, almost reckless sort of hope that keeps curling up around my ribs until I have to stop what I’m doing just to let it settle.
Because this year, she’s here. And so’s the little one growing right under her heart.
I stand back from the half-finished frame of the new bakery wing, arms crossed, breath misting out in long plumes that disappear quick in the sharp air. It’s solid work—sturdy beams, roof sloped just right to shed the snow. Maddie’s been dreaming of extra ovens and wide, bright windows for years. I told herI’d build it come spring, but watching her now with her belly rounding out gentle and proud, I couldn’t wait.
Even if my joints bark at me every night for the extra hours. Even if she fusses something fierce whenever she catches me out here with my sleeves rolled up, hammering away in the dark like I’m twenty winters younger.
“Thornak Ironjaw,” she calls from the porch now, hands braced on her hips, her voice all stern brightness that doesn’t fool me for a second. “Don’t you dare pretend you’re not planning to lift that whole support beam by yourself. Wait for Garris to get here—he said he’d swing by after delivering flour.”
I grunt without turning, just to rile her up. “Didn’t hear nothin’. Could’ve been the wind scolding me.”
“Ha!” Her laugh floats across the yard, bright and sharp as sleigh bells. “Biggest wind in this orchard’s standing right there with sawdust in his hair, trying to act innocent.”
I turn finally, just to catch the way her smile tugs a little shy when our eyes meet, like she still can’t quite believe we’re here. Together. Building this.
It does something to me every single time. Even now, with snow creeping under my collar and calluses split from cold.
