Page 99 of The Queen and the Half-blood
Her ragged cries tore through the tent, even as wild pleasure clenched and pulsed through her loins. She was vaguely aware then of the flames in the nearby brazier and the burning cressets that hung from the roof crosspieces flaring bright. However, she was too lost to dwell on the fire’s response to her climax.
She shuddered and writhed as he continued to suck her through it. And then, when she lay there upon the table, panting and boneless, he rose from between her legs.
Their gazes met.
Alar tore off his clothing. Lara stared at her husband, her mouth going dry as she raked her gaze down his nakedness. He was magnificent. The ruddy light burnished his hard-muscled body and the snarling wolf tattoo across his chest. Its eyes glowed red tonight.
His shaft reared up from a nest of dark hair, a vein pulsing along its engorged length. Moisture glistened on his crown, and her breathing caught.
After Dunchadh, she’d vowed never to touch a man’s prick, but she forgot about that now. Pushing herself up, she reached for him, one hand fastening around the base of his shaft, while she trailed the fingertips of the other up his hot, hard erection.
He made a choking sound in the back of his throat.
Encouraged, she slid the hand that gripped him up the length of him, thrilling at the way he grew even bigger and harder as she did so. She glanced up then, her gaze meeting his.
Her heart kicked. Gods. The way he was looking at her right now. It made her want to utterly forget herself. Their gazes locked, even as she continued to work him. A nerve flickered in his cheek, pleasure rippling across his aquiline features.
A thrill washed over her. She loved being able to touch him like this, to have him in her thrall.
Moments later, he grabbed hold of her wrist, stilling her.
Lara gave a cry of protest. Damn him, she was only getting started. She wanted to make him lose control. However, the next thing she knew, he’d shoved her onto her back upon the table, hauled her hips closer, and parted her thighs once more. Hooking his hands under Lara’s knees, he pushed her legs back.
And then, with one, deep, punishing thrust, he drove into her.
She cried out—for it was a shock to be invaded like this—before hunger twisted in her lower belly. This was what she craved, for him to make her his. Tobrandher.
Sweat glistened on his chest and upper arms as he withdrew from her, almost to the tip. He was staring between her thighs, where their bodies joined, and the look on his face made her tremble.
It was hot. Carnal.
He thrust into her again, and this time, she angled her hips up to meet him, bringing him deeper still. Growling her name, he ground into her.
She whimpered. Pleasure coiled deep in her womb, an aching pulse that made her sweat and tremble. She was so wet now, so hungry for him.
“Is this how you want to be fucked, Lara?” he ground out, rolling his hips once more.
“Aye!” she cried, without a shred of shame. “Please!”
Pinning her legs back, he rode her in savage plunges that made the table rock. And with each thrust, she bucked hard against him. It was a duel. She wouldn’t be consumed by his passion but would equal it. Thrust for thrust.
And all the while, Alar’s gaze seared hers.
Held fast, Lara gave herself up to him. It was breathlessly raw to stare at each other while he plowed her. The masks they’d both donned since the beginning fell away, and at that moment, she knew he cared.
Lara’s breathing turned ragged, a storm gathering inside her.
The intimacy made the pleasure clutch even harder. Emotion churned in her chest, even as her loins turned molten. Arching up, she gave herself up entirely to it, grinding herself against him, while her climax shuddered through her.
Light flared around them.
Alar snarled a curse. His lean body trembled, his eyes wild now. The roaring brazier next to them now gilded his sweat-slick skin. He shouted her name then, his spine arching as he came.
37: MY QUEEN
ALAR SCOOPED HIS wife up into his arms.
A few strides took them across the sheepskins to the pile of furs waiting for them. Around them, the brazier and cressets had settled down. When she’d shattered—for the second time—earlier, he’d thought she might set the tent alight.
