The Midsummer Bride – The Dead Lands Read Online Kati Wilde

Categories Genre: Fantasy/Sci-fi, Paranormal Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 67421 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
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Oh.

Oh.

So much better. Elina wasn’t yet certain if it was pleasurable but never had she imagined this closeness, this fullness. Her hands cradled Warrick’s head and she drew him down for a kiss, loving the way he groaned so deep in his chest when she slicked her tongue over his each time his hips drew back and then he pressed into her again.

That was nice, too, the rubbing inside. And his face, the way he looked to be in such pain, but the flush of his skin and heaviness of his eyelids and the bellowing of his chest told her that he was as far from hurting as could be. She kissed him again, and his mouth was open against hers, but only breathing raggedly—as if he was lost to everything except his need to pump that thick shaft between her thighs.

Her hands smoothed down over his sweat-slick shoulders. “Do you like it?”

“Like it?” A rough groan ripped from him. “Elina. Your cunt is so tight. And so warm.” Warrick hung his head and pushed deep again. “I will not last.”

“It matters not. Only that you take your pleasure while you are inside me, my king.”

Warrick paused, peering down at her face. Then he tucked his hand between them again.

“Oh.” A shuddering breath escaped her. Everything was so sensitive, so stretched, that the glide of his fingers over her clit felt almost as if it were his tongue and he’d been licking her for hours and she was so near to coming again.

And now inside her— She gasped and gripped the arm braced beside her shoulder. “Warrick!”

“Like that.” He began to move again, not pumping his hips but grinding between her thighs, stirring that thickness within her, so that it was rubbing and rubbing and rubbing, and it felt as if every nerve inside her had become as exquisitely, painfully sensitive as the slick bud he was still stroking. “Look how you’ve taken all of me, Elina. I’m full deep. And never have I imagined such a cunt, so wet and warm. So ready to fill with my seed.”

Her inner muscles clenched and she cried out, her hips beginning to tilt and grind with him.

“Do you feel me inside you, wife?” He kissed her roughly, deeply, pulling back to push back in—and Elina knew not what had changed but that motion now made her back arch, and her toes curl, and inside her everything was tight and aching and it was wonderful and she needed more. “Do you feel me fucking you?”

“Yes! Oh gods.” The pressure within was increasing, as if he were becoming bigger and bigger but though he was thick, so thick, it was pleasure that he was filling her with, pushing it deeper and deeper with every thrust, deeper than her cunt, until it was filling all the rest of her, too—blinding her, stealing her breath, erasing every thought except that she always needed him inside her or she would never survive. “It’s good, Warrick! It’s so good.”

“Then take me, wife.” His hand left her clit to grip her ass, lifting her higher, higher. Grunting, he surged harder, his movements more erratic now, words tumbling from him, of the grip of her cunt, the wetness, how he needed her, how he loved her, how he couldn’t hold on.

Coming undone again. But inside her.

That realization hurtled her over the edge and she screamed against his throat, moving with him as all the pleasure he’d pushed inside her unleashed in a torrent through her flesh, clutching and pulling and shaking against him.

He groaned, a ragged tortured sound from low in his chest, his fingers digging into her ass, his cock pushing deep again and pulsing, pulsing within her. Releasing his seed, while he shook and kissed her again, wet and long.

Then he buried his face in her neck, his shuddering body still braced over hers, his hips still slowly stirring between her thighs. As if he would not stop until he’d given her every last drop of his seed.

Elina would happily take it. Wrapping her legs around him, she held him closer, and kissed his hair as he’d so often done to hers. “Are you alive, husband?”

“I am not.”

“A pity. I’d hoped to do that again soon. But maybe…like a beast.”

“Like pigs?”

She burst out a laugh before swatting his back. “You cannot tease me with that forever!”

“I can.” Warrick lifted his head. “I will.”

The intensity of that statement took her breath away—as did the way he gazed upon her face. Heart suddenly overflowing, she whispered, “Forever?”

“Forever,” he said, and bent to kiss her again.

Warrick the Glowing

Galoth

His queen was quite determined to sleep through the morning—and despite his claims of heartlessness, never had his chest seemed so full. Warrick lay at her side, his weight braced on his cocked elbow as he studied her face. Those expressive eyebrows, at rest while she slept. Her soft lips, still rosy and swollen from his kisses. Her sweet freckles, greater in number now that she no longer traveled under a covered carriage. He wanted to kiss every one.


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