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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He leaned to murmur in her ear. “Are you awake, wife?”

“I am not,” she mumbled.

“A pity. You will leave me to break my fast alone.” He touched a berry to her closed mouth, making certain that the juice painted her lips. “Though I do not mind having these all to myself.”

Her tongue darted out to taste. Her eyes flew open, alight with pleasure. “That’s a cap berry!”

“It is,” he confirmed, and tossed the purple berry into his mouth.

“What are you doing?” Her lips pursed and her eyebrows drew together in the severest reproof. “You’re eating it wrong.”

“Am I?”

“Let me show you.” She sat up, her hair wild and the covers sliding down around her hips, baring her breasts. “They are called cap berries for good reason. You must…”

Quickly she plucked a berry from the bowl he’d balanced on his upraised knee and capped her fingertip. She continued with more berries until her slender fingers were all topped, and then wiggled her fat purple fingertips at him.

“Now it is best to chase someone and threaten to touch them with juicy berry fingers. So you should run.”

“But I do not fear your juicy berry fingers.”

“You are no fun.” Her nose wrinkled and she bestowed upon Warrick an adorable pout before grinning up at him. “So we skip to the best part. When you are done chasing, you just—”

One by one, she sucked the berries from her fingertips, her eyes sparkling with her laughter.

Solemnly he said, “That is not how we would eat cap berries in the Dead Lands.”

Her eyebrows flicked upward, questioning and teasing. “Do cap berries even grow in the barren wasteland of the Dead Lands, my king?”

“They do not.” When she snickered, he tumbled her gently onto her back. “But if they did, we would eat them thusly.”

Warrick capped her small nipple with a berry.

“Oh!” Upon that exclamation, Elina caught her breath, her body stilling, her skin flushing.

He capped her other nipple, then bent his head. The berry burst under pressure from his tongue, the dark juice spilling down the curves of her breast. Elina’s fingers curled into the furs when he drew the smashed berry into his mouth along with the tight bud it covered. She made a sound low in her throat, her hips moving restlessly as he suckled and teased—then gasped for breath when he released her and moved to her other breast.

“Warrick!”

“I know it, wife,” he soothed. “I have left a mess of berry juice all over your delicious little tit. I will soon return to lick it clean, but first I wish to have more of my breakfast.”

She gave a choked laugh, then clasped her hands to his head as he burst the second berry with his tongue. “Make certain that you do a thorough job of the cleaning, barbarian.”

Warrick made utterly certain. Placing berries where he wished, he made a serving dish of her belly, her clit, her lips. Then he returned to lick and suck and kiss, until all that flowed over his tongue was his wife’s own sweet juices, and it was his head that was near smashed between her thighs as she came.

Her body was still quivering when he rose up to claim another leisurely taste of her mouth. “Can you take my cock again, wife? I will use my hand”—for the second time that morn—“if you are sore.”

“I can take you.” Languidly she wrapped her legs around his hips, both invitation and demand. Her eyes were half-closed, as if pleasure and passion weighed down her thick lashes. “I wish to feel you inside me again.”

To hear such from her nearly made him spend. Groaning, he told her, “I have thought of nothing but how well you took me, Elina.” His cock was as molten steel as he fitted the blunt head to her small opening. “Nothing but the feel of this hot cunt squeezing me so tight.”

As it did again. He watched her pink flesh part around his swollen shaft as he pressed inward. So soft and warm. A strangled noise came from Elina’s throat when he breached her entrance, then a cry when he shoved deep. Her body enclosed his aching length in a slick velvet grip, and it was all Warrick could do to remain still, kissing her berry-flavored mouth until her clutching sheath adjusted to the girth and depth of his possession.

When her hips tilted, as if seeking more, his already tenuous control began to unravel. He gave to her another deep thrust, her cunt sucking his full length on the draw and welcoming him home on the push. His arms braced beside her head began to shake, so easily did the exquisite feel of her steal his strength. Grasping desperately at some semblance of restraint, Warrick dropped his forehead to her shoulder before he tasted his way up her neck to growl into her ear.



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