The Taming: Book 3 in the Tribe Warrior Series by Imogen Keeper (romantic novels in english TXT) 📕

“I missed you, amiera,” he breathed into her mouth, and they’d kissed hundreds of times, maybe thousands, but it had never been like this, because there’d always been doubt and fear and confusion all twisted with a soupcon of mistrust.

There was none of that now. There was nothing but hunger and need coiling low inside her body, because even though she had a thousand questions about what was about to happen, she didn’t really care.

This would end with him inside her, claiming her, making her his, and all that mattered was that they were going to be together for the rest of their lives.

He kept trying to slow her down, but she didn’t want slow. He kept trying to be gentle. But she didn’t want gentle. She climbed into his lap, pulling her skirts up so she could straddle him, and get all that hard, long Prime length of him near the hot, needy part of herself that called to him.

Her hips bucked at the press of his pants against her bare, wet skin.

His body jerked, and he let out a long, low growl, pressing up against her. It wasn’t anything they hadn’t done before, but it was different this time, because there’d be no holding back. Not this time. Not ever again.

And because there were no manners in bed with Tor, she let the wild part of herself take over, and she growled back.

His face registered brief surprise before his tongue tangled with hers, and then his hands were everywhere, moving and pulling and tugging her until they were both breathless.

“I need you, Tor.”

He growled at that, his hands gripping her bottom, his tongue still deep in her mouth, and he stood up and walked them to his chamber.

Her shoulders hit the bed, and she scrambled her way backward while he crawled up over her, their noses bumping as they tried to keep their mouths together. She realized she was smiling, and so was he.

He pulled away for a second and yanked his shirt over his head, and the scars and the tattoos and the rippling, beautiful, perfect abs with the mesmerizing veins that spread lower. Later, she’d spend hours reacquainting herself with all of them, the scars and tattoos and each of those abs and the veins, she’d drag her tongue along every single one, but not now.

Now she just needed him. Because he smelled so good. Her head was spinning, and she didn’t feel entirely in control of her own senses. She felt dizzy and desperate, like she’d been starving forever and he offered everything she’d ever wanted.

A stab of need drifted through her lower abdomen.

His hands drifted to her laces, tugging at them impatiently. The bodice opened. He cursed at the dress and, after a second, sank his finger into the top and yanked. The fabric ripped down to her navel, and she shivered when her hard nipples were exposed to the cold air.

He tilted his head back as if in prayer. “Vaniiya, I love these tits.”

He would use the word love for the first time in person when referring to her breasts. And then his hands and his mouth were back, at her neck, on her chest, roving over her breasts, tugging the rest of the dress away, and she was naked, and somehow so was he. He’d managed to kick off his boots and get his pants down around his ankles. She reached her hand down between them, groping, desperate to feel him.

It bumped against her thighs, hard and long, and her mouth went dry. She reached for it, closing her fist around its thickness, feeling the silky-soft skin.

“Vaniiya,” she said, trying out the word. “I love this cock.”

He froze, the muscles of his chest tightening, and his mouth released her nipple and the pearly orbs of his eyes found hers. She’d expected him to growl something about promising her that she’d say that again soon, or that he’d make her say that every day of her life, but he didn’t. He stared at her with a look of such intense longing it twisted her heart. “And the rest of me?”

She didn’t even hesitate. “So much it’s scary. So much I don’t even trust myself. I considered killing Staria earlier because no way was I going to let you see her through a heat. I don’t think I’d have done it—not really, but I’d have locked her in the brig and let her suffer through it alone. Tie you to the bed if you even considered going to her. I wouldn’t have even felt bad about it.”

He kicked his pants off one ankle. “I’d have killed her for sure. She’s annoying.”

Klym laughed. “She’s not annoying. But I’m not sharing.”

He stroked his thumb along the corner of her lips. “I’m all yours.”

He found her lips again with his, and of all the kisses she’d known from him—and there had been so many—this was the softest, the kindest, the gentlest.

He touched her everywhere, as if it was the first time he’d seen her body, moving so slowly she bucked and growled with frustration, but every time she reached for him, he batted her hands away. When he slid a finger inside her, she pulled on his hair and clutching at him, rocking against him, trying to get the angle right. She was so close.

“Don’t come yet,” he breathed in her ear. “This time, you’ll do it with me inside you.”

She nodded frantically, her body shuddering. “Hurry, then.”

When he rose up, his weight on his elbows over her, panting, and fitted himself between her thighs, it just felt so right. Like he was answering a question her body had been asking her whole life.

He stroked the broad head through her wetness, and pushed inside.

He pulled her legs around his waist. And it barely hurt. He slid inside so slowly, rocking back and forth, pressing kisses and whispering words at her. Maybe it was Vestigi, or maybe they were old gods—she barely heard them. All she knew was