Page 77 of The Pumpkin Bride

Her little death was imminent.

The movement of her hips grew more insistent, and soon, the keen turned into a wail. She lost herself to pleasure, had achieved her pinnacle. The greedy squeeze of her core undid him, and with a roar, he joined her in shared oblivion.

His thighs trembled as he rested his head against hers, determined not to press his weight onto her overmuch. She locked her legs around the small of his back, pulled him to her.

Powerless, he collapsed, then rolled to his side.

She twisted her face toward his on the pillow, pressed her palm to his cheek, then kissed him. “That was amazing.”

“Agreed, Princess.”

She traced a circle on his chest. “But we can do better.”

Chapter 20

Marigold woke before Barnaby’s blood-curdling call. With a satisfying stretch, she turned and smiled at Jask’s sleeping form. Much better to find him there, unlike the mornings that followed her dreams of him in her bed.

This time it was real.

She felt tipsy, but without the ill effects. Happy and languid, unable to count the number of times she and Jask made love. That was what last night had been. Not a tumble, this.

Love.

She resisted the urge to brush free the curtain of hair covering half his face. His chest rose and fell with deep, rhythmic breaths. She also stayed her hand from tracing the lines of his rounded muscles beneath the lone bedsheet covering him.

Because orcs, in fact, ran hot.

Were he awake, he would not enjoy the same view of her. Snuggled under a pile of blankets, this might’ve been the coziest any person had been in the history of time. Light rain pattered the panes, she was warm—but not too warm, didn’t yet need the privy, and slept the glorious deep slumber brought about by rigorous exercise and a clear mind.

Jask had been the exercise, and as for the clear mind?

She’d reached a decision.

She wasn’t returning to Thornwick.

No, she’d stay here in the hinterlands with Jask on Grimroot Farm. She’d never thought her shattered heart would mend after Bram’s death. But it had, in the unlikeliest of places, with the unlikeliest of people. She wouldn’t take this feeling for granted. Not again. No, she’d hold on to it with both hands and never let go.

Saints, she wanted him again.

Was it healthy to feel this much desire? Eh, fuck it. If her humors were out of balance, she liked them this way. At court, Bess had expected her to be reserved, to dim her light so as not to outshine the menfolk. But Jask enjoyed her sharp wit from the first. Encouraged her questions and asked several in return. Never mocked her for enjoying fairy tales. No, he simply quietly sat and carved while she turned pages.

Compatible, blissful.

And in bed, they were fire.

That, she hadn’t expected. Had hoped, of course. But with Bram, it had taken ages to learn what pleased her. He’d been a game partner, but it had taken experimentation. Not Jask, though. He knew exactly how to please her without awkward learning period.

She frowned. Wait. How—

Barnaby shrieked at the faint glimmer of light in the sky.

Jask took a deep breath, then fluttered open his eyes. He rolled toward her and smiled. “Good morning.”

“How many lovers have you had?” she asked.

With a snort, he said, “That’s not the greeting I expected.”

“Good morning, my lusty Hercules. I hope you slept well. Now, how many?”