Page 16 of The Dark Lord’s Guide to Honeymooning (and Other Acts of Tyranny)

Her whole body trembled as I pounded into her. Every thrust drove deeper, harder, chasing away the memory of those phantom wings and the gnawing certainty that something was coming for us. For her.

The sounds of our coupling filled the tent. My thrusts grew erratic as I chased my release, driving deeper, harder. She was moaning into the pillow.

I pulled her hair harder, forcing her to arch her back. The new angle let me hit that spot inside her that made her whole body seize. My foot knocked against something as I adjusted position, sending it toppling with a tremendous crash.

I didn’t care. Let the whole fucking army know I was taking my wife.

But Arabella tensed beneath me, embarrassment flooding through our bond.

“Stop thinking,” I commanded, punctuating the words with a particularly deep thrust.

She shook her head, fighting to keep quiet even as her body trembled on the edge. The conflict between her need for release and her determination to maintain some dignity in the middle of an army camp was holding her back.

Fine. If she needed permission to let go, I’d give it to her.

With a thought and a flick of my fingers, I cast a silencing ward around the tent. The magic shimmered into place, cutting us off from the outside world.

I bent low so I could speak into her ear. “Now scream for me.”

I thrust inside her a few more times, angling my cock just how I knew she liked it. Her body shuddered beneath me. Without the fear of being overheard, she let out a satisfying cry as she came.

The sound pushed me over the edge. I buried myself to the hilt and came hard, filling her with pulse after pulse of my release. Stars exploded behind my eyes. My runes sang with power. For a moment, nothing existed except her and this and us.

For a moment, we stayed like that, breathing hard. My whole body tingled and I didn’t want it to end. If someone had told me a few months ago that I’d rather stay buried inside my wife than conquer Solandris, I would have laughed in their face and had them executed for wasting my time.

“You could have cast that spell from the beginning,” Arabella said once she caught her breath.

“Where’s the fun in that?”

She pushed herself up on shaky arms and looked at me over her shoulder. Even in the darkness, I could feel the heat of her stare. “We’ve been trying to be quiet for weeks. In our own chambers. In our own fortress.”

I smirked, still buried inside her. “I’ve never made it a secret that I like people to know how thoroughly I satisfy my wife.”

She clenched around me deliberately, and my cock twitched with interest despite having just come. “Arrogant bastard.”

I pulled out slowly, feeling my seed drip from her. It sent a fresh wave of possessive satisfaction through me. Mine. Marked. Claimed.

We cleaned up in comfortable silence, though I noticed her movements were a bit unsteady. Good. I wanted her to feel me tomorrow while she rode into battle. A reminder of who she belonged to.

As we settled onto the bedroll, she curled into my side, her head on my chest. I traced a finger over her bare shoulder and then down to her breast.

“Kaz, what did you really see on the ridge?”

I tensed, but forced myself to relax. “Nothing that matters tonight.”

She didn’t press, though I felt her disbelief. Instead, she traced one of the scars on my chest, following the runic pattern carved there. Her touch was gentle, almost reverent. It made something uncomfortable twist in my chest.

“I’ve been thinking,” I said, changing the subject before she could ask more questions I didn’t want to answer. “About that fantasy you never got to share earlier.”

She stilled. “Oh?”

“I’ve found something for us to work on.” I kept my voice casual, though my cock was already showing interest again. Overachiever.

“Such as?”

“Intimacy with an audience.”

Her breath caught. Through our bond, I felt a spike of arousal mixed with embarrassment. Interesting. Very interesting.