Chapter 38
Folami
The door to Peytor’s room quietly clicked shut behind us, plunging the room into darkness.
I could breathe then, let my mask fall for just a minute in the dark where no one could see.
That was the thing about my position, my persona, I had to be Torin’s general at all moments of the day.
Constantly “on” with no reprieve save when I was hidden in my room with my daughter or now, with Peytor.
I heard him shuffle behind me, toeing off his boots by the doorway, before his strong arms wound around my torso, pinning me to his broad chest. My breaths came in shallow pants, both from his touch and from the stress of today—from the blatant insults and faintly veiled threats.
I hate the north.
“I know you do, Fo, I know,” Peytor whispered in my ear, and I realized that I’d said that out loud.
His calloused hands ran a soothing motion up and down my arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake.
I relaxed further into his hold, molding my body with his as he gently laid his head on my neck, subtly breathing in my scent.
“You washed your braids today?” he commented, and I nodded my head, the beads clicking and tinkling with the movement.
“It was time. Plus, you said you liked the smell of the soap I use . . .” I trailed off, suddenly embarrassed by the fact that I washed my hair because a man enjoyed its scent.
Who was I becoming?
I twisted my lips wryly and stiffened slightly in Peytor’s arms. He exhaled heavily against my neck before peppering kisses along the outside and down to my shoulder.
“Stop that,” he admonished lightly. “Stop thinking. It’s okay to want to do something because someone else likes it.
It doesn’t make you any less feared. In fact, I think I may respect you even more for it.
It means you’re taking others’ thoughts and opinions into account.
There is nothing wrong with that,” he murmured against my neck, and I craned it slightly in the opposite direction so he had further access to my exposed skin.
I sighed, choosing to store my thoughts for a different time, and not when it was the last night I had with Peytor for the gods knew how long.
“Let me take care of you tonight, Folami,” Peytor said as his hands moved down past my arms until both of his hands gripped my waist. My abdomen inadvertently tightened at the contact, and he groaned in my ear. “Do you know how sexy it is that you’re this strong?”
I hummed softly. “Sexy” was not something I ever consciously tried to achieve—my body was strong because it needed to be. My mind was a fortress because I needed protection. I wore my hair in braids because it was a nod to my heritage and a “fuck you” to the Warlord.
Nothing I did was purposefully attractive.
But Peytor found it so, just the same. All parts of me.
“It’s true. That’s the beauty of bisexuality, I think,” he mused as his fingers lifted the hem of my tunic to expose my body to his ministrations.
He traced idle, slow circles as he spoke, lighting my skin with an internal fire and causing desire to pool low in my belly.
“I see the beauty in everything, everyone. There’s no discrimination, just attraction and desire. ”
I wasn’t looking for love, or even a sexual partner, when we’d rescued Peytor from the mines.
But there was something about him that just enthralled me.
It started as a friendship almost immediately when we came back to Lishahl.
There was a dead look in his sunken eyes that I felt compelled to erase.
I helped nurse him back to health—brought him meals in his room when he didn’t want to leave, cleaned and cut his hair when he first arrived, and walked with him around Lishahl Manor to start rebuilding his stamina.
Originally, we didn’t say much, just took comfort in each other’s company.
I think the brokenness in me reached for the shattered pieces of Peytor, our grief and shared trauma acting as a bonding agent.
Eventually, he started opening up about his horrific experiences in the mines, and I returned his stories with tales of my own trauma.
Itanya became curious about the man we’d rescued from the mines, and she began to accompany Peytor and me on our walks.
I think he fell in love with her first. With her vibrancy and zest for life that you could only find in a five-year-old.
She drew him pictures of rainbows and fairies, of flowers and forests.
Then, one day, she drew a picture of the three of us together, like you would draw a family.
And I saw his heart melt—tears sprang to his eyes as he said nothing, just knelt to give Itanya a fierce hug. One she returned with gusto.
That night was the first time we’d had sex. It was like the final piece of the puzzle clicked for me—seeing him with my daughter—and if she loved him, then maybe I could too. Or, at the very least, trust my body with someone else.
From then on, we acted like a family in private.
I was still hesitant to show my relationship with Peytor to others simply because I didn’t want the inevitable scrutiny and whispers that followed me to attach to someone as good and giving as Peytor.
But whatever this was between us was getting harder to ignore.
“I think you’re beautiful,” I mumbled a little breathlessly as his fingers swept beneath the band on my pants. Peytor chuckled into my neck at my words.
“Is that so?”
I nodded slightly, the back of my head pressed against the top of his shoulder. I was tall, especially for a woman, and I was nearly the same height as Peytor. Where that would usually intimidate other men, Peytor simply saw it as part of me.
The way he treated me and loved me—so openly and honestly—was something I believed I didn’t deserve. Though Peytor did his best to try and dispel those toxic thoughts.
“Want to show me how beautiful you think I am?” he purred into my ear with a slight nip at my earlobe.
Fire shot through my nerves, and I felt myself nodding again as I turned suddenly in his arms, his hands releasing me and resettling on my back once I pressed my chest to his.
I gazed into his storm-grey eyes that were darkened with undiluted desire and lust before dropping my gaze to his full lips as I gently stroked the edge of his strong jaw.
He really was a beautiful man.
“Are you waiting for an invitation, my little warrior?” His sensuous lips curved into a lightly teasing smile just as I pressed my lips to his.
I felt a groan build in his chest before he released it, and I caught it with my mouth, swallowing his sounds of pleasure as our lips moved together. Our kisses were never chaste or small—each time we came together, we devoured each other, like it was our first and last kiss.
Tonight, Peytor tasted slightly like the whiskey he’d consumed after dinner.
It wasn’t something I usually enjoyed, but I found it was my favorite flavor when it came from his tongue.
Our lips slid and danced as Peytor’s hands wound their way up my back, pulling me tighter to him, as if he wanted to meld our bodies together into one.
I answered his urgent kiss with one of my own, gently nipping his bottom lip and swallowing his answering moan.
My hand left his jaw to find the hair on the back of his head.
Ever since the mines, he’d taken to wearing it short, and this was the longest it’d been in months.
I could weave my fingers through it just enough to pull against his scalp, eliciting another groan and a rock of his hips that pushed his hard cock directly onto the outside of my pussy.
“I want—need—to be inside you,” he whispered into my mouth between kisses. “If this is the last night I have with you for gods knows how long, I want to fall asleep with your pussy wrapped around my cock.” A wave of arousal swept through me with his sinful words, and I nodded my agreement.
Our hands were a bumbling mess as we frantically tore at each other’s clothing, desperately trying to be free of their confines, desperate to join together, to feel at ease.
No one calmed me or centered me like Peytor, no one made me feel as safe or as in control as he did, even when I gave him this power.
I pushed my pants and underwear down before quickly stepping out of them, hopping on one foot, then the other, while Peytor made quick work of his shirt and belt. His pants got caught in haste, however, and he growled at the inconvenience.
“Fuck it,” he said and left them hanging around his thighs.
There was something so attractive about that—the fact that he wanted to be inside me so desperately that he still wore his pants.
“Come here, love,” he panted, gesturing with an open palm.
I willingly went to him, twining my arms around his neck as my lips pressed to his for another sensual kiss.
Peytor’s broad hands wrapped around my ass before spreading my cheeks as he hoisted me into the air. My legs wound around his waist, pushing my pussy against his dick as precum wept from the tip.
Shamelessly, I rubbed my wet and swollen core against his length and took great pleasure in the moans the movement elicited.
Peytor nipped at my bottom lip and pulled back slightly.
“I want to watch you when I sink into you,” he whispered. His pupils were blown with arousal, his chest panting with desire as he shifted my weight to one hand and used the other to free his cock from between his body and mine.
He notched the head at my entrance, and I felt just the tip slip in, stretching me slightly.
Peytor closed his eyes on a groan before resting his forehead against mine.