Page 71 of Untethering Dark

Kissing his bony cheek, Astrid applied more pressure and continued to roll her hips in torturously slow, needy circles. She watched the tension build in him, a steady climb, muscles bunching, spine tightening.

Pleasure shivered through her.

He sucked in a breath and held it. Even with her fingers clasped on either side of his windpipe, he kept holding it, craving more restriction than what she gave. After counting out thirty seconds in her head, she whispered into one fuzzy, pointed ear, “Breathe, love, I’ve got you.”

His chest rose and fell with an obedient ragged shudder, only to still again, breath held once more.

Maintaining light pressure on his neck, Astrid rode him harder, faster, needing to watch him unravel beneath her, and gave breathing reminders. Yet it was the forest king who did not relent, the pistoning of his hips evoking dizzying pleasure.

Claws pierced rock as hooves slipped off bedding, scrabbling for purchase on the ground. His upward thrusts when he regained his footing were wild and erratic.

“Want me to stop?”

“No,” he growled, shaking his head. She had to duck to avoid the swing of his antlers. “So close.”

At this rigorous pace, it’d be moments. For him. For her.

Her heart hammered wildly against her rib cage.

“Come for me, Gudariks,” she whispered, lips ghosting his cheek. “Have your finish.”

Everything in him seized—muscles strained, claws clenched—and then with a tattered sigh the dam released. Warmth rushed into her, pulse after pulse.

Clinging to him desperately, grasping fingers locked in fur, she shattered, her body greedily taking his offering. The orgasm that ripped through her shocked her into silence.

This was more than colliding bodies. This was the collision of hearts and souls.

She knew it in how desperately she wanted to curl up with him, kissing, whispering, and giggling in the dark, long after reaching pinnacle satisfaction.

All at once, they slumped together, utterly boneless.

She withdrew her hand from his neck. “Good?”

With a sated, rumbling laugh, he scooped his arms around her, bowing his forehead to hers. “More than. You?”

“More than,” she agreed, stifling a yawn.

His eyes twinkled with mirth. “Putting you to sleep, am I?”

“Sorry.” The yawn escaped anyway, and she curled against his chest, content to fall asleep there. “Haven’t been sleeping enough.” Eyeing her pile of clothes, she wrinkled her nose at the idea of putting them back on and trudging home. But she needed the rest.

Smooth claw charted a slow path down her cheek. “Stay.”

Was that a command or a plea? Hard to tell through the rough rasp of his voice. And she didn’t want to go. Didn’t need to go. Fritz and Liesel had enough food laid out for them to last until tomorrow morning, and she didn’t need to take her next dose of hag potion until then anyway. So why not stay and nurture this budding thing between them, whatever it was?

“I’m sure I can be persuaded,” she answered softly. In truth, it would take very little to do so, her mind already as good as made up.

He laid her on top his nest of blankets, and then, sliding back, parted her thighs as he whispered, “At least let me clean you up.”

Oh, Mutter Holle, yes please.

She nodded, fingers winding around his antlers as he settled between her knees and bent to the task of lapping up the beautiful mess they made. He did such thorough work of it, it wasn’t long before she was pulling his head closer, bucking her hips against his mouth, and falling apart all over again.

“Satisfied?” he teased.

“Mmm, for now.”

Sleepily, they burrowed beneath the blankets. Fleeces and wools of various colors and brands, no doubt collected off hikers foolish enough to stay after dark.

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