Page 107 of The Viking in the Vault
My hands find her hips and I undo the button and zipper, then slide my thumbs between the fabric and her warm, softskin. As I tug down her pants along with her underthings, I feel her shiver—but she doesn’t pull back. She steps out of the last of her clothes and stands before me in nothing but the torque and the bracelets, glowing bronze in the lantern light.
I kiss one hip, then the other. Elena groans, the scent of her arousal filling the tent.
“You are radiant,” I whisper. I join the fine chain at her hip, the silk falling between her thighs. “And tonight…you will be worshiped.”
38
ELENA
I’ve never felt more naked in my life—and not just because I’m standing here in nothing but ceremonial jewelry and a scrap of silk between my thighs.
It’s the way Ragnar islooking at me.
Like…like I’m holy. Like I’m the answer to a prayer he forgot he made. His pupils are dilated, lips parted, hands reverent as they skim the curve of my waist, the little rolls of fat that always embarrassed me with boys.
It’s not lust in his gaze. It’s awe. It’s devotion.
It’s that unshakable certainty that this, right here, right now, is fated.
I feel it too.
My heart is racing, skin flushed. Maybe I’m a little nervous, or maybe just excited. It’s hard to tell right now, when everything I do with this man feels like a promise.
His hands are on my thighs now, fingers splayed wide, pressing divots into my flesh. Every curve, every freckle, every breath I take…he looks at me like it’s all worth noticing. Like I’m worth noticing, when I may have felt plain in the past.
“My fenvarra,” he murmurs. “You are so beautiful I forget to breathe.”
He pulls me in by my hips, hands sliding to my lower back as he presses a kiss to each breast. I shiver, clutching him closer.
“I don’t um…” I pause, stumbling over my words. “I’m not as good at talking as you are.”
He lifts his head. “That is not true,” he says. “You talk with your heart. I hear you.”
I swallow hard, throat tight. His thumbs stroke the base of my spine, then he lowers his mouth again, kissing the curve of my belly, then lower still. The silk brushes it aside, and I gasp when he lifts it to drape over his antlers, his breath ghosting over me.
“Ragnar—”
“Yes?” he murmurs, tongue flicking out against my inner thigh.
“I just…I don’t feel like I can give you enough back.”
He pulls me closer, still underneath the silk. “Youareenough, Elena. More than enough. All I have ever desired.”
My breath hitches just as his broad, muscular tongue finds my clit, licking a long line along my slit. I grasp his horns, trying to stay standing as he hitches one leg over his shoulder, trying to stifle a cry. I don’t want anyone outside to hear me, the walls are just fabric and fur, it’s embarrassing?—
“Sing for me, mate,” Ragnar rumbles. “Let them know whose name is on your tongue.”
I let myself groan loudly as he sucks at my clit, then flattens his tongue again, licking me with a steady rhythm. His hands grip the backs of my thighs, anchoring me in place even as my knees start to tremble. The silk draped over his antlers shifts with each movement, a phantom caress against my thighs and hips.
“Ragnar!”
He growls, pleased, and I feel it vibrate right through me. I’m panting now, barely holding on, the pleasure building intight, dizzying waves. His mouth doesn’t let up—licking, circling, sucking—and when I come, I do exactly what he asked.
I sing.
My cry is muffled by the walls of the tent, but I’m sure the whole crew hears it…and he lets out a satisfied chuckle. This…this is what he wants. He’s wanted to claim me like this since the moment he met me.
He holds me steady, mouth working me through every spasm until my legs give out and I’m half-collapsed, hanging onto his antlers for dear life. Ragnar pulls away to emerge from the silk, taking me in his arms, and when he kisses me, I taste myself on his lips.
