Page 112 of The Viking in the Vault
It’s easy like this. Soft…strange, but cozy.
Then I shift again.
And I realize he is a little too randy for just having breakfast.
“Oh,” I say. “Um…you’re…”
Ragnar’s hand flexes, warm and heavy on my leg as he puts down our empty bowl. He leans in, his breath ghosting against my ear.
“Yes,” he says. “I am.”
I blink down at the fur wrapped around us, then back up at him. No one could see, I guess, but it’s still…well, very much outside of my comfort zone.
Or is it? I don’t know anymore.
“Is this a biological thing?” I ask.
He snorts. “Only in that I am aroused by my mate.”
“In front of other people?!” I hiss.
Ragnar shakes his head. “I woke with you in my arms. I watched you sleep. You stirred…you moaned my name. And then you bit your lip while eating and made this noise low in your throat.” His fingers graze my sternum, his breath disturbing the soft curls at the hinge of my jaw. “You expect me not to be aroused?”
“I was just eating.”
Ragnar meets my eyes. “There is nothing you could do that is not beautiful to me.”
I flush, skin tingling with awareness now as I rest my hands on his shoulders. His cock is thick beneath me, hard and hot, pressed right where I’m sore and still a little wet. I shift again without meaning to—and his grip tightens, the slightest warning.
“Careful, fenvarra,” he murmurs. “Unless you want everyone at this fire to hear you sing again.”
I go still…then I smile, biting my lip again.
“Maybe I do,” I whisper.
Ragnar’s pupils dilate, nostrils flaring as he inhales sharply…but I don’t give him time to take the lead. I lean forward, brushing my lips against the curve of his jaw.
“I’m not, you know, super articulate?” I say. “But I think I want…I want you to fuck me. Right now.”
He growls, low and hungry.
“I don’t know if I can be quiet,” I admit.
Ragnar’s hands flex at my hips. “You don’t have to be,” he says. “Let them hear.”
Maybe, in another life, that would have embarrassed me, but it just makes my core clench.
I’m in a fire lit fever dream, and apparently I don’t want to wake up.
Ragnar groans, deep and rough, and I feel the thick head of his cock slide against me under the furs. I brace my hands on his shoulders, shaking with anticipation, and when he pushes up into me—slow, steady—I swear my soul leaves my body.
The pressure is so good I see stars.
“Elena,” Ragnar moans. “How you take me…I will never get enough of you.”
I drop my forehead to his shoulder and bite down to muffle a moan, but he tuts softly and nudges my chin up with one large finger.
“None of that,” he says. “Let them know you are loved.”
