Page 36 of Heart of the Wolf
“Not God,” he groaned, pinning her thighs to the bed, leaving small crescent marks behind. “It is me making you feel this good. You will say my name when it is me between your legs, hjartað mitt. It is me who will make you come. Not the Christian God, not Odin, not Loki, not Freyja, but me,” he hissed with a claiming nip on her clit, making her yelp. “Say my name,” he bellowed, the command making her shudder.
“Leif,” she moaned, bucking her hips to meet him.
A tremor in her legs grew into something uncontrollable. Leif sucked on her, flicking his tongue steadily as his finger pumped into her, tapping insistently at something that made her cry out.
Broken pants fell from her chapped lips as her body rocked off the bed, spiraling into some oblivion she desperately wanted to crash into.
“That’s it. Doing so well. You’re going to come for me.”
Something shattered in the depths of her soul, breaking apart like the splintering ice of a frozen pond. Brielle sobbed a wanton moan as her entire body constricted, intense waves of warmth crashing over her. Leif groaned between her legs, stroking her gently through the peaks of whatever was happening until her trembling body stilled atop the furs.
Sweat beaded on her brow as her chest heaved, her cloudy vision starting to clear.
With a final thrust, Leif slipped his finger from her still clenching core. Brielle’s lips parted as Leif closed his mouth around the digit, sucking it clean. He wiped away the remnants of her release on his beard.
Gently, he spread her legs, kneeling between them as he tugged at the ties around his waist.
With heavily lidded eyes, Leif stripped. Brielle inhaled, the force of it stinging her ribs. His heavy length stood proudly against his toned abdomen, the tip glistening. Long fingers curled around the base, languidly pumping as he never looked away from her.
“My cock only brings pleasure, Brielle.”
Her hands shook as she trailed them over the lines of muscle, memorizing the artwork the gods had gifted her. Grinning, he ran a finger through her soaked center before gripping her hips and pulling her down until the tip of him nudged at her entrance, making her gasp.
“Shhh. Do you trust me?”
Trusting him was as easy as breathing, even if it made little sense. Her soul had known him for a lifetime. Delicate hands swept from his arms to his hair, burying in the long strands and bringing his face closer to hers, a surge of confidence rushing to the surface.
“Yes,” she said. “I trust you.”
Leif kissed her, his tongue tangling with hers. The salty sweetness of her lingering in his mouth made her mewl. Ever so slightly, he angled his hips, sinking his length into her a little at a time. It stung, the pain of him stretching her open. His cock was much thicker and longer than his finger had been.
Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, and her chest burned with stilted breaths. She worried he might tear her apart.
Was this to be her penance?
“Breathe,” he encouraged, brushing the tears from under her eyes. “I will make it good for you. A little pain before the pleasure, Brielle,” he whispered, palming the back of her head and cradling it to his chest.
Following his instructions, Brielle inhaled, holding it for a moment before releasing it. As a puff of air passed her lips, Leif canted his body, sinking further into her.
He met resistance, and he kissed a spot on her neck that made her shiver.
“One last pinch, hjartað mitt. Hold on,” he moaned, his voice husky with strained control.
Brielle slid her hands under his arms and clung to his back. With a growl, he thrust, sheathing himself to the hilt, so that his body was flush with hers. The burn of him dissipated quickly, morphing into something heady and freeing.
Leif didn’t move, allowing her to adjust to the foreign sensation. She fluttered around him, molding to him like he always belonged inside of her. Tentatively, she circled her hips, moaning at the feeling.
Reaching out, she rubbed the scar over his eye with the pad of her thumb. “Leif,” she whimpered. “Move.”
“As kona wishes.”
Wife.
He called herwife.
Leif grunted as he rocked into her, slowly at first. It was like when his finger was inside of her, but better, fuller. Her body welcomed him, flexing and trying to take him deeper with each snap of his hips. With each thrust, he hit something that made her keen and writhe. He snarled asmile at the blissful look on her face, increasing his pace. That feeling from before bloomed in her belly, making her legs quake.
“I need,” she sobbed, babbling. “Oh, Leif.Please.”
