Page 46 of Heart of the Wolf
And for what? None of it mattered. Not even nobility ever came to their village, let alone the king. No one knew who her father was. At most, merchant sailors gave him a good deal on their once-yearly visits because they pitied him.
“That man,” Leif grimaced, pulling her into his lap until she straddled his waist. “Is your father?”
Brielle nodded. Leif peppered a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses from her ear along the hinge of her jaw. His lips rested against her ear, his palms resting on her hips. “All things led to this. Do not be sad.” His timbre softened, sweet like honeyed fruit. “Freyja guided us to this moment. All your pain led to us. To now. I would take it all away if I could.”
The tip of his teeth grazed her jaw. She sniffed, and his tongue coaxed her mouth open, swallowing all her tiny sounds of hurt until only pleasure remained. He nipped at her lips, lathing kisses over her throat.
“You will never be hungry again. Never want for anything again. I will keep you safe until my dying breath. And with that breath, it will be your name I call. That is my promise to you.”
Warmth spread out from her abdomen, heating her body and flushing her cheeks with the conviction of Leif’s promise—one she knew he meant, and one she knew he’dnever break. Grunting, he pulled her into the furs with him until her head rested on his shoulder.
“Your wounds,” she said, no real bite in her words.
“Forget them. Hjartað mitt.” His fingers ghosted along her curves. “You are mine. In this life and the next. Mine to protect. Mine to love. Mine to claim,” he said, his nose nudging hers.
Fresh tears glistened in her eyes. Ones she blinked away. She slid her narrow fingers through the scruff of his beard until her hand cupped his face. She tilted his head until their noses touched, seeing the promise of forever in his eyes.
“Úlfr,” she said, grinning at the primal smile waiting for her. “And you are mine. Forever. All of you belongs to me.”
“Then take what is yours.”
Leif spread his arms wide, his proud length hard and straining against the wool around his thighs. Brielle’s hand caressed down the scarred expanse of his chest until her fingers played with the ties that hung deliciously around his hips.
“Mine,” she said.
Shallow breaths fell from her as she fiddled with the ties, removing his clothes with his help. Brielle closed her fingers around him, groaning at the heavy weight in her hand.
Not quite confident, she moved her hand up and down in firm, steady strokes like she had seen him do.
A heaving sound groaned in his chest, and his eyes fluttered closed, his tongue tracing his lips.
Pride bloomed in her chest, watching Leif unravel from her touch. While his eyes were closed, she flicked her tongue over the tip, licking the glistening bead from the head. The taste was foreign, but not unpleasant. Leif hissed through clenched teeth, his hips bucking.
“Odin, help me,” he gritted out, a hand burying into her curls.
A sting slid along her scalp as he tugged, and Brielle grinned. She wanted to taste him, to make him fall apart for her, like he so often made her.
Tentatively, she closed her lips around the head of his cock, her heart fluttering as his grip on her hair tightened. Brielle bobbed her head, taking him as far back as she could. He was too big for her to fit him all. Instead, she closed a hand around his base, stroking with each bob of her head.
She moaned around him, sliding her tongue over the vein that traveled along the underside. Soon, Leif started to rock his hips into her, guiding her head with each thrust.
“Do you want it?” he hissed. “Do you want to have all of me, hjartað mitt?”
Every muscle in her body seized, snapping and threading together with an unbearable heat. Brielle nodded, taking him further into her mouth.
“So good,” he breathed, the words rough and tinged with desire.
Leif took over the motions, fucking her mouth until he came with a guttural groan, spilling himself down her throat. Brielle whimpered, licking the remnants from her lips as he slipped from her mouth.
He lay boneless under her, his softening cock twitching with the aftershocks of his release. Brielle kneeled beside him, gathering his spend with her thumb, and downing every drop.
Something powerful bloomed inside her. He was a Konungr. A wolf. A man who spilled blood. Yet he was in her bed, spent and sated because of her.
Black rings eclipsed his gray eyes. Deft fingers undid the clasp on her cloak, tossing it aside. Leif gripped her hips. Ignoring the sting of pain that made his jaw jump, he positioned her on top of him.
“You don’t know what you are doing to me. Come here.” He maneuvered her until she dripped on his chest. “Sit,” he ordered, slapping her thigh as he rucked up the hem of her dress.
Brielle gasped, scrambling to move higher until her slit hovered above his chin.
