Page 54 of Heart of the Wolf
Leif banded an arm around her waist, hoisting her limp body back onto the bed. Her limbs were leaden weights; she couldn’t lift them. Leif chuckled as she struggled to settle into his embrace, helping her by positioning her. Her cheek rested on his chest, and her arms and legs sprawled over him.
“So good for me,” he cooed, brushing the stringy curls from her eyes. “Rest while you can, sweet kona. I will keepyou so full of me for days that your body will know nothing else.”
He kissed her temple, and Brielle mewled a sleepy little sound as Leif drew small circles on her hip.
Her body burned with his promise as he murmured Norse praises in her ear, his fingers bouncing along her curves. Nibbling her lip, she kissed down his chest, pausing at the spot where his hips disappeared beneath the furs with a dangerous gleam in her eyes.
“And you will only know me,” she growled, closing her lips around his cock and taking him to the back of her throat.
“Fuck,” he hissed.
Chapter fourteen
Brielle
In the morning, Brielle’s body ached in that delightful way that only Leif was capable of causing. The muscles in her legs burned while that spot between her thighs stung with the reminder of him. Rigid muscles flexed on his abdomen as she ran her fingertips over his bare skin, stretching out like a contented cat.
They spent most of the day in bed together, Leif feeding her pieces of fruit and nuts, only leaving to add more logs to the fire or to get more food and water.
The week that followed was much of the same; the two rarely untangling their limbs, lost in each other. Surprisingly, no one bothered them. Everyone content to let Brielle hoard their Konungr to herself for a few days.Amund must have kept things under control while they pretended the outside world didn’t exist, tasting the promise of their vows from each other’s lips.
She made a mental note to find a gift for the jarl.
Brielle ran a hand over her stomach, trying to rub away the unease that grew upon smelling the apples on the platter. She picked at the fruits, only to put each one down when none appealed to her.
Unfortunately, their quietude didn’t last forever. A few days later, Amund knocked on their door, his motions lacking their usual confidence. However, he shouted loud enough that the entire village surely heard him.
“Úlfr! Throw a fur on, please. I have already seen your cock one too many times, and there are things we must discuss!”
Brielle laughed despite the pink stirring high on her cheeks. Leif’s chest rose with steady breaths, and he kissed the crown of her wild hair, matted with the evidence of their exertions.
Sitting up, she pulled a skin lined with fur to her chin, shielding most of herself from Amund. Leif made no effort to move or say anything, instead tossing another fur haphazardly across his waist. After another moment, the wood groaned as Amund opened the door and crossed the threshold, eyeing them warily.
Amund sagged with relief, color rushing back to his face when he realized they weren’t bare.
“Many blessings to you both,” he said, dipping his chin. “You look well.”
Leif rested an arm around her shoulders, sweetly stroking the backs of his knuckles over her collarbone. The men exchanged words, speaking slowly enough for Brielle to understand most of them.
After apologizing for interrupting them, Amund said something that made her brows raise. Something about supplies and a delegation. There were a few words she didn’t recognize, but she pieced together enough to make her body shudder.
Picking at a thread on the blanket, she ignored the rest of their conversation, instead ruminating about the first part.
Their words faded into a quiet din as Brielle traced Leif’s scars on his chest with her fingers, carefully holding the furs up. Despite her growing confidence with her nakedness, she was not inclined to flash Amund her breasts.
The muscle at the base of Leif’s neck loosened as she massaged it. Soft kitten-like purrs fell from his lips at her ministrations, and she grinned. It wasn’t long before Amund said his goodbyes, closing the door behind him.
Slender fingers released the skins, letting them fall, and her nipples pebbled in the open air. A dark, possessive sound hummed in his chest. He tracked her movements as she traced each line of every scar, committing it to memory. Nails scratched along her scalp as his long fingers carded through her curls, sweeping them back. He slid a knuckle under her chin, tilting her head back.
Those resolute gray eyes bore into her soul.
“What is it?” he asked, sensing the frantic whir of her mind.
“I want to go.”
“Go where?” he asked.
“To the village with Amund and the others, to gather the bribe my father gives you every winter. I heard you talking about it. They plan to go tomorrow.”
