Page 68 of Heart of the Wolf
Blush bloomed high on her cheeks, setting her freckled skin aflame. The points of his teeth dug into the swell of his lip, snapping his hips into hers.
Sweat clung to the small of her back as she arched under his touch, chasing the high that only he could give her. Her body protested the rough strokes, too exhausted. But his cock slammed into that same spot, and that was the only thing that mattered.
No pain, no logical thought could keep her from giving in to the exquisite thrum at her apex.
With every cant of his hips, Brielle bucked into him, meeting Leif thrust for thrust in a melody that was uniquely their own. A proud smile greeted her before Leif palmed the back of her head, bringing it to his and stealing a biting kiss. He dragged his cock out slowly before quickening his pace, swallowing her whimpers that increased with each thrust.
“That’s it,” he breathed, nipping at her jaw. “So tight for me. You will send me to Valhalla,” he chuckled in a harsh sound. “Honor in battle, death by your hungry cunt.”
Brielle laughed, the sweet sound cut off when Leif reached between them, pressing his thumb to her clit. Her lip trembled, every muscle in her body turning rigid withthe mounting pressure about to burst from her. A gasp caught in her throat as her walls clamped down around Leif, pulling him over the edge with her.
A roar rumbled deep in his throat, his nails biting into her skin as he emptied himself deep inside her. Warm ropes of his release filled her. Brielle shook, her breath ragged, and her pulse frantic as she clung to him, weakly kissing his chest. Leif slid an arm around her back, keeping her body close to his as they rode out their shared climax.
His cock twitched as it softened before Leif slipped out, making her shudder at the sudden emptiness. Strands of hair from his braids tickled her cheek as he peppered kisses along the top of her head. Brielle sighed a contented sound, scratching her fingers through his beard.
Rolling onto his back, he carefully brought Brielle down with him. He caressed the cascade of curls that spilled along her spine, whispering praises into the silky strands while his other hand rested atop the swell of her belly, chasing their baby’s movements.
“It didn’t work,” Brielle mock-pouted, fluttering her lashes in his direction.
“We shall have to try again tonight when I return,” Leif smirked, stroking his thumb over her freckles. He yanked a fur over their hips, capturing her lips briefly before kissing the tip of her nose.
“When are you leaving?” she asked.
“Soon.”
Nodding, she rested her cheek over his heart, focusing on its steady beating in his chest. It was already late in the morning if the dying embers in the fire were any indication.
Amund would soon come for Leif if he didn’t leave, and they would meet in the longhouse with the other warriors. Brielle would be left to distract herself until evening came, and Leif was home in her arms once more.
“Why is there so much unrest among the clans? Are they not content?”
She trailed a nail along the most prominent scar on his chest.
If the other clans were like Leif’s, why were they angry with him? The village thrived with bustling markets, hefty food stores, strong warriors, and plenty of children running through the streets.
“Too much,” Leif mused, scratching his thick beard. “Some of the clans crave blood. They believe I am keeping them from it.”
“Did you not just send out longships on a raid?”
Not more than a day ago, three massive ships departed with raiding parties from all the clans. They were to sail to the far shores. Was that not enough? What more could the clans want? Brielle pressed her lips to his collarbone and did not move, thinking of her old village. Leif had left them unharmed and protected.
An English town nestled among the clans, and they weren’t allowed to take, raid, or destroy.
Was that the reason? Something niggled in the back of her mind, knowing it went much deeper than that. Some wanted thralls. Others craved blood. And a few fought for power.
“Yes,” he said, running his fingers through her curls. “That isn’t enough to satiate their thirst for battle. And if it’s blood they want.” Leif’s eyes narrowed, his tone turning cold. “There is more blood in peace than war, and I will bathe the grass in it.”
Brielle bracketed his face in her hands, bringing his gaze to hers, willing the warmth in her stare to break the far-off glaze of his own.
“Come home to us, Úlfr?” she asked quietly, bringing his hand to her stomach.
“Always. I will always return to you both,” he said, punctuating the words with a kiss on her temple.
As he did every morning, Leif filled the basin with steaming water before helping Brielle into it and washing her hair. Even when she protested, insisting Astrid or Liv could help her, he ignored her, stating it was his honor to care for her.
The quiet moments by the fire, when his thick fingers delicately braided her hair, brought her enough peace to get through the days while Leif was gone. If it weren’t for that,the fear might consume her, worrying if he would make it home. Instead, she focused on the memories of his tender touches and supple lips, mixing with each other.
Moments later, Amund arrived with fresh scars on his face, looking ready for battle.
