His hands map my body with careful precision, fingers tracing paths down my arms, across my collarbone, between mybreasts. Each touch sends sparks through me, igniting nerves I didn't know I had. When his palms slide down to cup my backside, pulling me against him, I can feel the hard length of him through his trousers.
I gasp as his mouth finds my neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin there. His hands are everywhere, kneading my flesh, tracing the dip of my spine, tangling in my hair. I arch into him, my own hands exploring the hard planes of his body, nails scraping lightly down his back.
He growls against my skin, the sound vibrating through me. His hands slide up to cradle my face, thumbs brushing my cheeks as he pulls back just enough to look at me. The intensity in his eyes steals my breath.
"Mine," he murmurs, and there's no question in it. Just statement of fact.
"Yours," I agree, and his mouth crashes down on mine.
The kiss is fire and ice, his lips demanding yet careful, his tongue sweeping in to claim me. I meet him stroke for stroke, my hands tangling in his hair to pull him closer. He tastes like smoke and winter wind, like something wild and untamed.
His hands slide down to grip my thighs, lifting me effortlessly. I wrap my legs around his waist as he carries me to the pile of furs by the fire. The heat of the flames warms my back as he lays me down, his body covering mine.
The hard length of him presses against me, separated only by the thin fabric of his trousers. My hips lift instinctively, seeking more contact, more friction. He groans, his forehead dropping to mine as he struggles for control.
"Patience," he murmurs, though whether it's for me or himself I'm not sure.
His mouth trails down my neck, across my collarbone, taking time to explore each new inch of skin. When he reaches my breasts, he takes one nipple into his mouth, tongue swirlingaround the tight bud. I gasp, arching into him as pleasure sparks through me.
His hand finds the other breast, thumb and forefinger rolling the nipple as his mouth works its magic. The dual sensations have me writhing beneath him, my hands gripping his shoulders. He takes his time, lavishing attention on each breast until I'm panting and trembling beneath him.
Lower his mouth trails, across the plane of my stomach, dipping into my navel. His hands slide down to grip my thighs, pushing them apart as he settles between them. His breath is hot against my most sensitive flesh, hot and promising.
When his tongue flicks out to taste me, I cry out, my hands flying to grip his hair. He growls against me, the vibration sending new sparks through my body. His tongue is relentless, exploring every fold and crevice, learning what makes me gasp and what makes me moan.
I'm so close already, my body tightening like a bowstring. When he finds that one spot, circling it with his tongue before applying just the right pressure, I shatter, my cry echoing through the lodge as pleasure crashes over me in waves.
He doesn't let up, drawing out every last tremor until I'm boneless and breathless beneath him. Only then does he rise, stripping off his trousers to reveal the hard length of him. He's magnificent, thick and long, the head already glistening with his own arousal.
He settles between my thighs again, the head of him pressing against my entrance. I'm still sensitive from my climax, but I want him, need him inside me. I lift my hips in silent invitation, and with a groan, he pushes forward.
The stretch burns, my body struggling to accommodate him. He pauses, giving me time to adjust, his forehead dropping to mine as he breathes through his own control. Slowly, carefully, he pushes deeper, until he's fully seated inside me.
We both groan at the sensation, the perfect fullness of him buried to the hilt. For a moment, we just breathe together, our hearts pounding in tandem. Then he begins to move, pulling back before sliding home again.
The rhythm builds slowly, each thrust deeper than the last. His hands grip my hips, holding me steady as he sets a pace that's both relentless and reverent. I meet him thrust for thrust, my own hands gripping his shoulders, my nails scoring his skin.
The firelight dances across our bodies, highlighting where we're joined, where his skin meets mine. The sounds of our lovemaking fill the lodge with the slick slide of skin against skin, our mingled breaths, the occasional groan or gasp.
He shifts, pulling my legs higher around his waist, changing the angle. I cry out as he hits a new spot inside me, pleasure spiraling higher. His thrusts become more urgent, his control fraying at the edges.
"Cyra," he groans, my name a prayer on his lips.
"Vorrak," I gasp, my own release building again, coiling tighter with each thrust.
His hand slides between us, fingers finding that sensitive spot again. When he circles it, I detonate, my climax crashing over me as I clench around him. He groans, his own release following mine, his seed spilling deep inside me as he buries his face in my neck.
We stay like that for long moments, our bodies still joined, our hearts pounding in tandem. His breath is hot against my skin, his body a heavy, comforting weight pinning me to the furs.
When he finally lifts his head to look at me, his face is warm with something that looks suspiciously like love. He brushes a strand of hair back from my face, his touch tender.
"Mine," he murmurs again, and this time I smile.
"Yours," I agree, and when he kisses me, it's with a promise of forever.
The fire crackles between us, casting dancing shadows on the walls of the lodge. Outside, the wind howls, but here, in this circle of warmth and light, it feels distant and powerless. There's only him and me, our bodies entwined, our hearts beating as one.
His hand traces idle patterns on my skin, mapping the curves and planes of me like he's memorizing. I do the same, my fingers exploring the ridges of his muscles, the ridges of his scars. Each one tells a story, and I want to know them all.
