He throbbed under her palm, pulse hammering through satin-steel heat.
He lowered between her thighs. Their eyes held in a moment suspended—wild need, astonishment that this long-guarded line was about to be erased.
He nudged forward, splitting folds, pressing into the snug sleeve of her folds. They both exhaled—he a wordless growl, she a sigh of delicious stretch. He seated himself fully, hips snug to hers, before releasing a shaky breath.
“Ye’re so perfect,”he muttered against her collarbone.
Ada flexed knees around his hips, heels pressing into the hard globes of his arse.“Move, Magnus.”
He did—dragging out until only the glans remained, then thrusting back in, a slow glide that left her arching.
The blankets bunched beneath them, sand scrunching under the uppermost layer. Second thrust was faster, the third deeper, and by the fourth they’d established a rough cadence—the musk of sex mingling with peat in the air, the small slap of skin on skin echoing into open sky.
Ada raked fingers down his back, nails leaving red tracks; the sting seemed to spark him. He snapped hips harder, driving in until his sac slapped her ass. Each plunge rubbed against her front wall, sending bright pulses straight to her folds, winding her tighter. Her moan escalated, carried over the quiet water.
“Harder,”she demanded, words cracking.
Magnus slipped hands under her, cradling her shoulder blades, and increased the force—pounding, relentless, bodies sliding together, sweat blooming despite the breeze.
The new pressure shoved her breath out in desperate pant.
He dragged a hand between them, thumb latching onto her folds, circling. Instant sparks jolted up her spine; she cried out, head tossing. Climax loomed, a huge dark shape beneath calm surface about to break.
“Climax with me, Ada,”he husked, voice raw. His thrusts shortened, losing rhythm.“Do it for me.”
She flew apart—inner walls spasming, clenching in ripples around his length, pleasure blooming so hard tears pricked her eyes. She barely sensed him bury himself to the hilt and hold, the first pulse of his release throbbed hot and thick within her, her body then milking every jet.
His groan was broken, face tucked to her neck, open-mouthed breaths washing her skin, fingers digging into her shoulder.
For several heartbeats there was nothing but sun-washed sky, the shudder of her breath, the pulse of his manhood inside her gradually easing.
He rolled aside, gathering her atop his chest so he could cradle her close. His heartbeat thundered under her ear, slowing in time with her own.
“I love ye, Ada,”he murmured, voice thick, lips pressing to forehead.
She smiled against him, throat tight, and traced along his stubbled jaw.“I love ye, Magnus.”
Around them the gentle sound of water continued its ancient lullaby; overhead, a hawk circled high and distant.
Beneath Magnus’s palm at her nape, Ada felt small grains of sand adhering to sweat, to fresh water, to remnants of seed that bound them invisibly.
Here, on the shore with heartbeats calming and limbs tangled, nothing else existed. The breeze cooled their damp skins. But within the circle of his arms, Ada burned warmly, certain and finally content.
Magnus lay on his back, Ada curled against his side, her head pillowed on his chest. His hand moved slowly through her damp hair, the repetitive motion soothing in a way he hadn't expected.
Above them, stars were beginning to pierce the darkening sky. The stream bubbled quietly nearby, and for the first time in what felt like years, Magnus felt something close to peace.
"I could stay here forever," Ada murmured, her fingers tracing lazy patterns across his ribs.
"We'd freeze before mornin'." But Magnus made no move to rise. He just held her closer, breathing in the scent of her—herbs and clean water and something uniquely Ada.
"Worth it." She tilted her head to look up at him. "Are ye... are ye all right? After what ye told me?"
Magnus considered the question. Was he all right? He'd just shared the truth about Freydis. Had admitted to being betrayed, to being made a fool.
And instead of judgment or pity in Ada's eyes, he'd seen only understanding. Acceptance.
"Aye," he said quietly. "I think I am. Or I will be, anyway."
