Like she had reached up into the sky and brought the stars down among them. Like she had made magic between them with nothing more than the wave of her hand.
He kissed her there. Teased her, tormented her, and then he pushed a finger deep inside of her tight passage, stretching her, trying to prepare her for what came next. But what came next didn’t matter. What mattered the most was what was happening now. What mattered the most was him giving her all the pleasure that she could ever receive.
He pressed a second finger inside of her, and she moved her hands to his shoulders, her fingernails digging into his skin.
He sucked her clit deep into his mouth, as he continued to thrust his fingers within her, and she gasped his name, tightening her thighs on either side of his face as she came explosively against his mouth.
He kept going. Because there was no reason for him to stop. Because there was no reason she couldn’t have more.
Because she had been given so little in her life, because people had shown so little care for her feelings. For what she wanted, and him among them. He owed her penance. He owed her pleasure.
And he would forfeit his own desires for this, any moment.
Every day.
Her back arched up off the bed again, a second orgasm tearing through her as she curled her hands around the bedspread.
“Yes,” he growled, lifting his head and kissing her thigh again.
“Beautiful.”
He looked up at her, and she touched his face, her eyes gone dark, like the deepest part of the forest.
“Ragnar…”
“You are mine,” he said. “This body is mine. But only to do as it pleases you. That is my calling. It is my right. To claim you, but in the way that makes you scream my name.”
She was trembling when he stood, his body so hard it hurt now, and reached around to undo the zipper on her dress. Shereached out and gripped his shaft, squeezing as he let her dress fall around her waist, exposing her breasts.
They were beautiful. So much lovelier than he had even imagined they might be.
“They would’ve written songs about you,” he said. “Back in the conquering days.”
“Would they have also stolen me from my home and brought me to a strange land?”
“That is what I did. I can hardly expect the barbarians of old to behave any differently.”
“But the song is supposed to be the consolation?”
“The song is attribute. An offering. To a goddess.”
“Oh.”
He reached out and took her hand, had her stand, and her dress fell to the floor. She was completely naked in front of him, wearing nothing but her gold shoes now. He knelt down, and began to undo the buckles.
She watched intently as he did. “Because two things can be true,” he said. “I can claim you, but you can claim me. I might be the king. But I will be on my knees before you.”
“And will you take me?”
“Yes.” He stood, and wrapped his arm around her, brought her up against his body so that they were pressed together, totally naked, holding onto each other. And he kissed her just like that, luxuriating in the feel of it. The decadence of being there, being naked, and having time.
To kiss her all over. To take her as he wished.
As she wished.
“No, my lady,” he said, picking her up and wrapping her legs around his waist and then climbing onto the bed, laying her on her back at the center of the mattress. “I will have you.”
He put his hand between her thighs, pushed two fingers in her again as he felt how wet and ready she was.
