His control snapped.
She felt the moment his restraint gave way to need. He kissed her hard and deep, his tongue claiming her mouth while he found the hem of her borrowed shift and began pulling it up. She lifted her shoulders to help him, and he groaned against her lips as the fabric cleared her thighs, her belly, her breasts.
"How," he breathed, pulling back to look at her, "are you more beautiful every time I see you?"
Delia felt the old shame try to rise—too much, too soft, too—
But then he was touching her, stroking up her sides, cupping the weight of her breasts, and the worship in his gaze drowned everything else out.
"I want to try something." His voice was rough, strained. "If you'll trust me."
"I trust you."
The words seemed to settle something in him. He lowered himself carefully, mindful of his bandaged side, until his chest brushed hers. The heat of him was furnace-like, radiating through the thin linen still wrapped around his ribs.
He kissed her again, slower this time, like he was savoring the taste after starving for it. One hand slid down her body, tracing the soft dip of her waist, the generous curve of her hip, before cupping the back of her thigh and guiding her leg up around his waist. The position opened her, let the thick length of him settle hot and heavy against her folds, ridges already flexing with his heartbeat.
She rocked up instinctively, slicking him with the wetness that had been building since he walked through the door. A low groan rumbled out of him; his tusks grazed her lower lip as he pulled back just enough to speak.
“I want you on top,” he said, voice gravel-rough. “I want to watch you take me. Watch your body move over mine. Let you set the pace and feel every ridge exactly how you want it.”
"I don't—I don't know how—"
“Yes, you do,” he said. "Your body knows. It knew yesterday morning, in the cave. It knows now."
Heat flooded her face, but it wasn’t shame. It was power. Want. The idea of controlling the depth, the speed, theangle—of riding him until she shattered—made her core clench hard around nothing.
“Yes,” she whispered.
He rolled them carefully—mindful of his ribs, of her ankle—until he was on his back in the sea of furs and she was straddling his hips. The bed was so wide she had room to settle her knees on either side of him, thighs spreading wide over the thick muscle of his waist. Her soft curves spilled over his sides a little, breasts swaying as she braced her palms on his chest for balance.
Ralvar’s fingers sank into her hips, thumbs stroking the gentle rolls at her sides like he couldn’t get enough of touching her. His cock stood proud and thick between them, ridges gleaming faintly in the low lamplight, the broad head already slick with precum and her arousal.
“Look at you,” he rasped, eyes locked on where their bodies would join. “Take what you need from me, Delia. I am yours to use."
The words should have shocked her. Would have, days ago. But now—
Now they made her bold.
She reached down, fingers wrapping around the base, barely able to circle him fully. His eyes rolled back. His mouth fell open. His chest heaved beneath her.
"Delia."
She stroked him experimentally. Thick, hot, the ridges firm and slightly raised under her palm, each one flexing when shesqueezed gently. He throbbed hard in answer, a bead of precum welling at the slit, and when she smoothed it down the length he made a noise that wasn't quite a word—low, guttural, desperate.
"Like this?" she asked.
"Yes. No." He was panting now, his restraint clearly in tatters. "I need—I need to be inside you. Please."
Please. This massive, terrifying warrior. Begging her.
She rose up on her knees, positioning herself over him, and felt the blunt head of him press against her entrance. She was wet, but he was sobig, and this angle—
"Slow," he gritted out, voice strained to breaking. "Take it slow. Your body will adjust. It will—" He broke off with a low, guttural groan as she sank down an inch, taking just the thick head inside. The stretch bloomed sharp and immediate; her walls fluttered wildly around him. "—fuck."
The stretch was intense. More intense than yesterday, in this position, with gravity pulling her down onto him. She paused, breathing hard through her nose, feeling every ridge of the head seated just past her entrance, pressing insistently against her.
"You don't have to—" he started, voice rough with concern.
