She was trembling already, thighs shaking, hips rocking back onto his hand. The wet sounds of his fingers moving inside herfilled the room; she could hear how slick she was, how ready, and the knowledge only made her wetter.
“That’s it,” he rumbled into her hair. “Let me hear you. Let the whole damn settlement hear how wet my bond-wife gets for me.”
She broke with a cry she couldn't have muffled if she'd tried, pleasure crashing through her in waves that seemed to go on forever. His fingers stayed inside her through all of it, gentling but not withdrawing, letting her body clench around him as she rode it out.
"Good girl." The words were a rumble against her back. "My good girl."
She was still trembling when she felt him shift behind her, felt the blunt press of him where she needed him most, his size a promise of fullness that made her pulse with anticipation.
"Ready?"
"Yes. Ralvar, please, yes—"
He pressed forward.
The angle was devastating—deeper, fuller, stretching her in ways that made her gasp and push back for more. His hands gripped her hips, fingers sinking into soft curves as he worked himself inside inch by thick inch.
"So tight." His voice was barely recognizable. "So perfect. Made for me."
When he was fully seated, he held still for a heartbeat. She could feel the tremor in his hands, the raw effort of restraint.
Then his hand slid up her spine, tangled in her hair, and gently pulled.
Her back arched. Her head tipped back. And he began to move.
It was nothing like before.
He'd been careful with her every time—mindful of her inexperience, her size compared to his, the newness of everything between them. But this was different. This was him unleashing everything he'd held back, trusting her to take it, and she—
She loved it.
His pace was relentless. Each thrust drove deep and hard and exactly where she needed, the ridges along his length dragging in a way that sent sparks of ecstasy through her. The hand in her hair kept her arched against him while his other hand gripped her hip hard enough to bruise.
She could hear herself—whimpers, moans, his name over and over like a chant—and she didn’t care who heard.
"Mine." The word came was a growl against her neck. "Say it."
"Yours—"
"Louder."
"Yours!"
His teeth closed on her shoulder. Not hard enough to break skin, but hard enough to mark. The bright sting blended with the building pleasure, and she felt herself climbing fast toward another peak.
"Going to fill you," he ground out, his pace growing erratic. "Going to give you everything. Watch you grow round with my child. The most beautiful thing I'll ever see."
She shattered.
The orgasm hit her harder than the first one, ripping through her in waves that made her scream as her cunt clamped down around him in brutal spasms. She screamed his name, hips bucking back to force him deeper.
Ralvar roared behind her, and she felt the hot pulse of his release deep inside. He ground against her through it, filling her until she felt the warmth overflow, dripping down her thighs and soaking the furs between them.
For a long moment the world was nothing but heat and heartbeat and the two of them locked together.
Later—much later—they lay tangled together in the furs.
Delia's head rested on his chest, her fingers tracing idle patterns through the hair there. The bone totem had shifted during their activities and now lay pressed between their bodies, warmed by their shared heat.
