“Oh, little flame. The gods cannot save you from a demon. Accept that this delicious cunt belongs to me. Mine to ravish.”
Something between a pant and a moan hummed in her chest, the ragged sound a prelude to the exquisite ecstasy that would soon follow.
His tongue lapped at her, a growl vibrating her clit as he suckled. Nails dug into the stone, desperate for purchase as he traced patterns on her center that turned her into a sobbing, writhing mess under his torturous movements.
The edges of her vision blurred, the wicks of the candles seeming to spin in fiery halos. A tight thread drew across her stomach, so taut it would destroy her when it finally snapped.
He was relentless, a Jarl devoted to his charge.
And at this moment, his only duty was her pleasure.
He paused, and she whined, chasing his mouth.
A devilish grin glittered on his lips as he gazed up at her—beard glistening with her arousal and eyes blazing with heat.
It undid her. He undid her.
Seeming to take pity on her, he blew a soft breath over her slit, and she was lost, floating in a haze of desperation. And Njáll was her savior and her captor.
Soon, the wet, demanding flick of his tongue circled her clit, and her thighs quaked.
Reaching forward, silky strands of chestnut hair slid through her fingers.
Huffing a tiny, impatient growl, she tangled her fists in his hair, dragging his mouth closer, urging him deeper. She needed him to claim the last vestiges of her sanity, to take the light from her that he already possessed.
It was his. He could have it.
All of it.
“Good girl,” he groaned, the sound muffled by the delicate skin he worshiped. “Tell me. Command me, my flame. I am yours.”
The permission to make him hers unraveled the thread of unease that lingered. Her nails scraped along his scalp, pushing his face into her until he moaned.
“More. Now,” she snarled, a demand wrapped around the plea.
He flicked at her faster and faster until she crumbled under the weight of her release, sobbing and bucking into his mouth.
The only thing that held her upright was his nails biting into the thin skin on her hips. Fractured light and sound pulsed through her muddled senses, swirling in a white blaze.
“Njáll,” she cried, her legs giving out under her.
As her knees buckled, his massive arm caught her, holding her steady against the tide consuming her.
When the last of her tremors subsided, Njáll pulled back enough to reveal his wet beard and possessive eyes glinting like they would after a successful siege.
Teeth grazed over her thighs, leaving fire in their wake. Norse praises muttered into the flushed skin. She barely caught her breath, her senses still scattered as he scooped her into his arms.
Too gone to overthink, Elara tangled her limbs around him as he carried her the short distance to the bed of furs. The scent of them washed over her, the thick furs cradling her back.
Shadows crawled over his torso as he hovered above her, his cock ruddy and swollen.
Her confidence from earlier waned, trapped under his hauntingly gorgeous and intimidating gaze. Knuckles skimmed her jaw, the touch almost too gentle for a warrior like him. Those fingers tucked damp, wayward curls behind her ear before cupping her chin.
“I want to die between your thighs. So stunning when you fall apart for me,” he growled, and she whimpered.
Leaning in, his lips met hers, tentative at first. She sighed, and he took the opening to deepen the kiss, swallowing her muffled noises as she rocked her hips, needing more—needinghim.
Teeth nipped at her lips, leaving them bruised as he lathed his way over her throat and to her breasts. Nails scratched over his back, her heels digging into his ass and unsuccessfully urging him closer.
