His fingers dimpled her skin, leaving bruises on her hips that would mark her as his for days.
After what felt like an eternity, her body softened, going lax beneath him. Njáll slid out of her heat, smirking at the frustrated lines framing her lips.
“Don’t…” she started, the sound cut off.
Gripping her hips, he rolled them, positioning her knees on either side of his hips. His knuckles dusted under chin, guiding her gaze to his. He wanted her to see what she did to him.
“Look at me,” he ordered, his voice thick with unspent desire. “I am also yours, kona. Your passion is branded on my soul. It burns only for you.”
Need leaked from him, sticking to his stomach as her slit settled over his length. Tentatively, she rocked her hips and he resisted the urge to sink into her.
His palm connected with her ass and she hissed, glowering at him with fire blazing in her lust-darkened eyes. His voice dropped into a seductive challenge.
“Ride me.”
The command echoed in the room, her chest rising with each stuttered breath.
She sucked in her lower lip, abusing the flesh as she smirked.
Tiny fingers encircled him, positioning him against her slit.
In one blinding motion, Elara sank down on his cock, taking him to the hilt.
Black dots speckled his vision, his bruising grip on her hips, urging her to move.
She swayed softly at first, grinding her needy little clit on his pubic bone.
Then, almost shyly, she started to bounce, an uncertainty clouding her eyes that he didn’t like.
His hands drifted higher, splaying over the span of her ribs as his thumbs brushed over the underside of her breasts.
“Break me like a wild stallion, little flame. Mark me as yours.”
“Mine. Njáll. All mine,” she sobbed, the claim broken and beautiful.
“Yours, Elara. Only yours.”
Soft hands spread over the hard planes of his chest, supporting herself as she moved in earnest.
Soon, she found a rhythm, her head falling back as her hair fanned behind her like a fiery crown.
The blaze in her core ignited, each thrust more demanding than the last.
Eventually she gave in, letting a primal part of her take control as she rode him with the wild, untamed fervor he admired.
Njáll covered her hands with his own, encouraging her movements.
“That’s it. Look at you. My mighty, spirited kona. So pretty. So powerful.”
“Close. Close. Close,” she chanted over and over again.
Beads of sweat traced the soft curve of her body, trickling down her supple skin.
Needy whines caught in her throat as she teetered on the edge, her core clamping around him tighter with each motion she made.
His hands moved back to her hips, helping regulate her rhythm, acting as the beacon to her building storm.
Tension coiled in his abdomen, his sack rising into his stomach. He wanted to release his seed as she screamed his name to the gods, binding them together.
