“Don’t hold back, Elara,” he grunted, his control on the brink of snapping. “Consume me, my flame. Use me for your pleasure.”
After two more strokes of her hips, she screamed, the sound echoing off the wood panels and disappearing into the cold night. Her entire body trembled, succumbing to the weight of her climax.
Soon, a series of violent spasms seared through him, wrenching a guttural roar from Njáll.
Ropes of hot seed spilled from his tip, filling Elara with all of him as her pleasure rippled beneath the surface.
As the final dredges of their release melted from their limbs, they collapsed. Elara’s body slumped on top of him, their slick limbs tangling together. The world settled into a blessed, quiet stillness.
The backs of his knuckles caressed the column of her spine; his lips fused to the top of her head.
“I missed you,” she murmured, the words muffled as she kissed his chest, clinging to him as though she were afraid he’d evaporate.
“And I you,” he said, kissing her curls. “I’m here now. It’s late. Sleep in my arms, kona.”
Apparently, his words were the push she needed.
Within minutes, her breathing softened, and her limbs loosened. Peaceful sleep graced her lax features and it made an overwhelming wave of adoration pour into him.
For many seasons, Njáll had witnessed the burden his father carried.
It was one Njáll would one day shoulder. Looking at the beautiful, brave woman in his arms, he knew with absolute certainty he would not only survive the toll of leading, he would thrive.
They would.
Together.
She was not merely a gift from Freyja. She was his destiny.
The one constant source of light would guide him through any darkness he faced.
Thirty-Three
Elara
Apleased moan vibrated against her ribs.
Njáll’s two-toned eyes glimmered with mischief beneath his messy braids. Oiled fingers massaged the tight muscles in her calf, working higher until his nails skimmed the thin skin where her thigh and torso met.
His rough touch sent a ripple of heat to her apex that made her groan and hiss. Soft lips caressed the delicate column of her throat. Her hand covered his, stroking his scarred knuckles and stilling his movements.
“Sore,” she murmured, his voice still rough with sleep.
Something akin to a growl rumbled over her pulse, the arm banded around her waist tightening.
“Did I hurt you, little flame?” he asked, his deep baritone laced with concern.
Her head fell back onto his shoulder, his cock prodding against the seam of her ass. A disbelieving laugh bubbled up in her chest, shaking her head.
“You are insatiable, Jarl. And no, you did not hurt me. You were merely intent in your pursuit to leave me sated and slumbering in your embrace after many intense climaxes.”
Lips spread across her neck and she felt his smug smile growing there.
Their night had been long, each romp in the furs punctuated by a short burst of sleep before she awoke to his face between her thighs or his cock nudging her slit.
It had been perfect. They had lost themselves in each other until the rest of the world faded into a distant hum.
In his arms, she wasn’t a Seiðkona and he wasn’t a Jarl. They were just Elara and Njáll.
