The sound was cut off as the broad flat of his tongue swept through her slit. She sobbed, the noise muffled by the furs cradling her face.
“Gods. Njáll.”
“Don’t get shy on me now, little flame.”
He licked the come from her thighs, circling her clit and lapping her. Too quickly, he sent her roaring toward the cliff’s edge, starlight twinkling behind her eyes.
It was filthy and depraved and utterly him.
“You taste of me. As you always should,” he said, sinking his tongue into her fluttering center. “This cunt is mine. Just as you are. Say it. Say this cunt is mine. Say you are mine. And I will let you come.”
“It’s yours,” she whined. “All yours. I’m yours.”
A smile grew along her slit. “Good girl.”
On the next flick of his tongue over her clit, she broke apart, shattering into a million tiny ice crystals.
She bucked against his mouth, the coarse hair of his beard scraping her thighs. Sobs and moans and whines burned in her chest until she collapsed into a limp, sated mess of limbs.
Weakly, she rolled over, staring at a smug Njáll who wiped her release from his beard. He crawled beside her, positioning her on his chest with ease.
It was late or maybe early when the warm mountain of man beside her stirred.
“Come with me,” he hummed, his voice intoxicating and sleep-roughened.
“Tired,” she whined, clinging to the furs.
And sore.
“I know, kona,” he chuckled. “But there is something I wish to show you. And it cannot wait. Not any longer.”
Half asleep, she dressed, whining as Njáll straightened her fur cloak in place. She followed him through a forgotten, grassy path in the forest, their way illuminated by the bright stars.
Eventually, they arrived in a moon-drenched sanctuary nestled between two jagged peaks. A brilliant array of wildflowers covered the valley, their petals twinkling in the silver light.
The air was thick with the scent of honey and lavender.
Njáll stopped her with a soft touch on the small of her back. Two massive hands cradled her face.
All the lust, the playfulness, the command, vanished.
Instead, love and devotion glimmered in his eyes.
Lights shimmered above, the sky painted with dancing beams of indigo and pastel. Elara smiled, unable to look away from him for too long. He mirrored her happiness, his thumbs brushing the swells of her cheeks.
“You are everything, Elara. I do not have a ring of iron or gold to offer you. But I found this.”
Her brow raised, and his hand dipped into his pocket.
A polished river stone gleamed in his outstretched palm, dark patterns etched in the stone. The smooth surface slid under her fingers as she took it, turning it over and tracing the familiar path of his rune.
The one that had once been an apology, but now felt like a promise.
“I thought I lost it,” she whispered, turning the carved stone over in her fingers.
“Today. I intend to fulfill those markings.”
“Njáll?”
