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“He’s never going near you again, Elle. Never.”
She nodded, the shock of it rolling through her body. The vehemence within Rune’s voice shaking her soul.
She hadn’t mistaken his words before the duel.
He had done it to protect her. Her. Protect her for only one reason.
He loved her.
She lunged forward, her hands clasping along his face, her lips meeting his, raw and hungry. Wasting no time, she drew a leg over his lap, centering herself on top of his thighs.
No one had ever protected her like this—because of who she was. Her and her alone. Jules and Des were fiercely protective because she was family and, frankly, she sometimes needed protection from herself and her own stupid choices.
But no one had ever deemed her as something worthy enough to protect with life and limb. To cherish on her own merits. To accept everything she was. To love her for what she could offer.
Rune did.
And she needed him deep within her more than she ever had before.
Her hands ran down the front of his lawn shirt, ripping it up and off his body, then dipping to the fall front of his trousers.
With her lips still ravaging his mouth, her tongue warring with his, the cloth fell away from his shaft and her right hand went fully around it, stroking the hard length of it from base to tip, her thumb circling the smooth tight skin at the end.
His hands were already dragging the tangle of her skirts upward, finding bare skin, her thighs, her backside, and he lifted her, setting her onto the tip of his member without preamble.
He knew exactly what she needed and when she needed it.
She drove her body downward. He slid up into the slickness of her, her body already greedy for the length and width of him.
She lifted herself, her thighs clenching as she took her body to the edge of where he would leave her, then paused, pulling her mouth from his and looking down at him. At his copper-green eyes filled with lust, his lips slightly ajar and ready to attack, the cut of his jaw, a shadow of dark whisker dusting his skin—enough to make him rough, dangerous, to heighten every nerve when his mouth met her skin.
Sinking down along his cock, slow, her thighs shook—every inch of him she took in spinning the nerves in her body into frenzied delirium.
Her mouth stolen from him, he ripped her bodice downward, freeing both of her breasts to the air, and his lips clamped onto her left nipple, his teeth raking over the hard nub. It sent pangs of fire down through her belly and into her core, speeding her thrusts.
Her fingers curled around the back of his head, digging into his hair, holding him hard to her as she plunged faster and faster along his shaft.
His hips lifted higher, giving her the exact friction she needed and she withdrew, dropping on him over and over, pulling and pushing her body with every stroke to the edge. His hands clasped about her hips, holding her to the rhythm that her body needed but was quickly losing control over for the tremble in her legs, the build of the torture deep within.
“Rune, higher.” Her head flew backward, all sense of time and place leaving her. “Higher.”
His grip on her hips held her suspended in air and he took over from below, driving upward into her hard and deep until she was writhing, spinning over the precipice that delivered her from hell to heaven.
Her body bucking, she came, her core clamping around him, a scream on her lips, and Rune flipped them, her back rolling onto the grasses and he continued his onslaught. Long and slick into her, each throb of her body around his cock drawing him deeper into her as the madness of agonized pleasure took over his face.
The torture was just the same for him, just as gut-clenching as it was for her. She saw it in him just as she felt it herself—her whole world about to explode, except for the person holding her to this earth. Rune.
His hooded eyes locked onto her face, watching the orgasm rolling over her features, and he shuddered, a growl from low in his chest filling the air around them as he drove deep into her. His shaft expanded, stretching her in impossible ways. Emptying everything he was into her.
And she wanted all of it. All of him.
He knew everything of her now, no more secrets, no more of her shame hidden from him.
And he hadn’t judged her to be weak, hadn’t shunned her for losing a babe. Not like she had judged herself. No, if anything, after he’d heard her words about losing the babe, he’d only been more determined to protect her from Sangton.
She wanted all of him. Every breath. Every word. Every look.
Even if she knew she shouldn’t—couldn’t—want what she could never bring herself to accept. The impulse was still there, to want to crawl inside of him and curl up and stay loved and cherished forever without the outside world ever breaking in.
